Chicks: Why Are You Always Doing Laundry?

My mom just informed me that my aunts and grandma are coming over on Sunday after dinner to take a look at my new place. Normally, I wouldn’t care but as you probably all know, Jess has moved in with me last February. I just assume keep a "don’t ask don’t tell" policy in regards to living in sin but it looks like the cat is going to escape from the bag this weekend. On Easter. Great.

That’s bad news for me but good news for my blog readers because now that I got nothing to hide, I can start dishing about all the goofy stuff chicks do compared to dudes. Like excessive laundry.

What is the deal with the laundry, ladies? Based on the laundry usage in our household, I suspect that Jess can’t wear an outfit for more than half a day before it is considered too soiled to wear in public. Barring a half day worn shirt, there’s always a blanket or a towel or some random coat needing to be washed right away.

Only got one or two things that are dirty? That’s OK, you don’t need to wait to do a whole load. Girls LOVE running the washing machine for just a couple of things or less. It’s their specialty.

I wish I was being sarcastic but last night, Cheese breathed on Jess’s shirt and she told me the shirt was unsalvageable and needed to be, you guessed it, washed right away. In her defense, Cheese does have really bad breath, but still.

And I’m not just picking on Jess. I won’t name names but one time in Madison, I was living with Joe Daniels and this other girl and their dog Hercules and this girl constantly did laundry too. I know because she would often do laundry in the middle of the night and my bedroom was next to the utility room. My favorite was when it was jeans cleaning day or in my case, jeans cleaning night. I find the sound of metal buttons on dryer cylinders soothing.

I admit this is some low hanging fruit I’m picking here. I wish Jess had some goofier habits or she tried to change who I am fundamentally with hilarious consequences once she moved in but the transition has been very smooth and the cramping of my swinging bachelor pad lifestyle has been minimal so far.

In fact, the feminizing of my place has been so minimal, I could probably jam the really girly things in a closet on Saturday and continue the ruse with my family that if I got hit by a bus tomorrow, I would still go to heaven.

But then I wouldn’t have anything to blog about and I really wanted to post this picture I found in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.



Kintzler is giving Lucroy a textbook high five – Van Lieshout style. A Van Lieshout style high five is when you act like you’re going to give someone a real high five but then you creepily, gently rub the other person’s palm with the tips of your clammy fingers until the other person is grossed out and can’t handle it any more.

The Milwaukee Brewers are Awesome and Girl That Played With Fire Sort-of Reviewed

Now that Yovani Gallardo single-handedly delivered the Brewers first win this season and got them back on track to sweep the World Series, it is now safe to talk about the not-so-great Opening Day.

Monday was not great. It was pretty frigid outside for tailgating and our seats were in the Loge section in a location that did not allow viewing of the brand-new, very cool scoreboard. The worst part though was the congestion. It was the 2nd highest attendance ever in the new stadium which meant the bathroom lines were horrendous.

Normally, I’m no stranger to an impossibly long wait for a urinal (I’ve been to Lambeau Field after all) but Miller Park is not equipped to handle to crowd of +46,000. I missed the 5th and 6th innings waiting to use the pisser. People were getting irate. I thought a riot was going to break out when some people started entering through the exit doors to butt in line. I’m pretty sure they were closet Cubs fans. In any case, the general mood was palpable, there was no joy in that lavatory to say the least.

Of course the zeitgeist of the Section 222 Men's Room got to me and I got pee shy when it was finally my turn to go. I had been holding 5 high lifes in my bladder since the opening pitch and there I stood frozen like Prince Fielder on a 0-2 count with the winning run on third base. When is THAT guy gonna show up and start belting some dingers?

I digress.

Usually when I get pee shy, I try to clear my mind by thinking of a waterfall located in a mysterious wooded glen but I just couldn’t mentally find that magical place with 10 dudes breathing down my neck. My 25 minute wait for the urinal ended up a colossal failure. Then Saito gave up two solo home runs and things went from bad to worse.

But we won now finally so now I am in a much better mood. I’ve also relieved my bladder numerous times since Monday; all subsequent trips have been successful in case you are wondering and I know you are.

Which brings me to my next segment, my review of The Girl That Played With Fire. Warning: Spoilers coming up.

It was pretty good. I actually liked it better than the first one but only after my friend, Comrade Dmitry, pointed out that there was in fact, a zombie at the end of the book. I didn’t put two and two together at first but at the end of the book Salander gets shot in the head and buried in a shallow grave. She awakes from her coma, rises from the grave, and wrecks havoc in the nearby farmhouse in a bloody rampage. If that ain’t a zombie ending, I don’t know what is. At first I thought that ending was lame and implausible but now I love it. Thanks, Comrade.