Quarters Now In Higher Demand Than Dollars

What is up. My laundry situation fucking sucks now.

I have to pay for my laundry – it’s $2.50 to wash and dry a load. That means I have to have all these quarters on hand.

You’re thinking, So what, that’s reality for almost everybody, stop complaining, etc.

At my last place, laundry was free. Now I can’t just do laundry whenever I want. I mean, I can, but I have to pay for it.

Still, this is far from the worst laundry sitch I’ve experienced. There is laundry on the premises. Remember in Brooklyn when I had to walk 8 blocks to do laundry?????????????? HOLY SHIT.

But I digress.

Is it perfume from a dress that makes me so digress?

No, it is fabric softener.

p.s. I hate the phrase “but I digress”.

p.p.s. I also hate when people shout a personal conversation across a crowded room. But I also kind of like it because it’s something I would never do.

p.p.p.s. I also hate when people have serious conversations about comedy.

Forgot About Laun-Dre

Yo yo yo.

What the fuck is going on.

I’m doing laundry once a week, while you’re storing quarters in your beak.

When I say FREE LAUNDRY, I’m not campaigning for a cause. I’m telling you my situation. Laundry costs nothing over where I live – how about where you live? What? You say it’s free? Do you pay for electricity? Then it’s not free, motherfucker. I don’t pay for Jack P. Shit. Bitch.

I already told you this. Now I’m braggin.

So what. What you gonna do? You gonna put your head down and cry? You gonna say, “But… but… but… this is unfair!” Shut the fuck up. I deserve this. I used to walk eight goddam slimy ass blocks to do my laundry. What’d you do? Walk three blocks, including one where you cut across a yard?

BIG DEAL. FUCK YOU.

I’m the only Laundromack in these parts.

You forgot + I reminded you = Now you know.

End of equation.

Now I’ma get back to my morning paper.

Absurd Sign Tingles Spine… Or Does It?

YO. There’s a large laundromat on the northwest corner of Pico and Fairfax, large enough to have its own parking lot. There’s a sign in the lot that reads, “Laundry Parking Only. Others: $20.”

Waiting on the bus, listening to The Walkmen (“My head is full of dreams, it’s nothing new / but baby, dreaming is all a man can do”), I look around. This neighborhood is hardly bustling. Who the fuck is gonna pay $20 to park in this lot?

Across the street is a Walgreen’s. Walgreen’s has its own lot.

Diagonal from the ‘mat is a Von’s. As is typical with grocery stores here, it’s got its own lot as well.

Which leaves the stores on the southwest side:

The travel store, specializing in last-minute travel. Soooo, there’s this thing called the internet… it blew up about ten years ago… rendering travel agents worthless. Better start selling drugs.

There’s also a Western Union, a tattoo parlor, and a place to get your taxes done. No need for a lot.

Oh, and also, there’s plenty of available street parking.

Conclusion: not really a high demand for a parking lot at Pico and Fairfax. There’s not even a demand for a bike rack. I bet they could rip up the sidewalk and no one would notice.

That part of town is empty as shit.

So I say, twenty dollars? More like, twenty boners.

However, a greater question remains: what does this sign really mean???

Serious Laundro Mack

All that shit before was child’s play.

Welcome to the real world… Laundrification Nation.

Where you got laundry in your own backyard.

You go out the backdoor, walk about 20 pleasant feet in the yard, open the door, and you got a washer and drier.

Does it take quarters? Tokens? Cards?

None of the above. Shit’s free.

You could do laundry 45 times a week if you want. Still free.

Fucking child’s play.

Who used to carry their dirty clothes 8 blocks to the ‘mat? I don’t know that punk chump in a two dollar suit.

I thought I was the Laundro Mack before, but I was just the Laundro Hack.

Now I’m the Laundro Mack, really for real.

You Can’t Stop Me From Doing My Laundry!!!

Did my laundry this morning, bitch. No issues.

Even brought in a sweater for dry cleaning.

The lady behind the counter was like, “You really know what you’re doing.”

I was like, “I even know that.”

The only issue I had was when I was putting money in the dryer, and one of the quarters wouldn’t fit. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t a quarter, but ten pence! From 19 freaking 92!

Whaaaaaaaaaatatat?!?!?!?

Made me look like a fool. Trying to jam a coin into the machine, looking around, being all like, “What the fuck’s up with this machine?! Does it accept quarters or what the shit??!”

Sure, I played it off smooth, but still, I looked like a damned fool.

How the eff did ten pence get into my quarter jar???

Must’ve been dropped in there by an Englishman.

Suspects: one.

The only Englishman I know…

Stiggers.

The Laundro Mack

Two nights ago I was walking home in the pouring rain, when I noticed something… a new laundromat a block and a half from my apartment!

What’s up now, bitches???!? You thought I couldn’t do this!

Not even the rain could stop me from finding this new laundromat in close proximity to my a.p.t.

No more carrying my muthafuckin laundry 5 blocks to the ‘mat. Now I’m out the door, turn the corner, and BLAMMO!

Laundry time.

Snap.

Motherfucker, you thought I’d always be carrying my laundry 5 blocks like a got damned fool.

I cut that shit in thirds. Even less than thirds.

While my laundry’s in the wash, I can go home to chill at my convenience. Same when my laundry’s drying, motherfucker.

You thought I couldn’t do this. What’s up now?

Now I’m so close to the laundromat, they call me The Laundro Mack.

What you got to say now? Nothing. Shit. Shut the fuck up, you ain’t even sayin nothin.

Damn, ho.

Doing laundry at this new laundromat gonna be so smooth.

Next time I clean my clothes, you know I’ll be going to this new close-by laundromat to clean my most fashionable linens.

I thought you knew.

Damn, my clothes gonna smell so fresh. Motherfucker. You thought I couldn’t do this.

What’s up now?????