Our apartment doesn’t have a washer and dryer. And there’s no wiring or hookups for them.
Instead, we have to use the laundry center.
We have a tall laundry hamper on wheels that we use to carry clothes to and from the laundry center.
Others have similar laundry hampers, baskets and bags. I saw a pair of blue Ikea bags there this weekend.
And then there’s the ones who just bundle up their clothes in a wad and carry them, leaving a trail from their front door to the laundry center.
As long as it’s to, and not from, right?
Tag: personal
Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
A lot of my friends are sad, worried, and afraid.
And I can’t do anything about them.
But tell them I’m sorry, which doesn’t really help.
Maybe instead of going around the world
And leaving presents for all the good boys and girls
You could go around and collect up all the sadness
And worry. And stress. And fear.
Collect them all up in your bag
And then fly out over the deepest ocean
Or the South Pole
And dump them over the side of the sleigh.
Oh, and pick up newspapers and soda cans
For recycling, too.
Captain Lobster
Whenever I go out for lobster, I get a bib with a lobster on it.
I turn it around and become… CAPTAIN LOBSTER!
Captain Lobster doesn’t have any actual superpowers, mind you. He’s just me, but louder and more bold.
Oh, and he really, really likes lobster.
The irony is that his kryptonite is a hell of a lot of lobster.
Clutching my stomach, I moan in agony as the melted butter rolls down my chin.
“Too… much… lobster…”
This is when my sidekick Why Do I Take You Out To Dinner When You Act Like This Woman steps in.
Bike
My wife got me a bike for my birthday.
Three weeks later, I fell off of it, and broke my elbow.
The other day, I saw that my coworker had left his old bike out in the rain.
“I have a bike that I’m not using,” I said. “Barely used. Need it?”
“Sure,” he said.
So, we loaded the bike into my wife’s truck and drove it in to work.
“Here you go,” I told my coworker.
“Thank you,” he said, and we haven’t seen him since.
I hope that the bike didn’t kill him.
But better him than me.
Skillset
I get a lot of endorsements and requests to connect on LinkedIn.
Most of them are for my writing skills, but some are for technical skills I don’t have. From people I’ve never met before.
Sure, I write about MySQL and Apache a lot, but it’s not like I administer and maintain those services.
Right?
This makes me wonder if I black out at night and become a Tyler Durden-like personality.
That’s when I check my PayPal balance.
Where the hell did that money come from?
And for what?
I click Transfer Balance to Bank Account.
Best not to ask.
No Hope
When Bruwyn disappeared, we went to all the local animal shelters to see if he’d been picked up.
But he hadn’t. He’d been run over and killed.
We didn’t know this, though. So every black cat we saw, I’d say “Bruwyn? Booboo?” to, and watch.
Even the ones who had been abandoned by their owners.
Some had green eyes. Bruwyn’s were yellow.
But still, I’d ask, hoping.
When we got the call from our neighbor, we knew he was gone.
I still look around the hedges and parking lots, though.
Not as much as before, but I still look.
Hoping.
Haunted
Halloween is around the corner.
Pumpkins.
Witches.
Ghosts.
Trick or treaters.
I read in the paper that pet shelters won’t adopt out black cats during October because people do awful things to them.
One person wanted two cats for decorations for their party.
Decorations. For a party.
It’s so wrong.
Cats are not decorations. They have souls, like us.
And when they’re gone?
Halloween is around the corner.
I get out the plastic pumpkins. Then the witches. And the ghosts.
And a paper black cat, arched over three orange letters:
Boo.
I put it away.
I miss him so much.
Upstairs Leak
The psycho upstairs neighbor has a leak in their pipes, so we’ve got a trickle of water down the wall and into the cabinets.
It’s their kitchen sink’s drain pipe, so it’s the crap that’s going down their sink.
And it stinks.
I put on my shoes and get ready to walk upstairs to yell at them to stop using the sink when I notice that the water’s turned from clear… to red.
I rub my finger on it.
It feels like… blood?
I calmly sit back down, pick up the phone, and call maintenance.
Their problem, not mine.
Aloe
We drove up to College Station to watch the Aggies play Rice.
The Aggies won, but I got to yell WE SCORED FIRST!
It was a hot day, like every season opener at Kyle Field, and the sunblock was just a way to feel slimy while my skin burned.
When I got home, I stripped everything off and sat in a tub full of sudsy water and aloe gel.
Ohhhhhhh how wonderful it feels.
Better than Jack Daniels, kittens, and porn.
I will soak in this tub for a week.
Until the next game, of course.
(I need more aloe.)
Grass
I have to go to a funeral today.
Most people get all dressed in black for funerals.
I’m no exception, but I do like to go barefoot.
The grass at the cemetery is amazingly soft. So much softer than the grass at the golf course or the city park.
Almost as soft as the grass at the dog park, but there’s dog turds all over the grass there. And dogs.
So, I go to funerals when I can. Barefoot.
The feel of the grass and dirt between my toes.
It feels so good when I dance on the bastard’s grave.