Hey all, What's up? "Hey, The Weekly Keith...What's that?" Well, dear reader, that is a dirty clothes bouquet, and I made it just for you. You may also know it as a hamper overflowing with dirty clothes. "That's nice, The Weekly Keith...But where did it come from?" I'll tell you, dear reader...
So I was watching the new Punisher movie today, and marveling at how awesome Jimmy McNulty is as Jigsaw, when I got the urge to go into my room and tidy up a bit...That's right...I decided it was time to unclutter "The Sleep Machine."
Now, most of the readers have been to my apartment and have seen my room, and know it's a disaster area. This is maily due to the fact that I don't have a dresser, but instead just pile my clothes on the floor. A Clean Pile, and a Dirty Pile. The problem as of late, though, is that the two piles have decided to merge into a single entity. It was threatening to take over the entire area. So, as I said, it was time to do this shit.
Before I continue, I must tell you...I'm not ashamed to admit that my room is a mess. It's an integral part of me...and I don't buy into that whole thing link between a cluttered room and a cluttered mind...That's just bullshit. It's my room, and I keep it the way I want to. All I do in there is sleep and get dressed. That's it. So, if you want to judge, judge something else.
OK, so back to the matter at hand. I decided to spruce up the place a bit. So I turned on the new Mastodon record (which is fucking awesome), and started on a journey of self-discovery.
I found a whole bunch of crap I forgot I even had. I found my Happy Days Mr. Cunningham action figure that Allen gave me. I found my VHS copy of The Hitman starring Chuck Norris (wish I'd found a VCR, too). I found a whole bunch of khaki pants, not that I wear them, on hangers. I even found a flannel shirt...I didn't even know I had a fucking flannel shirt. I mean, it was fun. Like Christmas, only instead of a tree and packages, you have dirty clothes.
Perhaps most important of all, I found my copy of the Russin and Downs screenwriting book. I'd been looking for that thing for a while, and BAM, under a pair of blue-jeans.
The funny thing about all these dirty clothes is that I had an empty hamper stuck behind my door. There was no need to even have a dirty clothes pile. Anyways, I began to fill the hamper, and fill, and fill, and fill, all the while finding little treasures. Eventually I finished sorting the clean from the dirty, and my hamper was overflowing. It was amazing. Had I waited another day...I don't even want to think about that. The planet may have collapsed in on itself, killing all life. I don't want to do that, I like some of you.
The next step is doing laundry. I hate doing laundry.
Now, I don't want to give the impression that my room is in any way clean. It's still filthy. It's just a little more organized...and swiffered. That's the best you're going to get.
I know this isn't that great of a post, but really I don't care. The next one might not be even better. You want quality? I cannot guarantee any. I can guarantee you this...Dirty clothes bouquets for everyone.
Heh, I just realized I'm airing my dirty laundry on the internet...Get it?
Keith
