I got home at about six-thirty this morning, after a fairly brutal night at the nightclub, leading some of the new guys on a monolithic drinking binge. "Russia is killing me," they keep saying.
At about eight this morning, the landlady's son and some workmen came to install my new washing machine.
I was unconscious on the sofa, with my shorts around my knees, after a failed attempt to masturbate, and the covers wrapped around my head. Since I didn't hear the doorbell, he let himself in with his key, and found me just like that.
He was kind enough to close the bedroom door.
It took them about five hours to install it; it involved drilling a hole in the wall and a lot of other noise.
I have no fucking idea how to operate the thing. I've been washing my clothes in the bathtub for the last seven years.
3 comments:
dude, washing your clothes in a bathtub for 7 years, that's ghetto! I feel ghetto enough for not having a dryer and a dishwasher! haha
you really should keep some secrets to yourself. like the time back on paula street when you...
Of the 112 posts I've read that got the biggest laugh.
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