Laundromats are boring...

Laundromats are boring. There’s nothing to do but laundry, and who wants to do that? They need to diversify their forms of available entertainment. Bookstores that put in coffeehouses are cool. Nobody knew Dave or Buster, but Dave & Buster? Everybody knows them! What I really need is a bookstore/coffeehouse/arcade/Laundromat with free wi-fi for customers. Now THAT would suit my pressing needs. I can read, wash, drink, AND blog simultaneously, concurrently—at the same time, even!

I blame the Chinese. If they hadn’t made all the goodies so readily available, so affordable, so user-friendly, and so upgradeable through the wonders of intrinsic obsolescence, how could I have become so accustomed to doing all these things, all the time, often for free? I know that many would suppose that it started with the Japanese in the 60’s, but it in fact stated with the Chinese about 60 centuries ago. They got the trend started—though. Now, I can safely blame the Americans. If there is something we are good at learning in this country is mass-marketing, mass-producing, mass-controlling, mass-consuming. Supersize me! Immediate gratification takes too long.

So, yeah… I’m done with my fourteen loads of laundry. I really wish it was an exaggeration, but it is the sad, sad truth. Gathering up my clothes, I decided to clean a bit and threw out two 45 gallon trash bags of clothes much too embarrassing to wear—be it because they’re worn, stained (don’t ask and I won’t tell), or the ever-present “what the hell was I thinking?” category. My daughter counted my shirts. I wear maybe 20 of the 75 in my closet on a regular basis. And I still buy more from time to time. No, I’m not bragging. I’m narrating to you the broadest characteristics of my symptoms so may appropriately diagnose me. Contact me and I’ll tell you where to send the medication. How cathartic retail therapy can be!

Chavez needs to send more natural gas my way. Dryers are just too expensive. 50 cents a load my derriere! They should be lucky to have me patronize this dump. And where the hell is my quad-venti white chocolate mocha with two honey packs and just a touch of whipped cream? ::a-la-Homer:: “whipped!”

There is this bar down in the city where they have 300 kinds of tequila. I went looking for it yesterday—in the quite-right thought that Wednesdays are most deserving of such treats, but no! I failed and ended up drinking lowly Mexican-Irish coffees. Here’s how you make one: start with a shot of whiskey, add a shot of Khalua, add a shot of tequila, add a shot of Bailey’s Irish Cream; if there’s any room on the cup, add coffee. Top with just a dollop of whipped cream. ::a-la-Homer:: “whipped!”

Ah!!! Self-indulgence! The ultimate drug…

AND I will smell downey-fresh!!! Hmmmmmmm…