Just now, three (well, four) things happened simultaneously. 1) An extremely low-level jet airplane flew by overhead, shaking the house; 2) a large garbage or dump truck drove past my house, rocking my foundation; 3) C and M switched on their high-pitched vacuum cleaner and began rolling it over the nice wood floors, which 4) made me think--for one split second--that the world had come to an end and cyclons were descending upon us all, my house being the first one to be decimated. Either these three things really were perfectly timed, or they happen all the time and I'm so paranoid I notice them.
Either way, I need a Scotch.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
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5 comments:
Well, clearly what happened was, the plane and truck started shaking the house, which blew up a few stray specks of dust on the floor, driving C insane and running for the vacuum to GET THOSE FUCKERS BEFORE THEY GET AWAY. MUST CLEANSE.
MUST...BE..SPOTLESS.
So, the Cylons, in a way, did attack. Only the Cylons are little specks of dust instead of murderous cyborgs of our own creation, and instead of nuking billions of people across 12 planets, they were destroyed by a wrathful, neat-freak god.
Whatever: You people can jibe at me for being neat all you want, but the truth of the matter is that you're all jealous because you hate cleaning and always have so much of it to do (Matt's perpetual sink full of dishes is an example), whereas my living environment seems to stay tidy almost automatically. My apartment stays pristine and orderly with very little visible effort, and it drives you all crazy.
What it comes down to is that it's all right to pick on people who are better-than-average at something, but mean to pick on people who are average or worse. It's a fucking double standard, and I'm sick of it, y'hear? You don't hear me making fun of B because he's lived in his apartment for over six months and has NEVER vacuumed it. That's right, never. Think about how much dead skin is piled up on the floor. Or speculating over the probablility of the house burning down when a giant dust tumbleweed finally rolls up against his gas fireplace and ignites. And M, don't even get me started about the room full of boxes and garbage you had at your old apartment, or how long it took you to get rid of all that stuff. You were like an old lady hoarding milkjugs and newspapers. Or the constant search for a clean glass to drink water out of when I was over, because every single dish you owned was dirty.
Amateurs.
Hey--I sweep and then mop with a Swiffer. I don't...even..(snif!)..own...a vacuum....cleaner(snif!). I guess...I'm...(snif!)...a..slob.
Well, Spring Break will be here soon, and I will finally return to an aprtment that looks like a grown-up lives here. Apart from the steering wheel mounted in front of my LCD and the blueprints for a three-tiered electric train system.
And I have been put in my place.
I submit.
i'd like to point out that queercat totally played the "and i am getting some and y'all ain't" card. kick ass.
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