a little blog action before bed.
I come from a family that washes everything before they use it. What about you?
See me, I bend the rules a little. Partially cause I'm lazy, and partially cause I've lived in a dorm for the past few years and washing things took too much effort, haha. Some things, of course, are a must... for me anyway. This includes new dishes or kitchenware... anything that's going to touch something that's going into my body... I didn't wash our new can opener, but I did wash the cutting board. Also, this includes clothes that will be touching the sensitive parts... basically panties, some shirts, etc. Socks? Um, probably not... just cause there's a certain foot satisfaction from stuffing your toes into a freshly unused sock. Any hand-me-downs (no matter what they were) were washed, der. And for the most part, towels. Again, the sensitive parts... even the face. Kitchen towels... maybe in the future, but for now, they're clean enough for my hands right outta the package. I mean, it all gets washed EVENTUALLY... just not pre-use. I ain't got that many quarters.
Back to the towel thing. See, I bought Ben's birthday present at a store that offered me a free towel with my purchase. Um, ok, I'll take it, and look at that, it's shaped like a little palm tree (oh the wonders of shrink wrap). So said beach towel remained in this shape cause I forgot about it until about a week ago. I opened the thing up, and this blue beach towel has been hanging in a crimpled fashion on the shower rod. Neither of us have used it, and I have every intention of washing it before we used it. However, today, I grabbed a couple of towels to lay out on in the back to get some sun... and decidedly grabbed this cute blue towel to lie DIRECTLY on (I had bathing-suit like clothes on, no worries). So I lie in the hot sun, I read, I sweat, I turn over, I read some more, I eat some tortilla chips with a hint of lime, I proceed to get sunburn up and down my backside, then I read some more, and head inside to cool down and almost kill myself by choking on a hair clip when I gasped cause Ben scared me (that's a different story). Now, by this point, my skin told me I had done it again - that lying in the sun for over an hour produces burnt results, never the tan I imagine doing so. So I ask Ben how bad it is... he says "Not that bad, but you have this black mark shaped like ..." and he fingers it across the skin. I naturally assume it's shadows or an imprint from the shirt I was leaning against, and drop the matter.
Then I change my clothes and inspect this burn for myself with the guidance of our superbrightshiny bathroom lights... and I see distinct shapes... shapes that look like letters... shapes that oddly resemble the backward "STAL" from the word "AEROPOSTALE", printed in white-on-blue fashion across the bottom of a certain palm tree packaged free gift!!!
SO NOW I'M BRANDED.
Yes, the black was infact blue, the dye from the stupid cheap free gift that I foolishly didn't wash first. Not to worry - I have similar prints on my belly and white tube top to match. I can scrub it off the front, I can bleach it out of the top, but what the hell am I going to do about the stain on my sunburnt skin??? I surely can't scrub it, and dontchyaknow, it's also in that hardest-to-reach place (probably because that place is directly opposite my top-heaviest section, ever so forcefully pressing my weight into the blue dye on the free towel on the other, clean towel I had beneath it.
Just going to ride this one out... hopefully enough soapy water and cool showers will dissolve the inky marks.
This story would be better told in person, cause I have a great story-telling voice that goes with it perfectly.
I just hope no one looks at my back and thinks I've been stamped stale. Bad joke, I know it.
See me, I bend the rules a little. Partially cause I'm lazy, and partially cause I've lived in a dorm for the past few years and washing things took too much effort, haha. Some things, of course, are a must... for me anyway. This includes new dishes or kitchenware... anything that's going to touch something that's going into my body... I didn't wash our new can opener, but I did wash the cutting board. Also, this includes clothes that will be touching the sensitive parts... basically panties, some shirts, etc. Socks? Um, probably not... just cause there's a certain foot satisfaction from stuffing your toes into a freshly unused sock. Any hand-me-downs (no matter what they were) were washed, der. And for the most part, towels. Again, the sensitive parts... even the face. Kitchen towels... maybe in the future, but for now, they're clean enough for my hands right outta the package. I mean, it all gets washed EVENTUALLY... just not pre-use. I ain't got that many quarters.
Back to the towel thing. See, I bought Ben's birthday present at a store that offered me a free towel with my purchase. Um, ok, I'll take it, and look at that, it's shaped like a little palm tree (oh the wonders of shrink wrap). So said beach towel remained in this shape cause I forgot about it until about a week ago. I opened the thing up, and this blue beach towel has been hanging in a crimpled fashion on the shower rod. Neither of us have used it, and I have every intention of washing it before we used it. However, today, I grabbed a couple of towels to lay out on in the back to get some sun... and decidedly grabbed this cute blue towel to lie DIRECTLY on (I had bathing-suit like clothes on, no worries). So I lie in the hot sun, I read, I sweat, I turn over, I read some more, I eat some tortilla chips with a hint of lime, I proceed to get sunburn up and down my backside, then I read some more, and head inside to cool down and almost kill myself by choking on a hair clip when I gasped cause Ben scared me (that's a different story). Now, by this point, my skin told me I had done it again - that lying in the sun for over an hour produces burnt results, never the tan I imagine doing so. So I ask Ben how bad it is... he says "Not that bad, but you have this black mark shaped like ..." and he fingers it across the skin. I naturally assume it's shadows or an imprint from the shirt I was leaning against, and drop the matter.
Then I change my clothes and inspect this burn for myself with the guidance of our superbrightshiny bathroom lights... and I see distinct shapes... shapes that look like letters... shapes that oddly resemble the backward "STAL" from the word "AEROPOSTALE", printed in white-on-blue fashion across the bottom of a certain palm tree packaged free gift!!!
SO NOW I'M BRANDED.
Yes, the black was infact blue, the dye from the stupid cheap free gift that I foolishly didn't wash first. Not to worry - I have similar prints on my belly and white tube top to match. I can scrub it off the front, I can bleach it out of the top, but what the hell am I going to do about the stain on my sunburnt skin??? I surely can't scrub it, and dontchyaknow, it's also in that hardest-to-reach place (probably because that place is directly opposite my top-heaviest section, ever so forcefully pressing my weight into the blue dye on the free towel on the other, clean towel I had beneath it.
Just going to ride this one out... hopefully enough soapy water and cool showers will dissolve the inky marks.
This story would be better told in person, cause I have a great story-telling voice that goes with it perfectly.
I just hope no one looks at my back and thinks I've been stamped stale. Bad joke, I know it.