No duo has been in the business of being taken for granted longer than the washer and dryer. I recently moved into a new place in South Philadelphia to find Hasidicly low rent, a spacious kitchen area, and even a private back porch (where I and mayor Nutter privately discuss strategies on the conquering of New Jersey). Sounds great right? The fragrant peaks of Sock Mountain beg to differ. So here it is, without further ado, the everyman’s guide to winter laundry.
Hit play and enjoy as you read.
Socks fly first class. No exceptions. The business of sock recycling is just as despicable as any other criminal activity. While I fully understand the stipulations of the desperate times desperate measures plea, that shit is straight up disgusting and should be prolonged not a second longer than absolutely necessary. In fact, it is the humble opinion of Chachi Ramirez that a lengthened practiced of sock recycling should be a punishable offense. If you are found guilty of this crime by the public, a Step-On should be scheduled for the following day. Each individual encountered INISDE a public domain on the day of your heinous error would be invited via telephone to the event. During this proceeding, the guilty party must remove his/her right shoe and corresponding sock. This individual must then lie on his/her back with their right foot pressed in upright walking position in front of him/her. The members of the offended will then form a line. Each one of the disgruntled is invited to speak a vindictive one-liner (such as “Game’s Over, Smelly” or “Eat Shoe, Dickhole”) and walk casually but firmly over the culprit’s foot, making sure to emphasize the pressing of their sneaker onto the naked organ that previously caused the uproar. Perhaps even refreshments would be served following the punishment.
Boxers are next in line. This serves more for personal hygiene than for public welfare. There’s limited ventilation in the pelvic region and situations can develop from bad to worse in jus half a New York minute. Remember that it’s winter, and a pair of pajamas make for a toasty substitute while your silks are spinnin’ three-sixties in the dryer. Also, if you’re not currently a mix and match kind of guy, throw some of those boxers in with your shirts. In weight retrospect, a week’s worth of boxers equals just about a shirt, so why not? You may have thought that diversity only applied to Brown vs. the Board of Education, but now its time to look inside your washer. This under-garment philosophy also results in increased confidence. Unless a shirt smells like a homeless man’s crack, you’re probably pretty safe. But if your goldfish kicks the bucket and the car just won’t start, it’s those smelly pair of GI JOE silks that are gonna send you over the edge.
Shirts are pretty standard. It’s winter. Wash those bitches when you can, but don’t stress. Beware of rogue stains and wrinkles. Pasta night may seem like a good idea, but in reality, it’s an epidemic.
Jeans are tricky. Unlike the shirt family who ultimately make trips to Washing Machine Park semi-regularly, Auntie Jean considers herself a stay-at-home denim. Jeans are like coats for your legs. Unless you’re training for the New York City marathon in your Lee’s Carpenters, the chance of odor production is on par with Amy Winehouse’s sobriety. This does not mean that your jeans are acceptable. Because it’s winter, you can get a solid couple weeks out of those beloved denims (that some 7 year-old Indian child pre-ripped for you, not being vaguely acquainted with the concept of “cool”). Three weeks is pushing it. Don’t make one of your friends call you out on it. If word gets around, you’re finished in this town.
Well that just about does it. Don’t forget to look under the couch cushions before leaving for the Laundromat. And you were gonna give those nickels to the homeless. What were you thinking!
