Musings of a bizarre weekend

It all started on Friday, when I began writing a post eerily similar to this one. It was entitled "Things I wish the media would stop talking about," and the first two things were Jennifer Aniston and OctoMommy. I always knew Liz and I had some secret psychic opposite-coast-twin connection going on, but this was the first time we'd blogged about the same EXACT thing. Bizzare, yes. A little creepy, yes. But stranger things have happened.

Friday night, I had drinks with a friend in Astoria. (Hi, John!) I left on time, the weather was great, and yet I still managed to be 20 minutes late because the world is awesome like that. First there was traffic, and then I got off at the right exit, only to get back on the highway for some reason. Then an accident happened right in front of me, then more traffic, then a gypsy cab who was trolling for fares and wouldn't drive. Then an ambulance and firetrucks blocking traffic, and finally an interesting discussion about ethnicity and sports affiliation. After that, a discussion about midget porn, YouTube viewings of people falling and dogs sleepwalking, and a grand finale by John's friend, who decided that an abandoned easy chair on the sidewalk was the perfect place for a rest and a photo op. I would classify this night as more random than bizarre, but definitely memorable.

Saturday was a pretty normal day: fought with my grandmother, who thinks I'm her personal chauffeur and demanded I drive her to my cousin's house, who was writing a grad school paper and specifically said to not come over; made macaroni and cheese from scratch (the kind you bake) and it came out pretty good; considered drinking heavily to pass the rest of the day; watched movies online instead. I hadn't planned on going to any parties on Saturday night, but one came to me instead: our tenant had one rockin' shindig down in his apartment, complete with loud music, Asian men ringing my doorbell, and what I'm pretty sure were hookers. The Led Zeppelin stopped breifly for what I assumed was a beer run, during which I attempted to watch Rachel Getting Married. Twenty minutes into the movie, the undeniable odor of ganja and grease came wafting up through the radiator, followed by a slurred demand for more White Castle. I couldn't help wondering if this is what Kid Rock does on the weekends....

Sunday brought many discussions about life, marriage, the future, money, dogs, family, and impending trips to NYC by people not from NYC. It also brought the end of one of my favorite shows on TV, The L Word. Add in one of my best friends getting laid off, the preparing of a dish so spicy I thought I might die, the most white trash waitress I have EVER seen, a puppy who doesn't know how to walk on a leash, and several uncomfortable conversations that had me thinking, "Wow, really?" and there you have my weekend. Bizarre, to say the least.