Free-ballin

We all know that I'm the Grand Procrastinator. It's what I do and I'm begginning to think that, if I die prematurely, it'll be because I failed to do something in a timely manner. so it's no surprise that I wait until the absolute last minute to do my laundry.

Three things make it mandatory to finally do ur laundry: u run outta underwear; run out of towels; or run out of socks. Well this, for me, it was the underwear, the drawls. So, with no briefs left in my drawer, i dropped off about three weeks of laundry at the wash-n-fold laundromat.

It was already 1p, but I told my Julie that I had no more draws and begged her to finish my truckload by COB, which would require a lil extra effort. but they consistently hook Twist up and yesterday was no different.

Anyways, u guessed...due to pracrastination, I didn't get there before closing time, which mean that before I took my shower this morning, I'd have to go get my clothes.

I decided to workout this morning though, forgetting I had no draws back at the crib. I realized this, miraculously and coincidentally, at the US 19 and SR 50 intersection, the exact point where I can either take a right and travel about 10 minutes to get my laundry or just keeping heading down 19 to the crib. I was sweaty and hungry so I just headed to the crib not really giving much thought to what I was gonna do.

But I think we all know what this meant: After I got my shower and left the house, I was free-ballin. The problem, though, is that I had to make unexpected detours before getting my clothes so i hangin out for much longer than expected.

Save for the two hours today, I can't remember free-ballin. I remember my lil bro Christian had a free-ballin stint in the late 80s as a rambunctious lil munchkin, but beside that period, I never knew anyone that free-balled. Not personally.

To me, free-balling is for two groups of people: Men without home -- Hobos. And men that lie with men -- Homos, but not the regular kind, the kind that go to wild gay clubs and rub their bare chests together as they flail and pant to bass-heavy techno music. And since I'm feelin sassy and had some paella earlier today, let's throw Hispanics in there. So in summation, free-ballin is only for a Hobo, a Homo or a Hombro. Well, last time I looked, my landlord's name was Mary, I'm attracted to women with verve and curves and I'm a Gringo.

Simply put, no more free ballin for Twist. I'm not saying that I won't be in a situation where I may need to free-ball again, since I love to procrastinate. I'm just saying I will MacGuyver my way into some undergarment.

In fact, can anyone offer some tips on how to make loin cloths out of towels?