the draino didn't help one bit. strangely, neither did the half(ish) bottle of wine, though to be fair, that actually wasn't for the washing machine so much as because of the washing machine.
b kindly assured me that he would have thrown those crappyass rugs in the washing machine too - any reasonable person would have. because, let's be honest, who the hell is going to handwash $3 kitchen rugs from target? i mean, b pointed out, what are we supposed to do, take them down to the stream and beat them against the banks? they filled all the creeks around here with cement long ago. and the potomac? b: i wouldn't throw trash in the potomac! let alone a rug! and you can take that to the bank!*
i hid the slightly torn up, crappyass rugs this morning, and made b tell the doorman, as i cowered behind like a little kid. i was afraid if he asked me one question, i would've broken like khalid sheikh mohammed and admitted the whole thing. wait a second. i should check those transcripts with all the crazy things he's admitted to. maybe he broke my washing machine ...
let's hope this is only a trilogy. if not, rk can i come over and use your washing machine? i promise to leave the rugs at home.
*i don't know what the hell that means either.
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2 comments:
HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAH
*ahem*
you crack me up. so you fucked up your washing machine, huh? you shouldn't have to buy a new one ... i can tell you that much. lol
HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
*wipes tears*
I hide when maintenance shows up and make b deal with telling them to fix messes, too. Figure that's one of his manly duties.
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
ahhhh... yeah, that's the best one. For sure.
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