Monday, May 12, 2008

Laundry Night.

Tonight, at the Laundromat, I encountered a mightily energetic brood of children. One of them had a pink scooter (which, of course, I coveted) and a tendency to burst into song. They forced me into hiding. And where was my chosen refuge? The restroom. I imagined that, since this is a facility with coin operated machinery, the manager decided to take advantage of this plethora of coinage by charging the restroom-goers one quarter per entry. Sanctuary comes at a hefty price indeed.

So, if I choose the button on the right, I get Spanish soap? Sweet.

3 comments:

The Infamous El Guapo said...

would you say, you have a plethora?

real archaeologists don't use whips.

Lindsey said...

Why, El Guapo?

Would you like some cool whhip?

Anonymous said...

Yea... sometimes I don't want soap... I want some fucking jabon!!! But not jamon.... two very different things