2005-08-19 @ 6:35 p.m.
So I was sitting having a soda while my prescriptions were being filled (the ones which will prevent me from committing homicide on innocent bystanders during PMS) and I was looking at this Grangsta teenager with his skanked out girlfriend. They seemed largely out of place at the yuppie grocery store. And the guy was wearing one of those nylon Gangsta doo-rags. You know, the one that all the rappers wear with the seam down the middle. And I was sitting and looking and sitting and looking, until I realized why it seemed so weird. He looked like he was wearing a pair of legless pantyhose on his head. Gee. like should I tell him? Like yo, Tyrell, you've got pantyhose on your head. Because damn, they sure looked like pantyhose.
I've actually had several instances in the last couple days (the homicidal PMS part of the month), where I have been THIS CLOSE (in case you can't see me, which I hope you can't since I'm typing in my underwear, I'm holding up my fingers about an inch apart) to going postal on somebody.
I did my very last load of laundry at the Spin Cycle this week. At my new apartment I will FINALLY have a laundry facility right there and I won't have to travel to wash my dainties. I really don't know WHY I go to the Spin Cycle, because if Laundromats were bars, this would be the seediest, diviest bar down on the waterfront where terrible bar room brawls take place and people get smashed over the head with bottles, and there's outlines of murdered transvestites in the bathroom. Not that I would know about any of these places...I'm just saying).
Its also exceedingly filthy, which is rather ironic, since you're bringing your clothes there to wash. God forbid, you ever drop a piece of newly laundered clothing on the floor, because there lies enough cast off pubic hairs to build your own replica of Sasquatch.
I don't really like hanging out there between wash cycles because there are always inevitably some rude teenagers or some large black women beating their kids (And yes, I've seen this happen like 3 times there) or some weird guy who you just know downloads dwarf porn. So I usually walk over across the street to the library and read the New York Times or check my e-mails. Which is what I did Tuesday. When I came back about 35 minutes later, when my wash cycle should have theoretically been done, I found this big basket of laundry on top of my machine. It was huge and it had like a 300 gallon bottle of laundry soap in it. I looked around and the only people in the place were two Ethiopian guys sitting over on a nearby bench. They were obviously waiting for something to dry. So I was like WTF?? I then cautiously looked around and lifted the big frickin' basket of laundry off my washer and
And I wasn't about to put more money into the machine because some nitwit had decided to be rude. So I slammed the cover shut and suddenly the washer came on and I was all elat..ed...Ummm, no. Because then it went off again. So I slammed it again. And again. And again. The Ethiopian guys looked over at me. They were about 6 ft. 8" and weighed about 110 pounds. They just had quizzical looks on their faces. I finally got it going again, but it kept stopping and starting and stopping and starting and then I finally realized the secret. I had to drape my entire body across the washer, gripping the front with my thighs and ride the damn Speed Queen in order for it to keep running.
So can we picture this? A slightly plump white girl grinding her hips into a washing machine, gripping its sides and letting the damn thing vibrate against her incredibly under nourished....what-is-sex-....I haven't had a date since George Michael was in WHAM body? OK, so the day wasn't a total loss. And I HAVE been needing some batteries for my vibrator lately....
And can we even talk about when the machine went truly off balanced and started thumping madly, and I was trying to hold on to its sides and then it momentarily stopped and I grabbed the lid and slammed it a few more times....Slam! Slam! Slam!
...spank! spank! SPANK!
And just when I had dry humped the thumping washer for about the 10th time (only in the name of getting my laundry done....Honest!!), I happened to look over and the two Ethiopian guys were shyly smiling and saying something in Ethiopian, which I think, roughly translated to: "The white girl is having a most excellent time with her new friend".
Finally after my Olympian efforts, which were really tiring and nearly prompted me to ask, "Was it good for you too?", the washer finally managed to get through its spin cycle and I was able to transfer my clothes over to the dryers near the Ethiopian guys. It was also finally at this point that some big fat, slovenly woman came in and picked up her basket of laundry which had caused all the problems. And I really, really, really wanted to say something to her, like WTF, or gee whiz, why did you fuck up my washer with your big ass laundry basket, but she was WAY bigger than me and I'm a whimp anyways, and besides, its probably the only sexual healing (to be said with a Barry White Motown inflection), that I'll be getting this week or any time soon for that matter.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty