My Washing Machine is a NardBagel

It eats my socks, ties my pants in knots, and sounds vaguely like a cat in a blender during the rinse cycle. Of course the douchecopter who designed this apartment put the washer and dryer unit in my bedroom. Not only has that resulting in a couple of disturbed DIY bedroom experiments (roommate may be permanently scarred), but it makes secondary applications a traumatic experience. Dog spends much time looking at the washing machine with concern. It has a tendency to stop and start at random times, too, which nearly led to Dog crap-plastering my walls in fear.

In other news, I leave for a month this Sunday. Ween will be my carry-on. Essentially, after several hours of carting her around in the pre-approved airplane tote, my back is going to be perfectly thrashed.

Before:

After:

 

And that’s a pretty accurate representation–just saying…

Also, this is neat. Boyfriend sent it to me:

Boyfriend should be sending me the dog carrier and a shiny present in the mail today. Dog is snoozing in the sun spot in the living room. Today is a day for truffle making, methinks. That and drawing pinups. I’m ridiculously obsessed with them and my best friend Annie feeds my addiction by providing me with plenty of calendars and the like.

Also–watch this:

I’m really loving the Fight Like Apes song….and the girls….yeah…hm

Okay. Done.

Also….guess who got secondaries back from all but one of the med schools she applied to. That’s right, this bitch.

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