Right on. Which lead to:
The Messy Clothes That "You All" Never Keep In The Laundry Room
"Anytime a man wants to kick back and start enjoying himself, he can be guaranteed that some cranky hag will come along and stink up the place with her foul bitching. Women love to nag. They never nag quickly; it's always long dry, time consuming, drawn out, repetitive, boring, and you usually get the point long before it's over - kind of like this sequence." - The Alphabet of Manliness, written by Maddox.
Now do you see why everybody should get the best book in the damn universe? Simple:
It's educational.
Well. Let me begin on Chapter 1 for today.
My mum decided to
love
the car, when she treats it like shit, and drives it like a slowpoke on
the roads. Parks it under a shitload of trees, which made her notice
some
minor bird shit stains and decides to wash it. Fine. I wouldn't mind helping because she's too short, stunted and just
short.
How come she's not as short as PY so I can start dissing her? But
anyways, she started nagging all about the car, how to wash it, the
cloth that should be used, and of course, the amount of soap water that
should be used.
Nag nag nag.Nearly got pissed and gave her a
Head Butt To The Ovaries, sorry, but I'm Malaysian.
Who
gives a shit about what cloth I use, what soap powder I use, what
pressure I use, what water I use, what air I need to breath to live, or
what so ever? As long as it gets the job done, I believe she should
shut that pot hole of hers before she receives a wonderful knuckle
sandwich, pack by
me one day.
But this was a problem. Some of the rugs really sucked ass, and I have
no idea why they were made in the first place if they can't even
perform their main objective; which is to absorb water.
This nearly made me want to tear a new towel, and use it for the damned car just now, but it would scratch the windows.
Of course, I did not want to, but I had to;
ASK her for the whereabouts for the towel/tool which would be acceptable by
her
to wipe the bloody screens. Yeah.. Once again, she nagged like as if I
was trapped in a realm, where time stops, and objects just continue to
move. Or rather -
her mouth. The weapon of
true mass destruction.
Once again, I got nagged regarding the messy laundry room, where the
perfect
car cloth was in. So messy, that rats would even die in the horrific
maze. Looking for my dad's pink underwear would be like the saying;
looking for a needle in a haystack.
The
gigantic clothes collection, compiled by how many times clothes are
worn by our family. And it's amazing how my brother, my mum and my dad (
excused; because he struts his guts out in KL, to feed the family),
don't clear their own clothes. In fact, my clothes are cleared at least
once every 2 weeks, when I run out of clothes, that is.
And just
today, before I started packing, I checked out the laundry room. It
contained my beloved Uglymen shirt that I last wore, a few weeks ago,
and a couple of boxers. And of course, I cleared
all of my shirt, and it was more than enough for me to stay in KL for a week.
My brother? Maybe 2 weeks.
My dad? Maybe a day.
My mum? She had so many clothes, piled up, until she could actually stay in KL for more than
6 months. Why, if she wanted to go to
Taman Negara herself, be my guest. She could even erect a tent by using her clothes and belts.
Lucky,
Nokia's DKU-2 cable and my 6230i has forbid me to go further on by
posting up actual pictures of the laundry room. Firstly, the cable
works. Secondly, my phone is pirated. So the computer doesn't recognize
it as an additional
drive.
Well,
that's about it. I'm off to continue packing my stuff for my 5 day
vacation, from the ultimate nagging machine, and get some peace and
harmony in a place where robberies happen during broad daylight. Great.
Thank God for the friends I have there, or I would've been raped in public. Retards.
Toodles.
