Out of sight, out of mind.


It occurs to me that the last time I did laundry, I discovered a hole in the shorts that I’m wearing today. And yet, from my vantage point, I can see no hole. Therefore, my primitive man brain is just going to assume that I hallucinated the whole thing…

I am most certainly not going to assume that the reason I don’t see any hole in my shorts today is because it’s on my butt.

Out of sight, out of mind!

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Dirty laundry


Sure, I had an embarrassing laundromat misfire earlier this month, but I still think my status as reigning Laundromat Champion is wasted by going to this particular laundromat.

I walk in and it’s like they don’t even recognize me. Only the kids pay any attention to me, and I swear one — that shouldn’t even be old enough to talk — just called me fat.

I think it might be time to take my dirty laundry elsewhere.

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The end of dirty laundry as we know it


Ladies, I don’t know what tomorrow has in store for us, but I just want you to know one thing…

That even though we may all be incinerated by massive sunflares, or blown to bits by incoming asteroids —

I’m STILL doing my laundry today.

Because I refuse to meet my doom in dirty underwear. (And I’m even throwing in a few extra dryer sheets for good measure.)

If that doesn’t show true character, I don’t know what does.

PS. I’m only 5 hours from Vegas… *wink* *wink*

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“I do not believe in an afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear.” — Woody Allen


I really enjoyed my laundromat experience today…

I really enjoyed my laundromat experience today — except for the part where all of my clothes came out of the dryer artistically covered in greasy oily spots.

This must be my karma for my previous post asking about mail order brides.

I’m not sure what happened… but there is (always) the distinct possibility that I was just a really, really sloppy eater last week.

I’m thinking about starting a greasy/oily spotted clothes trend… I think it’ll last about a week.

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Fourteen quarters


That badass bachelor moment when you’re at the laundromat standing in front of a washer that requires 14 quarters to operate. So you reach into your pocket and pull out exactly that amount.

And yet, everyone around me plays it cool.

As if it’s not the coolest thing you can legally do in a laundromat!

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