04 September 2006

Icky Laundry

I’m getting dressed, it’s 0930 and my sister who lives with my folks, Zeepsissy, calls. She wants to know when I’m coming over to do laundry. I tell her in a few minutes. She says, “Oh, I thought you were coming by later.” To which I reply, no, that I had planned on coming over earlier, but I was a little sleepy having not gone to bed until 0400.

*I didn’t tell her about the 0400 part, because she doesn’t need to know that I had an awesome time hanging out with GringO and the Girly last night, they having taken pity on an old man and letting me tag along with them for pizzas and wy-un-nuh (pompous French accent).*

So Sissy says that she just put a load in, since she thought I would be there later. Now, if she knew me better, she would know that I am a morning person. I like to get everything I need to get done before 1200 strikes. But she doesn’t know me any better than any casual acquaintance I see more than once a month. She may know me less, now that I think about it.. So I ask how long her laundry will take, and she tells me that she actually has two loads to do, and if I could wait until later. I say that I will be there at 1130, she says okay and hangs up.

She calls me back four minutes later and asks if I can come over after noon. I say that kinda sucks for me, because I don’t want to break my day up into two distinct pieces of no work being done. She says please, and since she lives there and can lock me out, I don’t have much of a choice.

I’m sitting here, thinking to myself, why didn’t you do laundry this weekend? You had the whole place to yourself, you could have done it at any time you wanted. But then I remember that her boyfriend was over there on Saturday, and most likely Sunday. If he’s the guy I think he is, then he’s probably still there, eating my folks’ food and being a jackass. Sissy picks winners. And I start to think about why Sissy might need to do an emergency two loads of laundry, and promptly pass out.

So I’ve recovered (kinda; at least the shakes have stopped) and am now sharing yet another intimate moment with you, my wonderful, loyal, jaded readers who clamor for my continuing embarrassment. I am your private monkey/a monkey for funny/I do what you want me to do…*


-Zeepdoggie

*all apologies to Tina Turner.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I think the classic moment was when you subtly implied (with body language including a fist, open mouth and bobbing head) that the Girly's friend's times with sailors involved quite a few BJs. If I remember correctly I was in horrified awe. That said, they liked you for it. Kids these days are fucked up man. The Girly and I had a good time too.

Zeepdoggie & GringO said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Zeepdoggie & GringO said...

What can I say, I'm a class act.