tonight is laundry night. and of course, as you all know, one cannot do laundry (in my apartmenthold) sans a glass (or two) of the red stuff. two weeks ago, i've started back going to the place that pissed me off hardcore last fall when he suggested i wash but not dry because he was closing, bla bla bla. my new default camelot was just too skanky after awhile, and while i'm down with hiring the handicapped (not inserting cheap and easy work dig here), i just don't need to get talked AT by the woman at camelot launderers. 'and then people come in and leave wash in ma-cheen and go out to dinner and i wait and then after drinks come in and want to dry no way jose...' that gets old. that gets old the first time. i didn't ask. i don't care. just give me change for my bucks, ok?
no. it just got to be much too much. they have fewer machines, and last week some greenwich village aged hippie type filled up ever last machine (except for the double loaders... god forbid...) all at once. while i wasn't there to see it, i'd bet dollars that she probably did a load for her white undies, a load for her white socks, a load for kitty's bedding, a load for dish towels, she just seemed like that type of person, you know what i mean? 'you wait! i stay open for you!' 'oh, no, i have plans tonight.' [nysc total body class. priorities, it's beach season in t-minus...] 'no no, you wait!' 'i'll come back.' and back to the old place i went. all of fifty feet away from camelot launderers.
the old place, run by the assholes, keep the place spotless. and sans the one guy who has a propensity to sneeze without covering his mouth, but covering anything within twelve feet, seeminlgy don't hire the handicapped. (he doesn't speak english, anyway.) so back i went. it's been ok the last few weeks, eating crow all the way, in light of my little alexis carrington breakdown in october ('if you don't let me wash AND dry i'll never come back in here again!') i just snub the little prick who runs the place. don't think i didn't notice that his drys went from $.25 for SEVEN minutes to SIX. bastard. grr.
but i'm armed with wine. nothing bothers me with wine.
'can i get change?'
'ma-cheen takes 20s!'
'no. i don't want twenty dollars in quarters. i want two dollars in quarters.'
'i hope i have change.'
'i'm sure you do.'
'i have change!'
eureka. she's got change. imagine.
and today's wash was oddly fine. last week the place was a ghost town, but today it was packed, and bizarrely so considering i'd say a good chunk of my neighbors were stuffing their punum with like minded kith and kin toasting manischevitz, but NO. and that's when princess and i had words.
two types of people live in the village: aforenoted aged hippies, and young yuppies, gay and straight. (and me, who knows where i fit in.) princess was about my age, looks like a ball buster, and only had one load. your humble cubefarm prole had three. you snooze you lose, i'm taking the last two dryers, check matey.
'you already have one dryer.'
'you're right.'
[that throat disguist gesture.]
'THAT'S not fair.'
'yeah, well, i've got three loads. and i was here before you.'
'put them all together!'
[throat disguist gesture.]
'maybe next time.'
'prick.'
right-o. i sure as hell am. and me mum brought me up to be a gentleman, so rather than say what was really on my mind ('sweetness, that shade of 'blond' doesn't occur on nature and looks like ass on you, and your little attitude problem is MOST unbecoming and oh look your ring finger is naked, imagine that!), i just left thinking for SURE she'd throw a crayon in my dryerS, but she didn't.
laundry is done, but of course i have to have a problem with earthlink and my dsl. i'll leave you in suspense but will end off thanking my neighbors for their wifi access. really, why should i bother paying $44.95 and buying the cow when 'marvin' and 'junglepussy' and 'funnyhappycry' are giving it away for free? hmm? more on this later.
