my cat in my monochromatic livingroon. he matches. enjoy.
gel shellac. your skin will flake off sooner than your manicure. ladies, queens and those of you in between, i advise you, invest.
despite the fact that i went to the laundromat on sunday (with my mom nbd) and washed my light blue work jeans they were still terribly dirty. stained maybe, but most likely just narst and dirty. so, as i was driving home, somewhere after the panic attack i had over my loud exhaust and trouble accelorating and then the realization that i had been driving my automatic car in second from hannaford to exit 7 on 890, i decided that when i got home it would be a good idea to a. take a shower and b. scrub my pants clean. i disrobed in the kitchen (as is normal to do at 253 park place before a shower, or whenever) then rememberd about the pants issue, so i put on that horrible nasty pink thermal sweatshirt type thing that lillie used to work out in, so as not to be naked and shit and got the old dish scrubber brush (no worries guys, i don’t wash the dishes with it anymore, then again i have been known to do the dishes drunk as shit so all bets could be off and if you are ever at casa maya (this applies to you especially lillie, because you live here) be advised that you should use dishes at your descresion) took my jeans into the bathroom and began to scrub the stains with shampoo. the laundry detergent (that mom bought for me at walmart during our sunday date, thanks ma!) is in my car, so that was out, shampoo works fine, don’t worry about it. so i scrubbed and scrubbed and then this was the part that i noticed what i was doing was weird. i went back into the kitchen, took out the mop bucket, put bleach into it, filled it up with hot water and started mixing my jeans around in it with a coat hanger (much in the fashion of charlie boyle from charlie and the chocolate factory’s mother in the chear up charlie scene) thinking to myself ‘hey look at me, i’m like one of those old fashion washer ladies…’ and it was at that point that i noticed that i had no pants or underwear on. so there i was, standing in the kitchen all bent over my jeans, stirring them around in a mop bucket with a mangled coat hanger and wearing only, a nasty old sweatshirt. picture it.
You better not fail maya. You better not fail. I might be losing it.
Internet on my phone. First mobile post ever. and it only took a half hour. This would have been quicker on dial up.
hey man did you poke your eyes out? lights out.
betty, you’re the worst. i think you might be the only liz worse than e. wienecke. and that’s fucking saying something.
