(17) Drowning in Syrup

It's Saturday morning and I bounce downstairs to the den, my wet hair slapping my back so that small, damp spots appear on the cotton fabric of my Adidas t-shirt. The time is nine o' six, and I am unbelievably full of energy and in an unusually cheerful mood.

"OOOOlivia!" I sing down the hall. She's talking into the phone, the curled up cord stretched to its limit from where it is attached to the phone's base on the other side of the room. The way my sister can keep a decent conversation on the phone and be on AOL at the same time has always amazed me, not to mention how she can keep track of everything that is being
said from both sources.

"Olivia!" I whisper, running my hands through my damp strands so that all I can smell is peaches.

"JUSTA SECOND! Daria, can't you see I’m BUSY AT THE MOMENT?"

I sigh, and flounce onto a chair to wait for a break in both voice and digital conversations.

"No, no I wasn't talking to you, Scott, it was my annoying sister. Yeah, ha ha, sorry." She glares at me and I tap my fingers on an arm of the chair.

"Anyway, he said what? You're joking, right? Ha ha, you can't be serious. Not the girl from our Physics class! She wouldn't be able to tell a Prada jacket from a Target rip-off! Oh wait, Scott? That wasn't meant for you, sorry I meant to type that. Yeah, oh you do? All right, so we're still on for tomorrow night? The Japanese Animation Festival? Oh, of course, I LOVE Japanese animation!" She curls the phone cord around her neck in mock suffocation. "Okay, bye." She hands me the phone with her typical and irritating noblesse oblige and I dutifully run to the other side of the room to hang it up.

"Daria, I've told you like a trillion times, don't interrupt me when I'm talking like that! Did you see how you confused me?"

"Olivia? What are you doing today?" The thought of buying warm wool Abercrombie sweaters clicks in my mind and I cross my fingers that Olivia will be willing to play chauffer.

"A hundred things, Daria, a hundred things! Claire and I are going to pick out a new outfit for my date tomorrow night, not to mention the hours of homework I have to do since tomorrow I have to spend my whole day getting ready for Scott. Then to top that all off, I have to go help out the middle school with their field hockey team!"

" A hundred and one counting that you have to finish doing the dishes, Olivia!" My mom pops her head into the room and then hurries downstairs with my dad to go to their morning tennis match.
Olivia screams. It starts as a low moan and then goes to a full, highpitched B-movie shriek. I laugh and try to use this new piece of information to my advantage.

"I'll do the dishes for you, Livy."

"You will?" Olivia gushes, completely taking the bait.

"Well, only if you...uh....let's say take me out to breakfast!" If I can't go shopping, having a pile of hot pancakes drowned in butter pecan syrup will have to suffice.

Olivia stops typing and looks at me. "Breakfast? Where, the IHOP?" I nod slyly in the affirmative.

" All right, you have five minutes to get dressed. If you're not ready, then you'll be the one paying."

I shoot up the stairs two at a time and grin to myself as I get dressed and start brushing my hair. I don't have to make myself look completely perfect because we're just going to the IHOP. That's the nice thing about it. You're not there to impress anyone and they're not there to impress you. You just sit and wolf down pancakes. It's nice.

After I slip on my sneakers, I trot down the stairs, down the hall, and down another flight of stairs to the garage.
It seems like forever until Olivia finally jumps into the driver's seat, keys in hand and backs out of the driveway in a squeal.

She speeds down roads until we reach it, the International Rouse of Pancakes and it's as if the sign is glowing.
Running inside, we get seated in a booth and start to order. Olivia gets an order of buttermilk pancakes, scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast, bacon, and a tall glass of orange juice. I just get an order of buttermilk pancakes and orange juice. The most overwhelmingly annoying thing about Olivia is that she can eat whatever she wants and not get fat. I would probably have the same gift that she does, except that my appetite is half of hers, so I've never been able to try it.

We chew for a few minutes for the sake of time, and then I begin my interrogation.

"Olivia, what can you possibly do all day tomorrow just to get ready for one date? You're out of the shower in like twenty minutes. What else is left?"

Olivia stops chewing and looks up at me in shock and then sympathy. "Oh my poor, naive little sister. I guess we're just going to have to start at lesson number one. You see, preparation for a date takes time, sometimes all day." I put down my fork and focus my attention to her words of "wisdom."

Olivia stabs at another piece of egg. "You're lucky you've asked me for some dating tips, because I am the master. I am the perfect date, and do you want to know my secret? The key, Daria, is definitely preparation and planning. You find out what each guy's obsession is, and then you make yourself the walking authority on it."

She chews for a few seconds and then continues. "For example, the one guy, Billy I think his name was, was a complete hockey fanatic. So what did I do'? The night before our first date, I stayed up until three o' clock in the morning reading Wayne Gretzky's autobiography. For this British guy, I had to learn all of the English Premier league soccer teams by name. I’ll admit that was a tricky one. . . "

I can't believe what I am hearing, I chew my pancakes slowly, still listening. "Daria, what you always have to remember, is that guys are stupid. Here are a few basic rules and you'll be any guy's perfect compaine." I look at her.

"First, you give them a pet name, they love that by the way, always agree with them, always show up for their sports games, and only order the mixed field greens from any restaurant that you go to - if he goes cheap. If there isn 't a decent salad, order whatever you want, eat a third of it, and blame it on rapturous attention. It's all about being syrupy sweet."