My brother sucks. Part 1,789,873

I'm having a crappy day; it's part of a larger, crappier weekend. Or, if you're willing to travel back in time with me a bit further, we could call the previous 8 days pretty frustrating.
You see, last weekend, after months of (we thought) sobriety, my brother went missing and came home with the following: no recollection of the previous night, a hangover, a nasty black eye and a hospital bracelet. After some digging we discovered that he had gotten drunk with some friends and caused such a scene that he was arrested, hog-tied, and pepper-sprayed before he was taken to the hospital.
The following evening, he announced that he would like to quit smoking pot. Having heard this promise several times from him in my short life, I decided to suspend judgment. You see, I've been told many times in a variety of ways that I need to forgive my brother and continue to give him a second, third, fourth (I've lost count of what number we're on now) chance. So I put in a good solid effort. I even hung out with him several times last week and played board games.
So, yesterday was Kristin's bridal shower, and we were out all day getting ready and hosting this shower. When we came home at about 5 o'clock in the evening, my brother was gone and had left a note saying (among other things) that he would find somewhere else to live. Apparently he had gotten stoned and fought with my dad. My dad was going out and told him he could not be alone in the house with my sister (this is a promise they made to her for her comfort/safety). Daniel pitched a fit and left. He has no cell phone so we didn't see him or hear from him all last night. Needless to say, it was a shitty night and although we all tried to remain cheerful I was pretty much livid. Matt and I hung out with Becca to prevent further shenanigans (with my siblings, these things often come in twos).
This morning I woke up nauseous (I get up at 4 am on Sundays). I was at work roughly an hour before I decided I probably couldn't handle it. I called every co-worker and only two people answered their phones (they couldn't help me) and no one else even called me back. Which was frustrating, especially since I was literally throwing up in the bathroom on my breaks, but there was nothing I could do about it. It was too busy for me to leave. So I worked the whole shift (and for those of you who are disgusted by this, just FYI, I didn't make drinks, touch food, or even touch cups. I just touched money). Anyway, when I came home I was starting to feel better, until Daniel showed up on the front porch. The conversation went like this:
Daniel: Am I welcome?
Dad: That depends, are you stoned?
Daniel (haughtily): No.
Dad: Then I guess you're welcome.
(Daniel starts walking up the stairs)
Dad: We're going to have to talk about what happened last night.
Daniel: I have nothing to say to you (slams door).

Not exactly the contrite spirit you'd be hoping for in this situation, but my brother is a self-centered drug addict, so I expect nothing more.
Anyway, I have said this about 5 billion times already, but I am tired of this. Life needs some more stability. We need to be able to go a week without a major crisis. It is so unbelievably childish to run away from your home or your problems, but I have put up with this no less than 4 times in the past year and a half, twice with police intervention.
So (and please keep in mind I am not looking for anyone's opinion on how to "deal with" my brother, I think unless you have been in this situation yourself, it is so easy to simplify it down to forgiving your brother seven times seventy, and that's not what real love or real life is about). So, anyway, I am tired and pissed and feel trapped, and need to vent. Because I don't know what else to do, I have had enough from him.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.