Boys,
Are we still 12? If not, do your own damn laundry you teat suckling little waste of space. Give your mom a break for god's sake. She had to raise your sissy ass and kiss every one of your poor little boo-boos until you were 26 and finally moved out of the house because you’ve realized that the phrase “try not to wake my parents” doesn’t really get the ladies going. Your mom had to carry you for nine months, change your diapers, explain to you that yes it’s okay to cry but when you're 14 enough is enough, grow a set, and that no, it’s not okay to still sleep with a blankey. I know how much you love coming home, laying on a twin bed and staring up at your favorite Creed poster but it’s time to sack up and learn when to add the fabric softener. If you’re too stupid or too lazy to learn how to do it, go to the local cleaners and cough up the 72 cents a pound to get all of your pink Polo’s and plaid shorts pressed just the way you like them.
No, your mom doesn’t love doing this, no matter what she says. You are making her secretly resent herself for raising such a maternally dependant little piss ant who would rather brag about the glory days of winning some rec Ultimate Frisbee competition at the local JuCo than putting on his only suit and going to a job interview that his dad had to set up for him because a resume that shows nothing but being the social chair their fraternity doesn’t exactly scream “Management Ready.”
Josh…
There are some things men know nothing about. Purses. Shoes. The Prime Time slot on the CW. And, of course, laundry.
Look, I get it. You don’t know a gentle cycle from tricycle, but you smell like hell. Who better to turn to than the woman who’s been washing your skid-marked tightie whities for as long as you can remember? Newsflash: She doesn’t actually enjoy that. I know the image of Susie Homemaker has been ingrained into your deepest memories due to your unhealthy attachment to Nick at Nite housewives, but soon you’re going to realize that your mom didn’t want to be Carol Brady, she wanted to be Lucy Ricardo.
Let’s be honest here. You haven’t separated white’s from colored’s since that awkward day in grade school when your 4th grade teacher decided to take the hands on approach to teaching about Black History Month. Well, guess what? Your mom doesn’t want that job either, you Aryan prick. That’s where Color Guard comes in. I don’t know if this technology was created by men, but it sure as hell is for men. With this crap, you can throw whatever you want in the wash, and you can be sure your Reading Rainbow t-shirt won’t turn you and your socks into a transgender Rainbow Brite.
So, what’s your excuse now? Nothing. Man up and clean up those pit stains, you sweaty, disgusting pig. And for crying out loud, call your mother and thank her for the years of torment she’s put up with.
Yes...the man speaks the truth. Give your poor mother a break from having to wipe your ass. Soon enough you'll starting dating a woman exactly like her so you can finally exercise those Oedipus like fantasy's you have and get your wash done and folded like a big boy. Until then, if the hamper is overflowing and you don't know what to wear to the latest Nickelback concert, do your mother a favor, man up and try to unwrap the mystery that is the laundromat. "$1.75 per load? What the f@#& does that even mean bro?"
Trust me, it'll be a wild ride.
-Will Saulsbery and Josh Yakovitz
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