The Hasty Series | Fuck You Dishes & Laundry

Welcome to the Hasty Series!  This series is an every-now-and-then blog post delivering a quick "fuck you" to something that I don't like.  There's no schedule for these installments; I just write these when I'm too lazy to write a more substantial blog post!

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In this Hasty Series Installment, we're saying a big "fuck you" to Dishes and Laundry!  

Fuck you dishes for your never-ending cycle of fuckin' bullshit. I'd go with paper or plastic dishware but I care about the environment. 

You fuckin' suck butterknife that doesn't ever get clean, so I've just left you in the same spot in the dishwasher for the last five cycles because I'm too fuckin' lazy to pick you up and clean you with a sponge.

Fuck you dishwasher for your fuckin' prongy-grid-like-cage-thingy that holds all the dishes and where my dog's collar always gets caught as she's licking chicken nugget crumbs and ketchup off of a plate; the panic in her eyes as she realizes that some "dishwasher monster" has entrapped her is palpable. And then the panic in my eyes is equally as palpable as she retreats, brining the innards of the dishwasher and all the dishes with her across the kitchen floor. "The baby is no longer napping" is the only thought in my head as I rescue the dog from the terror of her own making.   

And another thing, you fuckin' suck you whisk. You are a scumbag of a utensil which requires the dexterity of tree frog to navigate your flexible looping tentacles polluted with irremovable pancake particulate. I "whisk" you were never invented you turd. I have many spoons that perform your sole task equally well and those same spoons perform many other tasks that you are incapable of performing. Fuck you whisk.

I fuckin' hate dishes, but I really fuckin' hate laundry.

Fuck you laundry for your multi-floor, multi-step process, of modern day living. I take underwear out of my dresser drawer. I put the underwear on. Said underwear undergo a day of wear and tear.  And regardless of the day that I have - minimal perspiration, no peepee drips or sharts - cultural norms call for you to be thrown into a basket as if you are caked in a science experiment of urine, fungus, and poop. You and your shirt, pants, and sock companions are carried down two flights of stairs as I maneuver through the domicile and down to the damp and dark hellscape of the basement.  

On a good day, this trek has but the occasional missed step as my feet try and find the next stair to land on, all whilst I'm blinded by the mountain of textiles that occupy the basket that I struggle to maintain a hold of.  

On a bad day, the feline that I willingly share my home with hatches yet another plan for my murder; she cleverly bobs and weaves between my feet, hoping that my inept kindness to avoid stepping on her overrides my instincts of self preservation and I tumble down the stairs - where she is delighted by my demise as she snacks on the exposed flesh of my carcass. Fuck you cat. Not today. 

I empty the laundry into the washer. Throw in a pod of detergent. I wait for about thirty minutes, only for washing machine to turn into a 150lb cube of breakdancing metal as my unbalanced load spins off-kilter. Fuck you washer machine. I balance the load and send you through another spin cycle.  

Into the dryer it goes. I clean the lint trap and throw in a dryer sheet. I return an hour later. Open the dryer. Clothes are still wet. I never pushed the start button.  

I push the start button and leave. I forget. The laundry sits in the dryer for a day. I pull out a t-shirt.  And then a pair of pants. They're a bit damp still; a little musty. They are very wrinkly. I determine what kind of mood I'm in. Its either "I don't give a fuck" and I dawn the damp, musty, and wrinkly clothes and I accept whatever ridicule comes my way. Or I'm in a "don't be a piece of shit" mood and the laundry cycle begins anew.

Today is a "don't be a piece of sheet" day. The laundry cycle beings a new. Fuck my fuckin' life.

Fuck you dishes and laundry. Fuck. You.

F**k You Whisk

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