Happy Birthday, Stevers!!!

Yes, that's right, today is my little brother's birthday. And I, as the big sister, have the duty of informing the Internet and providing embarrassing pictures of you. It says so right in my contract. See?

Anyway, today (and it's still the 26th here in California...aren't time zones grand?) is Steve's 23rd birthday. Which merely serves to make me old, old, old. But that's ok. Cuz he's really a pretty good kid (despite that high school propensity to refer to me as a dirty little whore, completely unprovoked) who loved dinosaurs and went to Space Camp and is now graduated from college and is an actor and works in finance and teaches improv classes and is listed on IMDB.com and everything. (Go look him up! But I will not link you directly to him, because you are not allowed to stalk him, random Internet people. So, if you don't know our last name in real life, I apologize, but again remind you that I am the big sister in this equation, and this is how it's gonna be.)

Ta-da!!!


This picture was taken in January 1983, according to the note on the back. So, my math skills say you were approximately one week old. Or less. Or it was actually from February, but, really, who's gonna know? It was probably the day you came home from the hospital. Mom would know. I still remember being woken up and taken to the neighbors' in my pajamas the night you were born. Which is pretty good, considering I was only four and did not yet have a firm grasp on Where Babies Come From. (And, thanks to Catholic schooling, that firm grasp didn't arrive until sometime in high school. No, college. But that's a different story.)

In short, Happy Birthday, little bro. Don't forget me when you've written, scored, choreographed, are directing, producing, and starring in the hottest show on Broadway. Please? I'll come see it, I promise!