twenty-something

See, mi madre (yes, Martha) was up north and up to no good this weekend. She breezed through town on Friday afternoon long enough to see my office, embarrass me in front of some co-workers. In addition to gushing about me with my boss, her and Merrie, one of the office assistants, debated which celebrity I host resembled ("You must know he looks like Russell Crowe," says 50-something Merrie, the first person who noted the resemblance back in junior year and makes mention of it at least once a week these days. "No, I think he looks like the dark guy who played Superman," says my mother, who is apparently stoned and thinks I look like Dean Cain.). She also had me drop her off at my aunt's house so they could head up north to Montreal for some middle-aged debauchery. Long story short: this turn of events left me with wheels in Burlington! Yes, I had the smelly Pathfinder for the weekend.

So the highlight of my weekend with wheels? Getting up at 9AM on Sunday. Loading up the car with laundry and recyclables, and hitting the road. Giddy up.

But who knew such a morning could be so productive and amazing? I hadn't done laundry since the New Year, and my stash of clean and semi-clean clothing was dwindling. In fact, I've only done laundry three times since moving here in September, which speaks to the facts that (a) I have a lot of clothes, and (b) I am a filthy pig. So I load up Pathy and hit the road, drivin' fast, makin' rollin' stops, and listenin' to 95 Triple X and singin' along to Clay Aikin'.

I am my mother's son.

So I arrive at the laundromat and even then, the thought of continuing this story with this depth was nauseating me. So let's skimp on some of the tediousness and make this a little shorter. Laundromat's rock! I cleaned clothes, returned some bottles, ran into some people I graduated with (a cute popular blonde who was overly chatting and an unattractive guy from a fraternity I briefly rushed sophomore year), got flirted with by two cute young girls (yes, they flirted with ME!), ogled a hot lacrosse boy, listened to the iPod, and whatnot. Bought gloves at EMS and some longjohns which turned out to be some sort of soft warm shirt when I opened the package (I kept it anyway). But I digress...

I guess the real highlight of the story comes on the way home. Backstory: One of my neighbors has an outside cat that's real friendly and always tries to get into my house. The thing is, when it gets in, it likes to hide, and when you try to get it out, the damn thing hisses like a MF. It's cute and all, but, yeah, not really my thing. *achoo*

So I'm driving home from the laundromat, la ti da, happy with my productivity and clean laundry. And I'm about a mile from my house, and from out of the backseat pops this pussy. And I'm like, "WTF?" I try to grab it, and it gets a little hissy.

If my life were an episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," I would've thrown the cat out of the car right then and there, and that would've been the end of it. But I am a better man than Larry David, so I kept it at bay until I got home and then quickly threw it out. And it got hit by a car.

No, it didn't. But, again, if this were "Curb," that would've happened. My life is not nearly as sick or funny.

Sadly, just as this entry has no theme, I have no fun song to neatly tie into that and thus tie these thoughts up in a neat bow. On the iPod today: Mraz's "Too Much Food." I'm rediscovering his album, thanks to this song, and it's likely to be in heavy rotation this week. So listen to it once for me.

The rest of the day consisted of giving back the car, walking into work to put on a super-fun Super Bowl program for students (on the way running into a hippie girl that I swore for 10 whole seconds was none other than Darci Connor), and then come home to start putting together some new IKEA furniture my mama bought me (I got to leave work at halftime, and therefore missed that damn Justin Timberlake stunt). Oh, and that guy who comes over to raid my fridge and watch my TV (what's his name? Duncan?) came over at shortly thereafter.

Like I said last time, I don't have it all. But I have some. And it's all good.

Lesson of the day: watch out for stray pussy in your mother's car. They hiss.