Showing posts with label dirty freaks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dirty freaks. Show all posts

Thursday, November 19, 2009

nice to meet you crazy, i'm dumbass

i used to think that crazy found me no matter where i was. after some healthy reflection, i think i've decided that i have a tendency to not only invite crazy, but also to perpetuate crazy.

often times, i find myself taking conversations so literally that i can get lost in details and miss out on the big picture. please allow me to share the following example: the story of crazy at the dog park.

the setting was a neighborhood dog park in the level opening at the base of a hiking trail. it was february and the snow was deep enough to require some serious footwear, yet not too deep as to trouble the dogs.

an older woman, dressed in a long sleeved tie-dyed shirt, sans jacket but equipped with a pretty hefty scarf, approached my perch on the picnic table. her pen-on-a-string swayed to and fro as her long legs marched deliberately through the snow.

polite chit chat ensued, nice nice blah blah.

then she says 'the good thing about all this snow is how it freezes the biems in the ground, even when they're still hot.'

trying not to show my confusion, i attempt to process this statement. did she just tell me she freezes bagels in the ground? does she reheat them or just eat them frozen? is there some sort of 'end of days' bagel stash outside her house?

you see, when she said biem, i heard bialy, somehow mispronounced. for those of you who might not know, this is a bialy:



a weird bagel with no hole. completely unacceptable if you ask me, but that's not the issue.

only after days of pondering the strange conversation, did i realize that she mean bm, not biem. bm for bowel movement.

she was talking about how nice it was that the snow freezes her dog's poo, thus making it easier to pick up. i, however, was completely unaware of this at the time. i asked her questions about how rapid the freezing process was, depending on the size and other factors. i even went so far as to ask how often she tried that method, and with any other things.

we had this parallel conversation in which we talked about two very different things for close to ten minutes. she was happy to oblige my inquiries and seemed to get more excited the longer we talked.

if my clever little monster hadn't chosen the perfect moment to attack her poor, ragged looking mutt, i might still be there now discussing the energy efficient option of using snow as a freezer.

Friday, September 25, 2009

this is one badass ode to the laundromat

the final installment of my guest blogger extravaganza comes to you directly from one of the most talented writers out there in blogland. he calls himself the badass geek, and his witty and sophisticated style quickly made him one of my favorites. his words seem effortlessly complex as they create such imagery that refuses to be ignored. i rarely use my blog as a platform to tell other people what to do/read/like, etc., but today i have to just stop the gushing and ga-ga-ing over badass and say trust me, you'll be happy you went to check out his spot. do it. now. i mean, after you read this guest post.

thanks again to all of my wonderful guest bloggers and i'll be back monday! happy weekend!





My dresser drawers are empty and barren -
there are no clean pairs of underwear to be found.
A week’s worth (or more) of dirty laundry has collected
in a massive pile on the ground.

All I’ve got are some mismatched socks
(their mates lost long ago in the dryer),
and a ratty t-shirt with holes in the pits
that my wife threatens to destroy with fire.

To avoid being arrested for walking ‘round nude
(I don’t know if I’d live that one down),
I threw all my clothes into a plastic basket
and make my way to the Laundromat downtown.

It smells of lint and bleach and filth,
and it’s louder than a NASCAR racetrack.
I scout out a washer, put my clothes inside,
set it to wash, and find a seat in the back.

My neighbor to the right is friendly enough,
but he smells like he bathes in cheese.
My neighbor to the left looks like she’s running a short fuse,
balancing a screaming toddler on each of her knees.

There’s the obligatory senior-aged woman,
equipped with a crossword puzzle and a glare.
Her husband (presumably) sits slouched over, asleep,
and farts periodically, completely unaware.

I tried to focus on the book I brought,
and to ignore the noise and the smell.
I came here to quietly wash my laundry,
not knowing this was a portal to Hell.

I thought the worst was all behind me
as I fetched my clothes from the dryer,
but it wasn’t until I began to fold them
when the situation became suddenly dire.

I had a pair of my boxers in hand
when some motion caught my eye.
I looked up to see Geriatric Crossword Lady
smiling at me and looking sly.

She winked and waggled her eyebrows at me,
and my stomach fell to the floor.
This can’t be happening to me again,
not after what happened before!

No longer caring about wrinkles
(that’s what irons were invented for),
I gathered by the handful my clothes into the basket
and high-tailed it for the door.

I thought after I’d been propositioned the last time,
the odds of it happening again had to be small.
Turns out I was wrong, but how could that be?
It didn’t make any sense to me at all.

What is it with me and Laundromats?
How is it that I attract the freaks?
All I know is that I’m going to put off
washing my clothes for a couple of weeks.