The washing machine in my apartment building broke, so I was forced to go to a laundromat today. I’ve never been to a laundromat in Los Angeles. No one I know has ever been to a laundromat here. After spending 12 minutes in one, I understand why. I’m writing out this column by hand as a helpful guide for police after they find my corpse.
Here is a list of people who may have killed and/or mutilated me beyond recognition:Cocaine addict who keeps angrily staring at me. I’m watching Youtube on my phone. I’m watching Youtube on my phone. I’m not noticing you, or how weird it is that your hands shake involuntarily, or that creepy twitch you keep having. I’m watching Youtube on my phone. I’m watching Youtube on my phone.
Elderly owner who guards the change machine. “You do laundry?” the bitter old woman asks accusingly. I nod and point to the very obvious laundry basket in my hands. “We not change factory,” she says. “We not here make change for fun time. Last guy who get change without do laundry, he learn lesson.” I nod and walk away, frightened to test her.
Drunk who wandered in and just started asking people questions for no reason. Yes, that is my shirt. Thank you, it IS neat. Yes, I do think peanut butter is the best condiment. No, I’ve never been to Tijuana. Cheap hookers, eh? Well thank you for the tip. Ah yes, I suppose you WOULD have to cut a hole in a paper plate to keep the crabs from jumping from them onto you. Well, thank you for sharing. You’ve been an absolute delight.
Underwear thief. Did that guy just take a pair of panties out of a dryer, smell them and then put them back in and sit down again? Somebody’s got high standards. Back in my day, the panty thieves took what they could get, and were damn glad for it.
Fat, bald guy who fell asleep and might be dead. According to the drunk who wanders in and randomly asks people questions, the Armenian guy in the wifebeater shirt who is slumped against the wall hasn’t moved in at least four hours. I asked the lady who guards the change machine if he’s dead, and she said, “You do laundry? We not change factory here.”
The fart baron. Hey there, guy with a weird Salvador Dali mustache. The more you look around and make annoyed “Ugh, gross” facial expressions, the more it confirms that you dealt it.
Foreign guy who is only here to chastise people for using too much detergent. “Americans, they use too much detergent. I do not understand. One-third of cap! No more! The companies, they want you to waste so you buy more sooner. Hey, you! Lady in hat! One-third cap, not full cap! You crazy or something?! The Tide companies, they are owning you!”
Guy in a trenchcoat who I’m pretty sure is going to flash someone. Please don’t. Oh God, please don’t open your coat . . . okay, he’s just shifting in his seat. Whew. I was afraid . . . Oh no! Don’t! Okay, he was just tying his shoe. Close one. If I get out of this without seeing some strange dude’s penis, I will consider today a full success. GAH! DAMN IT! YOU SON OF A BITCH! PUT IT AWAY! GROSS!
Guy who has no laundry, but is still here for some reason. What is he doing here? Is he a child molester? A rapist? Is he poor, and just wants to watch TV for free? Ohhhh, I see. He was waiting for the old lady at the change machine to go to the bathroom so he could use one of the washing machines to tie-dye a t-shirt.
Former MTV star Tom Green. Is that Tom Green? It looks like him. He has a similar goatee. He seems uncomfortable with the fact that I keep staring at him, so maybe he’s not Tom Green. I’m going to keep staring at him anyway. I should ask him if Glen Humplik is dead. I’ll bet he IS dead. Yeah, he’s really uncomfortable with me staring at him. Maybe things have gotten so bad for him financially that he comes here to steal people’s clothes and sell them on eBay. I’ll bet he could make at least minimum wage doing that. Not too shabby, Tom Green. Not too shabby at all.
A girl who messaged me on OK Cupid once, but I did not respond back because she’s obscenely obese. Uh-oh. I hope she doesn’t talk to me. If she asks, I’ll just say I never check my account. Yeah, that’s the ticket. I never check it. It certainly isn’t because I’m afraid she would accidentally crush me during lovemaking.
Midget I dared to ride in the clothes dryer, and then I forgot to let him out and he died. Actually, this only happened in a dream I had once, so never mind.