They call me Slim Shady...

What I hate the most about living in an large apartment complex (besides people pissing in your elevator) is having to share the washers and dryers with other people. It really grosses me out. All I can imagine is peoples nasty skid marked underwear and vomit stained shirts from the wee little babies that inhabit this building. And no one EVER cleans out the lint trap in the dryers. I use 8x the amount of laundry detergent because I think it might prevent me from getting some kind of STD. If I could afford it ($1.50 for a wash and $1.50 for a dry? That burns my mutherfuckin' ass)I would do a "prewash cycle" on the washers before I used them. People are fucking disgusting.

As I was changing my laundry over into the lovely germ infested dryer I noticed the two pathetic looking bras that I own. I like to "airdry" them because I saw Carrie do it on Sex and the City and it seemed like a good idea. Yes, I am easily influenced by television. So anyways, I was thinking Gee I should really invest in some new bras which lead me to Fuck I have a really terrible wardrobe (currently wearing: pajama pants and a black wife beater and some cloth clogs from Target circa 2004. In my defense, I blend in well with my cotenants. ) These thoughts give me chills because I HATE SHOPPING. Why? Two reasons, my friend. This is what happens on shopping trips, I:

1. Can't find jack shit and everything makes me feel bad about myself and my body. OR
2. Everything I see I love and I want want want it all but I can not afford anything but this pair of socks on the sale rack. OR
3. I buy what I want and then return it all the next week because I feel guilty.

Okay that is three reasons. Damn it.
There was a time in the questionable year 2000 that I decided I was a man and I wanted to give away all my clothes except for jeans, wife beaters and white mens tshirts. I was 18 years old and living with my best friend and her boyfriend (who would eventually become my exhusband and her baby daddy oohhh the plot thickens). At that time in my life I was smoking a lot of weed and brooding late at night to Henry Rollins spoken word albums. I was also listening to a lot of Eminem. I even bleached my hair "white trash blonde". I could really relate to being an angry white boy. I was very horny. And very lonely. So I gave all my girl clothes away to best friend. I ended up moving back home a few months later because I started to hate best friend and boyfriend. And as much as I tried I could not smoke weed everyday and be functional.
But before I left, I stole all my clothes back.