Animal House
My aunt is moving my grandmother to Arizona this weekend. My dad just left to drive down to SoCal, spend the night visiting his brother in Santa Clarita, then go to my grandmother's house in Garden Grove tomorrow and start helping my mom do all the stuff that needs doing. This includes emptying out the house, cleaning and fixing stuff, and putting down the elderly, very sick cat (whose sibling here is clearly also very unwell and whom I might see about putting down too sometime very soon - with permission, of course). Who knows how long this will take. Eventually my parents will drive back up with a car full of "heirlooms."
This means I have the house entirely to myself until further notice. This would be more fun if 1. I didn't have to take care of a house full of animals, 2. the house weren't in Fremont, which dooms any notion of a 24/7 raging party, and 3. #%^$ing bar review classes weren't starting Tuesday.
At the very least, I can walk around naked and make full use of the lavish entertainment system. I could eat all the candy in the house and try to gain access to the gun safe.
I foresee some kind of Hunter Thompson/Howard Hughes/Man Who Fell to Earth breakdown in my near future. When my parents return, they may find me wearing a three-piece suit with Kleenex boxes on my feet, screeching incomprehensibly and firing a Ruger at a tower of televisions blaring images of preachers and war.
This means I have the house entirely to myself until further notice. This would be more fun if 1. I didn't have to take care of a house full of animals, 2. the house weren't in Fremont, which dooms any notion of a 24/7 raging party, and 3. #%^$ing bar review classes weren't starting Tuesday.
At the very least, I can walk around naked and make full use of the lavish entertainment system. I could eat all the candy in the house and try to gain access to the gun safe.
I foresee some kind of Hunter Thompson/Howard Hughes/Man Who Fell to Earth breakdown in my near future. When my parents return, they may find me wearing a three-piece suit with Kleenex boxes on my feet, screeching incomprehensibly and firing a Ruger at a tower of televisions blaring images of preachers and war.