Oh, You Have Blogpourri On Your Shirt
First, Samuel L. had it all wrong, it's the snakes on the train that you have to worry about.
So the Missus needed "Pam," no the cooking spray.
No, for food, Beavis.
She was certain it was in the cupboard, but the drawback to the Costco-ization of our house was that we went searching from shelf to shelf for the can. Whoa, that's a lot of stuff in the back that needed to be 86'd.
Thus, to start the new fall season, the greatest of festivities was about to begin. More after the jump!
...well, um, there's no "jump," I guess. At any rate, more after the next paragraph...
A special "thank you" to the person that wedged their white Toyota Sienna within six inches of my driver's door. After waiting on you to come out for two minutes, I had to climb in via the passenger door and climb over the shifter, because I didn't have the time to wait on you and lose out on the washing machine in our apartment building. So once again, a special "thank you." That "thanks" is spelled f-c-k, "thanks." Oh wait, you know what's missing white Toyota Sienna driver? That's right, "u." Give yourself a pat on the back...with a katana.
Oh, yes, the festivities? Well, say it with me in a half-James Mason, half-Richard Harris, it's time for the purging of the vinegars. All those rice, balsamic and garlic vinegars. All those long forgotten jars of stir-fry, mojito and plum sauces.
The thing is that we recycle in this house, so all of those glass bottles and jars were to be emptied and taken down to the recycling bin. The drawback to being a good green citizen is the smell that these things made in the apartment as they were poured into the sink. Such an aroma, like a bad combination of a derelict winery and Chinese restaurant gone wrong. Human hell, raccoon heaven.
Even worse for The Missus, dealing with my constant recital of "it's time for the purging of the vinegars" as I did this.
I have a dream, but before you call me "Martin Luther Procrastinator," you should realize that my dream is not so grandiose. All I want is my own washer and dryer-
So that I don't have to rush home to get dibs on the wash room.
So that I don't have to stock insane amounts of clean clothes in case, the washroom doesn't come clean for days (the Laundromats are often at capacity before noon, chock full of med students and homeless) .
So that I don't have to touch other people's clothes and unmentionables, regardless of how "clean" they are.
So the Missus needed "Pam," no the cooking spray.
No, for food, Beavis.
She was certain it was in the cupboard, but the drawback to the Costco-ization of our house was that we went searching from shelf to shelf for the can. Whoa, that's a lot of stuff in the back that needed to be 86'd.
Thus, to start the new fall season, the greatest of festivities was about to begin. More after the jump!
...well, um, there's no "jump," I guess. At any rate, more after the next paragraph...
A special "thank you" to the person that wedged their white Toyota Sienna within six inches of my driver's door. After waiting on you to come out for two minutes, I had to climb in via the passenger door and climb over the shifter, because I didn't have the time to wait on you and lose out on the washing machine in our apartment building. So once again, a special "thank you." That "thanks" is spelled f-c-k, "thanks." Oh wait, you know what's missing white Toyota Sienna driver? That's right, "u." Give yourself a pat on the back...with a katana.
Oh, yes, the festivities? Well, say it with me in a half-James Mason, half-Richard Harris, it's time for the purging of the vinegars. All those rice, balsamic and garlic vinegars. All those long forgotten jars of stir-fry, mojito and plum sauces.
The thing is that we recycle in this house, so all of those glass bottles and jars were to be emptied and taken down to the recycling bin. The drawback to being a good green citizen is the smell that these things made in the apartment as they were poured into the sink. Such an aroma, like a bad combination of a derelict winery and Chinese restaurant gone wrong. Human hell, raccoon heaven.
Even worse for The Missus, dealing with my constant recital of "it's time for the purging of the vinegars" as I did this.
I have a dream, but before you call me "Martin Luther Procrastinator," you should realize that my dream is not so grandiose. All I want is my own washer and dryer-
So that I don't have to rush home to get dibs on the wash room.
So that I don't have to stock insane amounts of clean clothes in case, the washroom doesn't come clean for days (the Laundromats are often at capacity before noon, chock full of med students and homeless) .
So that I don't have to touch other people's clothes and unmentionables, regardless of how "clean" they are.
Labels: Blogpourri, I told you my wife is patient
posted by Writeprocrastinator at 8:44 PM
6 Comments:
I read this line: "Even worse for The Missus, dealing with my constant recital of 'it's time for the purging of the vinegars' as I did this" as this:
"Even worse for The Missus, dealing with my constant rectal of "it's time for the purging of the vinegars" as I did this."
Whole different meaning. It doesn't really mean anything, but it sounds like it could be nasty.
Becky,
"Constant rectal" actually pertains to the first line in this post, as nether regions are under constant and gruseom attack from my job.
I am HOWLING, CHILD. I feel you on the laundj ish.
My sister and I go to the laundrette every week and we have to time it just so, otherwise we're f'd and can't score a dryer for the clean clothes.
PS: To remove a shtunk, check out "cedar" incense at whole foods. I shit you not, this is wicked good stuff.
Katie-lah,
I knew you'd get it, especially when you have to have a knockdown, drag-out for the dryers.
"PS: To remove a shtunk, check out "cedar" incense at whole foods. I shit you not, this is wicked good stuff."
I don't get it, do I burn the stuff around the laundry?
i have my own washing machine... in fact its rare in south africa not to have your own machine- there are laundries, and i frequented one for years before i got my own machine.
Angel,
I am green with envy, seriously. We don't even have the space or a hook-up for one of those small combination washer-dryers.
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