At first, I was like

…

But then, I was like

Come to think of it, I shouldn't have given her this idea...

And NO, I don’t have Tourette’s syndrome.

Yesterday morning, I walked outside and noticed a perfectly smooth piece of pre-owned Winterfresh chewing gum hanging from the dark, sinister underbelly of my peeling, black metal porch railing.

Immediately, I came to the only logical conclusion there was:  There’s a diabolically evil, toothless elderly gentleman lurking in the bushes, gumming gum to death, hanging it from porch railings.

I see what you did there… No teeth marks, no evidence.  Well played, old man.

You win... THIS time...

The next morning, I walk outside, and the gum still hasn’t dropped off.  Just then, a weather-beaten, 1998 Mercury Sable sputters past, blasting Destiny’s Child’s “Survivor.”  

So, I did what any curious person would do:

Poked it with a stick.

To my surprise, it was hard.

(That’s what she said.)

So, I poked it again, and it BURST OPEN.

(That’s what HE said.)

And oozed a green liquid. What the fuck??? Ok, now, we’re getting invaded by aliens.

aaaannnd…. I’m OUT this bitch.

I went back in the house, and decided to use my black-belt in “Google-Fu,” cuz i’m cold-blooded like that.  After trying entries like  ”Green eggs”, and filtering through thousands of search results peppered with “construction worker orange” colored books written by Dr. Seuss, I had an epiphany.

I googled “green cocoon”.

I killed a baby butterfly.

...Its actually kinda turquoise.

I should’ve taken my own advice:  Nobody wins with violence.

Yoked up.

No... But thank you! That was very considerate.

Turtlenecks hide hickeys from make-up sex. Common knowledge.

Yes the fuck you did.

Black woman + Cheating man = Arson. Elementary mathematics.

Not even you, Academy Award-winning Actor Denzel Washington.

.

.

.

School is cool. Say no to drugs. Just walk away. et cetera.

I’m also convinced that my closest friends and family stealthily follow me to Wash-World, wait for me to go play the “Smooth out the crinkled dollar bill before inserting” game with the change machine, then STEAL ONE T-SHIRT per trip to the laundromat.

This conspiracy is dragged out for months, as I wonder, “What the F#@K happened to my red Polo?”  Only to run into a friend or family member, wearing said polo, who is just as surprised that THEY have it.  ”OH. This is YOURS?! I was wondering where this came from!”

Yeah RIGHT.

Here’s to YOU, Laundry Day.

Note: This video is not intended for the fabric-softened heart.

Cheers!