Tuesday, June 26

Turning Japanese

Hanging in Delilah right now are 24 pairs of underwear, 28 tanks and t-shirts, 4 towels, 2 capri pants, and 7 normal hang-dry items.

Having worn my last pair of clean undies today there was no choice..I had to do laundry. Poop I say.

It's not so bad once I do it. The laundromat is right across the street from my apartment, so I put my clothes in the wash, come home, go back to put them in the dryer, come home, and then go back to pick them up. I like doing this because running up and down my four flights of stairs is sadly the only exercise I get nowadays.

I went downstairs about an hour ago to get my clothes out of the dryer and hot damn, one load was still wet. (That sounds dirty.) I threw everything into another dryer for an extra 20 minutes and then gave up. I was hungry, tired, and not in the mood.

So now all of my wet stuff is hanging around the apartment and all I keep thinking is that...wait for it...I feel Japanese.

I swear to god that I have no idea if this is mean or rude or what, but as I glance around my living room, I feel this overwhelming sense of being Japanese. Specifically, a Japanese Madam running a fake laundromat as a cover for her brothel of bukkake and gokkun-loving girls.

I went to a brothel a few months ago. I got a lap dance (and more!) from this chick "Courtney". It was a cool experience, but I don't need to go again. Brothels would be awesome if there weren't any men around.

Am I gay? I'm gay, right? Aw crap.

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