Tales of Drunkenness

-Liquor, Laundry, & Mommy-

For quite sometime I’ve enjoyed the ritual of washing my clothes under the influence of alcohol. While laundry is perhaps one of the worst things I hate about being a self aware being of this earth. It has to be done. And alcohol is a good side-kick with this task.

The following is one experience of the duo.

One Sunday afternoon.. around 5:00pm I started with the weekly smelling of clothes. Except for socks and worn underwear… Those are two things that can not handle being recycled for the next week. Back to the smelling. Sniffing clothes is a process… With shirts you look it over for stains and smell the armpits. With jeans, shorts, and pants… you smell the crotch, if that is OK, smell the ass. Crotch then ass. If one or both smell as if they were worn by a cabbage farming troll.. that will go in the wash pile. (quick hint: do all of this before you start with the booze… gagging reflexes will be harsher then normal.)

Once that is finished you are now prepared to have a drink. This day I had Chivas Regal on the rocks. I sip and have a smoke.. glaring at the pile of crotch and armpit, I know what will come soon after. I frown.

I take down the rest of the glass… muster up about 6 dollars in quarters and take off to the laundry mat. With my clothes in hand I noticed a sub par attractive woman yelling at some other chick about a key… normally I would dismiss this totally.. but I am a gentleman… I knew I would continue drinking… and she.. had a vagina. I asked her, “Hey.. are you OK?” in the most manly voice I could make.. (when you have a armful of crotch, armpit, and snuggle soft… it does lower you masculinity). She told me she was new to the apartment complex and she locked herself out of the laundry mat… we both then looked down at my pile of crotch and armpit.. and smiled.

It turns out she is about 30 and has a kid. While I myself have never dived my manhood into something that once had a living creature come out of it. (Except perhaps that one time in Mexico) I felt today might be a good day to go spelunking. Even though I know picking a girl up at the laundry mat is a huge gamble. Everyone looks like shit while doing laundry. I think it’s a Federal Law. Sweatpants and t-shirts more than likely have holes in them. You never really know if people are dressing down.. or this is natural attire. Nasty and nappy hair is also common… but then again. I’m drinking.

We fire small flirts at each other. Like….

Her: So how do you like the apartment complex?
Me: It’s a nice place.. how old is your kid? Is she/he single?
Her: She is 10..
Me: Is she single?
Her: The pool is nice out front.
Me: Yes it is.. I piss in it often.
Her: So where do you work?
Me: I’m a graphic designer… So.. do you want to rub pudding on each other and make babies?

Actually that is not how it went.. but there was a little back and fourth going on. We finished putting our crotch and armpits in the washers.. and we went on our separate ways.

I went back to my apartment.. enjoyed another smoke.. put on the National Geographic Channel and downed 2 more glasses of Chivas. I was catching a good buzz. It was probably the combination of “Dangers of the Deep” and the Chivas.. that made me go back to the laundry mat early to check out the mommy again.

I go back to the laundry mat and put the clothes in the dryers and she comes back in to do the same. She was bending over to put the laundry in.. and then I saw it. The tattoo on the lower back… the Asshat… the official sign that she is indeed a slut. It was a wide V shape design with swirls and leaves on it.. kind of like railing you would see on an old church staircase. I think I felt my testicles adjust position and hang in a symmetrical fashion side by side… as to say “Ready for duty Sir!” I am pleased. We sit there and talk to each other while the clothes are drying. It goes something like this.

Her: So I blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah.
Me: Oh that’s nice.
Her: Do you blah blah blah?
Me: Yea
Her: Really blah blah?
Me: You know it.
Her: That’s blah.
Me: Yea
Her: So maybe we can get together sometime..
Me: Yea that would be cool.
Her: And blah blah blah
Me: uhhu
Her: And blah blah blah blah
Me: Do you want a drink?

Yea pretty pointless chatter. I think every time she said “blah”.. I was thinking about her taco. By this time our clothes are done..  yea 30 minutes of blah… we exchange numbers because.. and I quote, “My babies daddy is coming over.” Which I really never thought I would hear a woman EVER say that to me. Like someone saying, “Cancer is God telling us he loves us.” It’s just something you don’t expect hearing.

We take our laundry and again go our separate ways. I go back to my apartment pissed and down another 3 glasses of Chivas. I.. a normal drinker… had forgotten how Scotch reacts with me. I pass out quickly on the couch until the next morning.

The next morning I wake up about 4 in the a.m… sprinting to the bathroom with my hang over… but not to vomit… but to take a 45 minute piss. The only thing I could relate it to is if an angel came down from the heavens and instantly gave you the ability to piss the contents of Lake Erie.. in 45 minutes… out of the tiny hole of your penis. My knees felt weak.

Stumbling back to the couch... with a tired and hurt penis...I notice 2 calls on my cell phone.. one from a friend.. and one from the mommy I met at the laundry. The voicemail said, “My daughter went out with her dad for the night. Would you like to get together?” I instantly said, “Fucking shit!”… I indeed got a booty call… but was to drunk to answer. 

I never did sleep with the mommy.. I saw her again a couple of days later.. and noticed the laundry mat clothes we spoke about earlier… were her natural attire… and while sober she just wasn't that appealing.