It started with Friday and calling in sick...not because I was sick, but because I simply did not want to go to work. Call it lastdayitis. It's a disease, I just can't seem to kick. So I went to hang out with my sister. The genius and I were lonely and bored, since the princess had left us...he with no one to fight with and me with no rage in the cage-esque fights to break up. So we headed out. After helping Nila feng shui up her room, we decided to head out to the Mesa Thrift store...bad idea. I'm walking around, a little out of "sorts" when I turned a corner and there it was...the bitchinest bike I'd ever seen. So I had to have it...one trip to the atm machine later, she was mine...here she is in all her glory...
Oh so pretty and oh so big pimpin'. I just need to put some air in her front tire and I'm good to go.
Later that night I found myself in Phoenix. At the weasel bar. Which was pretty bitchin'. At least what I remembered of it...because let's just say that my memory wasn't much help Saturday morning as I woke up with the mother of all hangovers...well, I guess I can't really call it a hangover, being that I was pretty sure I was still drunk when I woke up. Nothing a little booty, sleep and water couldn't fix though.
After I made my way home, I sat on my bed half conscious trying to muster up the energy to get ready for the impending bike run I was to go on with the weasel. The princess came home and we spent some time together. Then it was off to North Phoenix...the run was fun...tiring...but fun nonetheless. There were some tiny setbacks, but nothing too harming. Needless to say, being that it was my first time riding that long on the harley, my ass hurts...and so does my back...I guess I need more practice. *hint, hint*
So to end my weekend, I thought I'd toss the atheistic nonsense and begin my quest to find God...oh wait, I just totally lied to you. I'm not tossing my atheistic nonsense...but I did go to church. And surprisingly enough, I didn't burst into flames as often thought. It's funny how the last time I went to church was two years ago for my little sisters' quincenera two years ago, but I never lose that obligatory church etiquette. For instance, the sacrament. I always take it...even though, considering I haven't been to confession since I was 14 and refused to even go to church anymore and I don't believe in God, it's still ingrained in my mind...you go to mass, you take the sacrament. It was weird. Not to mention the fact that I had to meet my mom et al there, but the place was so packed when I got there I couldn't find anyone, so I had to sit at the back all by my lonesome. And when it came time for the song that you stand and hold hands with your neighbor, all I could think was where those old men's hands' had been. It took all I could to keep from rushing off to wash my hands! *shiver* Germs germs go away, never come back another day.
So that was my weekend. And now I'm tired, sore and probably have a first class ticket to hell for taking the sacrament. Old habits die hard, that's for sure.
Disclaimer: being that I don't believe in all that jazz, I also do not believe in hell, but it's a lot more fun to say I'm going to hell. Not to mention the fact that it really freaks my mom out when I say that. What can I say, I like to have fun.
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