The Weekend in Reverse: Part 3

i don't know as much about laundry as i do cologne and febreeze, but against the better advice of the laundry gurus, i waited till sunday to get my load in the wash. a few friends offered to draw me a pie-chart to illustrate exactly how horrible an idea it was-- saying 90% of all humans do their laundry on sundays.

ah shit, you know it's serious when charts and numbers get involved.

i wasn't sure how to feel about that because it meant i was rare-- and that's pretty cool-- but it also meant i was stupid. and that totally ruins the context of "rare."

stolen from lustik.

but, despite the very crazy saturday that preceded, i was up at 10am sunday morning. and for once, i had exactly enough quarters to do the exact amount of laundry i needed.

and all the machines were empty.

not just one machine, but all of them-- including the dryers. one machine even had its door swung open as if it were hungrily awaiting my dirty clothes.

sort of shits on your pie-chart, now doesn't it?

in fact, laundry was done with such perfection and ease it almost should've been a a misdemeanor-- or, at the very least, an infraction. i even remembered to put soap in the load before starting the cycle, which is not always true. everything was perfect and it finished exactly in time for me to make it to sear's fine foods to discuss a new [and paid] illustration job with a very hungover irene mcgee.

she discovered my blog while we were at the restaurant and proceeded to read it out loud which was both embarrassing and flattering. but it means i can't talk shit about her here now-- i promised not to write about how she had to get up to use the bathroom three times in one meal, two of which i firmly believe were poop-trips, or any other humiliating aspects of the day.

she ordered pancakes and corned beef, with about four cups of coffee-- describing it as "how you know i'm hungover." and i tried to order the strawberry-whipped-cream waffles with a side of bacon, but was quickly informed there were no strawberries available.

"you can order any of the other waffles," the server explained.

oh, i can?

"no, i know," i said, "but it was sort of all about the strawberries. i guess i'll have a... plain... waffle. and bacon."

shortly after having my dreams shattered, the slender woman at the next table was served three plates of food. one plate was covered in all forms of meat and the other two were a mixture of waffles, eggs, and-- wouldn't you know-- mother fuckin' strawberries.

but i was too amazed by this skinny girl and her gigantic breakfast to care that i had been denied strawberries despite their very clear existence.

irene and i stared at the lady and then stared at each other. i told myself i would shake her hand if she actually finished all three plates of food in one sitting.

"can you please hurry up," the lady said into her phone, "i've got all this food in front of me and people are going to think it's just for me."

"i was thinking, 'damn this girl is cool," irene laughed, "we were both wondering how you were going to do it!"

"i was planning on applauding, or shaking your hand."

"no, no," the lady laughed, "it's not just for me."

"she eats like this at home," a man said as he arrived at the table, "but i tell her she has to keep it in check when she's in public. sometimes i just show up late to see if she'll eat all the food..."

irene and i went back to discussing hangovers and art projects.

the plan is several-fold:

1. design no one's listening's logo for her revival.
2. greeting cards galore-- primarily local-based humor.
3. work for getdatecandy.com as the cartoonist attached to the daily dating advice.

i can't seem to get away from Love. it's sort of like how i was a tour guide and then a vacation planner, but don't really know how to vacation at all. perhaps i live more vicariously than i have myself believe.

at one point, after hearing how happy i was with life and nonsense and all of it together, irene asked me if i was going to Fall in Love. i sort of laughed. and then she made me promise i wouldn't.

"don't," she said, "or else you won't be able to draw anymore and i need you to draw for me."

fair is fair. so i promised i would never Fall in Love.

after her food arrived, and she took 45 trips to the toilet, i saw a strawberry-covered waffle plate headed straight toward me. i was mostly excited, but slightly let down that it had no whipped cream. and, technically, i still had no idea if the breakfast was for me or if it was for another patron who deserved it more.

and then the man with the strawberry waffles turned around and went back into the kitchen.

dammit. i want my god damn breakfast.

and then he came back. this time the strawberry waffles were covered in a mound of whipped cream. a mound, in this sentence, roughly translating to a cereal bowl-sized amount. a lot. and there was even one joyous strawberry hanging out on top of the whipped cream mountain, looking proud about his achievements.

that strawberry had no clue he would be the first to be eaten.

"here you go," the new server said, "didn't know if you wanted whipped cream at first-- but then i thought, 'shoot, this is how i'd want it done!' so i hope you like it."

"dude," i said sternly, "this is how it's done."

the couple next to us started laughing.

"you were judging her for her food?" the man said about his slender lady-friend, "look at you."

my side of bacon arrived on a separate plate.

"breakfast of champions, man," i said.

that morning was a rare great. it's unusual for me to do laundry [successfully], and even more unusual for me to eat breakfast. and if i eat breakfast, it's usually a coffee and a cigarette instead of strawberry-infested waffles suffocating in whipped cream and deliciousness. and bacon. and, courtesy of laundry, i was able to do the whole thing in a suit, tie, and vest-- i feel like that made me feel more productive and important while i ate like a child.

plus, hanging out with irene is always fun-- even if i had to promise to never Fall in Love and never write about how she pees 954609745 per hour. she's bitter but brilliant, and that does not always come hand in hand for everyone. also, she gains major wishnack respect points for having texted me, "i'm gonna make you money" before inviting me to our business meeting.

some people could learn from her.

after a few more drawings of things like the golden gate bridge on an average day, we were given two sear's fine foods slot-machine tokens. irene won a surprisingly-easy-to-counterfeit "free soda" coupon, but gave it to me. and i just kept my token for the sake of having it. you may have seen those three items in the photo on my previous post about the weekend.

i had to rush out of there shortly after, to go on my second adventure of the weekend. in fact, i was dressed up in my professional clothing for the adventure-- not for the business meeting. in all honesty, i had no actual plan for that exploration, but i've always found things to be quite a bit more... entertaining when done in a three-piece suit. more people trust me when they shouldn't. and doors open for me, even when they're not automatic.

ultimately, the friend i was meant to take on the adventure wound up too busy for chaos. but it was probably best for everyone. sunday was better off a relaxation and/or productivity day. i was already so exhausted it was hard to tell which day i was even recovering from.

but, i want to say it was saturday. saturday was a full day.