Tuesday, December 10, 2002
I murdered two plus hours of my precious free time last night by doing the wretched dishes. I put some angry music on the stereo at an unacceptable volume, took off my clothes, and started the hot water running.
I needed a shower when I finished, because the month old dishes had turned the dual sinks into moldering pits ripe with stench and foul unidentifiable decay. There were some kidney beans and pecan fragments, but the rest was just a light brown gumbo-gravy stinking like a raccoon carcass in the summer humidity. The experience was testing and unarousing. Next time I may open the blinds to play voyeuristic mindgames to distract myself from the horrible oozing slop. If there is a next time. I usually let the roomie do all the chores. I have little free time and better things to do with it, while he has nothing but time. While he's away, I'm cleaning the entire apartment to Show Him How It's Done.
A note to other potential nude dishboys out there: blue DishWish will irritate your penis if it splashes on there and you let it sit for longer than say, 60 seconds. Get the soap off your hands first and then wipe yourself off. Trust me on this.
The loud angry music was trail of dead, which I turned off when Monday Night Football came on television. I watched it until the bitter end. It's a bad year to be a Bears fan. I ate the rest of my gouda wheel , a half a loaf of mom's pumpkin bread, and a large serving of dirty rice with chili beans. I was stuffed like a horseshoe crab. I've been pigging out lately and I've got a pouch on my tummy now. Time for a gym membership.
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