laundromat...

ever wake up in the morning and struggle to find a clean pair of underwear or socks? ever begin grabbing pairs out of your hamper and start smelling them to see which ones let off the least offensive odor? ever worn a pair of underwear inside out thinking you were fucking MacGyver or what not? well then, its time to do your laundry scum-nut. i personally hate doing laundry. its time consuming, boring, repetitive but unfortunately necessary. just like taxes and oral sex. laundromats however really make me want punch myself in the neck. ever been to a public laundromat? its a combination between a parole hearing and a lepor colony. my first and only experience in one of these asylums truly scarred me. i needed to clean my bed comforter (the reason for this will be a whole other story) so i went to the nearest laundromat to remedy the situation. first step in the door was brutal enough. ever been in a room where there was multiple people with eye patches? yeah, disturbing. and apparantly i was going to be washing what i sleep with in the same machine that the Charles Manson lookalike was washing his soiled spank rags in. so i find a machine, insert a dollar worth of quarters and grab a seat. i was under the impression that laundromats were a good social theatre to meet women in. i probably believe this because I've viewed porn that took place in laundromats. and porn wouldn't lie to me. unfortunately at this point in my life i wasn't in the market for a lady with a "taz" shirt and three kids, a blonde with a hatchet face or one eyed wanda and her hairlip. seeing that this was no talent show i left and got a coffee. upon my return i noticed my washing machine ajar. fucker! where's my comforter?!? i scanned the room searching for the culprit. i didn't want to look directly in anyones eyes (or eye) fearing that i might turn to stone from one of these gargoyles. so i approached the register seeking to speak with customer service about the fiasco of my missing comforter. what i got instead was a very angry asian woman wearing what seemed to be a bathrobe. for some reason there was a lot of noise coming from the shut door behind her. i assumed the laundromat was a front for mongoose vs. cobra fights. that would of explained a lot more. anyways, the demon started yelling at me in broken english about my comforter being too big of load and whatnot. she handed me a completely soaked comforter and told me to not come back. "can i use a dryer?". "mao!". i took that as a no. she was making erratic motions with her tiny, vcr making, booger hooks and i decided that i may as well just cut my losses, which i did. that's my laundromat story. after that i just decided to get a girlfriend and make her do all my laundry. in closing i would like to remind the asian lady that i hate her godless, cambodian soul.