So listen: I know it has been a while since I last posted. I had to register for classes, which involved a lot more hustling than I'm used to, and between that and my regular class schedule, I haven't had much time to do any writing at all.
I've started several posts, but it's always at the end of a long day, when my brain is fried and my most coherent thoughts are about how proud I am of myself that I still have the mental capabilities to piss into a toilet bowl instead of down my leg or into my eye.
I'd like to be able to tell you that it's the weekend, so I have all kinds of time to write spectacular posts that will make you glad you've continued to come back to this site, but I think we both know better than that.
My mom and her husband are visiting us this weekend.
This is the first time I've had a chance to spend an extended amount of time around her husband (they only recently married), and I was a little curious to see how it would go. Something you might not know about my mother: she's pretty much batshit insane. You meet her, you'll be like, "Oh, she's so sweet!" And you're right--she is really sweet. She also just happens to be a lunatic.
Let's you and I assume for the moment that I'm speaking with hyperbole when I say she's crazy. Probably I am, but she makes it really hard to tell, sometimes. But whether she's certifiable or just marching to a different drummer, she's a blast to hang out with, and we always have a really good time when she comes to visit. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was going to enjoy spending time with her new husband.
Nothing against the guy--I just didn't really know him, and I always assume the worst. I'm happy to report that he, too, is a mere step away from the nuthouse. It's incredibly surreal to be around the two of them. You know without a doubt that you should be calling the men in white coats, but you aren't sure who they'll be hauling away once they arrive--mom and her husband, or me?
For instance: right now, there is a scratching sound coming from the darkness of my front room. It's real, I can hear it just as sure as I can hear my fingers dance across the computer keyboard as I type this post. It's not a hallucination...it's a rabbit.
Yes, there's a bunny in my front room. Scratching in its little travel cage. There's a bunny in my front room.
My mom, she always shows up with an agenda. She comes from a small town without many stores, so when she comes to Austin, we always spend a lot of time taking her shopping. Usually, it's something like, "I need to get a birthday present for..." or "I was hoping to find a picture frame for that picture of..."
This time, it was, "We need a floppy-eared bunny. Do you know where they have those?"
"You...you're asking me if I know where you can get a...bunny?"
"A floppy-eared bunny."
I start thinking about the liquor stores in my neighborhood, trying to remember if I ever see any pet stores on my booze runs.
"We can probably find you a bunny."
"A floppy-eared bunny?"
"Yeah, we'll find you a floppy-eared bunny."
And we did. You can tell by the way it's in my front room, scratching around its little cage. My mom and her husband, they're back at their hotel. So me and the bunny--I've started calling her Chloe, even though I'm pretty sure her name is Snuggles or some shit like that--we're just hanging out. I'm tired as hell, my princess is already asleep in bed, and I think even the rabbit is getting worn out. If I was smart, I'd go to bed. If I was smart, I'd have been in bed a while ago. As it is, I might try to finish up some story, or start some other story. Or maybe I'll try to use some good judgment and just go to bed.
Whatever happens, I'm pretty sure there isn't going to be any kick-ass post this weekend, although I might post a picture of the bunny so you'll know I'm not just making shit up.