My mom has been feeling weaker and weaker, so she decided to sell her car, a 2001 Civic with 33,000 miles. That's not a misprint.
That car was purchased while I was still in high school. I'm now 30, and it only has 33,000 miles.
I put an ad in da paper for mom. She listed it at $6,500 and said she wouldn't take a penny less than $5,800 but was hoping for $6,000. I told her no way.
The ad started its run in da paper with last Friday's edition. The car was sold before the end of the work day that day.
That was quick. The first person that called came by, looked at it, test-drove it and offered $6,000. Sold. I was wrong.
The new owner is a woman in her 30s. Mom wasn't thrilled about her residence, though. "My car lives on the fucking West Bank now."
And now I'm serving as mom's chauffeur when she runs her errands. It was a really empty feeling pulling up in her driveway and her car not being there. Like a piece of her had already died.
Anyway, Tuesday was the car insurance place (they owe her three months back), the bank and the grocery.
Wednesday was more eventful. Here's where I went: drive to mom's house; drop mom off at the nail salon; drive back home (I left my wallet there); to Best Buy to buy Weird Al's new CD (they were sold out!); back to the nail salon; to Wal-Mart so mom could buy an inhaler she wanted to buy but didn't the day before; to Chinese lunch (Nicole joined); back to mom's to watch the 24 finale (good but too sad, can the man get a happy ending?); back home; to City Park for softball; back home.
THE TINA CURSING CORNER
Mom is going through old text messages. "Remember that girl that thought I was fucking her boyfriend?"
Mom needed an inhaler because she quit smoking seven weeks ago, and her chest is reacting to the lack of poison. "But they took the inhaler everybody loved off the fucking market." We bought the next best reviewed one.
On the way to the nail salon, mom was wishing for a different girl. "I hope I don't get the same girl. Last time she hurt me with the fucking nail polish."
Mom's thoughts on Ray Nagin: "He only got 10 fucking years. Sad."
And on Justin Beiber: "He gets in trouble. He's been working out, though. Got some fucking abs."
PASS. PASS. PASS. REPEAT.
The World Cup is over. Sadly, after watching all these soccer matches, I came away liking the sport less. Just can't stand penalty kicks and only one moment mattering too often. I still love it, but it's just no basketball.
INFESTATIONS
I had two infestations a couple of weeks ago: ants and caterpillars.
The first year I was in my house, I had ants everywhere and was killing hundreds by the day until I bought this product that destroyed the source.
So when they came back, I just poured the liquid on my floor. They ate it up and had disappeared by the time I woke up.
The tree in the yard behind me was eaten by tree caterpillars, which then littered mine and my nextdoor neighbor's yard.
He was funny as he bought a chemical, put it in a bottle and sprayed the shit out of the tree from atop a ladder in my backyard. Neighbor: "You know I've been spraying the crap out of 'em on my fence, but they just keep coming back."
The caterpillars form these sacks on the tree limbs. But while I was on vacation, a professional came out and dealt with the tree. When I came back, my backyard had gone from having a thousand caterpillars to zilch.
In other news, I watched Independence Day on July 4 to save our city from hurricanes, met Nicole's parents at a family party (and then joined some of her cousins and aunts at Lucy's until 3 a.m.) and enjoyed a nice steak dinner two weeks ago with Nicole, Bert, Kelly, Joe and Jenna.
Just living the life, ya heard?
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