I woke up quite early this Sunday morning, as I knew the end of month was near, and my stress levels tend to relax on that notion. We had spent most of the weekend preparing for a visit from one of my gf’s friends. I’m sure I slacked in true guy fashion but this time, I’ve been recovering from a deadly flu this last two weeks so assistance was at minimal. Additionally I’ve noticed getting sick is a great way to shed a few lbs: I’ve lost 10 so far!.
Being in a building without laundry is quite a pain. I’ve grown more accustom to the expense of sending it out, and having it clean, folded and ready for the closet in a few days without lifting a finger. But at a dollar a pound, this adds up. So every so weeks, we are the couple schlepping through soho with our laundry to the 24 hr laundromat in the village to save 40 bucks.
On a good day, we can get our load in, head to Washington Sq park to people watch, listen to the hippies play, a round of Pétanque or just hang with a book before heading back to dry and fold. This last weekend, we came back for the monotonous folding rituals and I got a relationship shocker….
My mate likes to make sure her jeans and towels are crispy hot when they sizzle out of the dryer so as I’m playing hot potato with our cloths, dumping them into the basket some paper pops out of the dryer on to the floor. We both look down and it’s the remnants of a used Trojan condom wrapper. *Her mouth drops to the floor*
“What the Fuck is this!!!”
…oh boy… Now I know that this isn’t mine and the way my mind first processed this incident, my initial reaction was laughter. After all I haven’t used condoms in years and certainly not this brand (“Ribbed for her pleasure”). Then I began to understand her tone and realize, “She thinks this is actually mine… that it came out of my pants and was dried up in our load of laundry!”
Wow…
When ever I add items to the public washer or dryer, I always check the machines for papers, pens, a red sock, candy, crayons, gum or other items that could ruin the clothes I put in there. She was the one that put our clothes in both the wash and dryer this round and I made the case that it was somewhere in transport that she didn’t check what was left over in the machines. I certainly don’t cheat on my woman and already being a man, I’ve had to work for my trust with any woman.
The next comment is, what do you do now? could there have been a used condom in the wash/dryer too? Do you wash and/or dry the load again… a resounding yes!!! so we spent an extra hour there because someone left their trash in the laundry machine – complicating my relationship and forcing me to pay an additional $6.00 to clean my clothes again…
Next time, dirty condom wrapper carrier…. Use a trash! Why are you holding on to the memories? She/he was a one night fling right, why keep the used leftovers of a night of first timers sex…. disgusting.
So there’s this story floating about a fight at the local dive next to my APT here in SoHo – Mi’Lady’s. Its the only real dive in SoHo and I’m sure the aristocracy wonder why it still lingers in “their” nice area of town. Alas, the story in the rags is that Johnny roughed up a “frat-boy” for caressing with a rose, the cheek of his side-dish 
Well being so close in the neighbor hood and that the place is much better than most of the pretentious cocktail establishments in this area, I heard some proper gossip. Apparently this story is yet another case of the PR manager of said Hollywood star, using the incident for publicity and dressing it up proper for a more Jackass biased story. 
Then up steps a few fellow Mexicans just off their dishwashing shift at a local restaurant to confront Johnny about his fellow man. From the state that Johnny was in and the reported size of the Mexicans, the local word is, Johnny was out numbered and out matched. Words, finger pointing, and some hand to hand contact ensued… a bottle fell off the table and the bar manager stepped in to “save Knoxville from getting his ass kicked”.