Fucking Laundry!

Rated PG-13

It never ends! I can’t stand doing the fizucking laundry every gizoddamn day any more. Then just when I think I’m almost caught up I find a whole ‘nother hamper full of shit I stuffed in a hamper in the basement to get it out of the way. Christ!

It’s worse than the goddamn grocery store, which I have to go to every other goddamn day seems like. Ugh!

Just go ahead and deliver one of those Perdue three-packs of boneless, skinless chicken breasts to my house every third day, with a mix of equal parts broccoli, cauliflower, baby carrots, and green beans. I’ll get the lemon-pepper powder myself whenever I run out.

And some oranges. Bring oranges with the chicken. Six oranges– California navel, NOT FLORIDA, for the love of Mike! Gawd.

Oh, and bring a box of 100 Tetley “Classic” tea bags once a month. That’ll do me, thanks.

Remember that scene in 9 & 1/2 Weeks where she opens his closet and there’s like, 15 sets of the exact same suit, shirt, pants and nothing else?

That’s gonna be me soon. Hey, Mickey Rourke is hip now, right?

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One comment

  1. Woah. This is your “rated pg-13” version?

    I love how you love swearing. On probably our very first conversation you gave me the disclaimer “I swear a lot. Hope you don’t mind.” You then proceeded to drop the f bomb profusely for the rest of the time.

    I fucken love that shit.

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