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Jett Superior laid this on you on || September 1, 2004 || 10:39 am

It all evens out in the wash.

In a supreme display of love, devotion and egalitarianism, I changed clothes detergent when Maxim and I got married. It seems that he has ’sensitive skin’. His mother informed me after I married him that, “Oh yes, I’ve always had to use Brand Ex, because that’s the only one that doesn’t break him out.”

(side note: He is also allergic to latex. Thus, Mathias. I’m sure all of you were dying to know that, so there you have it. /side note)

It could possibly have been a deal-breaker, because I am one of those jackasses that clings fervently to a very few things (once I’ve found them worthy of being labeled with the adjective YAY!) until they are discontinued or die: lipsticks, hairdressers, moisturizers, salad dressings, female friends, clothes detergent. I am sad to admit that yes, I am –although it is selectively done– rabidly brand-loyal.

But wisely, everyone in Maxim’s extended family waited to slide this info to me (and he was smart enough to not require any laundry duty of me) until after the nuptials. I am a woman of character and would never, ever in a million years divorce someone over their choice of laundry soap.

(Soda pop flavors, however, are an entirely different matter. Mike and Biff? Both Co-Cola drinkers. Co-Cola drinkers apparently make very, very bad husbands.)

So I’m flexible, right? I can accommodate. And I do accommodate. Despite the fact that I am the Very Most Importanttm person in this house, I realize I live with others and they have their own needs. Sometimes I even let them hold the remote.

Alright, as our groundwork, we’ve established that I’m a giver; I canna help it…it’s in my (evil, evil, so very dastardly) nature. But I am also reservedly product-loyal.

So you people can understand why, when I reached for the laundry detergent yesterday evening and found it to be the same brand but a different scent, I let fly with a primal wail so long and loud as to have the entire Superior family gathered at the utility room door within mere seconds. The children were sent away, Maxim was chided for his foolish, risk-taking behavior, he was sufficiently penitent (promising never, ever, EVER to do such a thing again) to merit begrudging forgiveness and was summarily dismissed to go on daydreaming about hairy hippie women and the perfect homebrewed lager.

He would have not gotten off so lightly had it not been for Monday afternoon.

Maxim is off work on Mondays. In deference to that, I carry my caseload on other days. That way he and I get to spend a little time together smoking crackrock and forcing the terrified woman tied to our bedstead to do the same yukking it up and maybe catching a flick or sommat. ‘Or sommat’ meaning all up on it wit da nookie.

You see, in our household, during the school year, Mondays are guaranteed fundays, dear and loyal Muffinasses. Yesssss, indeedy. It’s so easy to get a piece of ass around here on Mondays between eight ay emm (have to hold an hour-and-a-half after the threepack gets on the bus in reserve in the event that we are criminally forced to make a mad dash to school to ferry some forgotten object) and two pee emm that it should be criminal. Mmmm, handcuffs….

Ar-ar.

Kind of.

So Mondays: It’s fun getting laid in the various parts of the house that are off-limits when the wee ones are gadding about. This past Monday, however, found us in the environs of our bedroom (new manymanythreadcount sheets I found impossibly cheap at Ross, WOO!) awash in really great sensations. Upon completion of the gymnastics, as we lie there smooching and glowing and shit like that, we could hear the neighbor across the street mowing away at his lawn.

Maxim suddenly popped up on his knees, opened the blinds, and yelled, “HA-HA! You’re mowing the yard and we’re doing it!!”

Between waves of choking laughter, I said two things:

“You have just ensured that I will never, ever be able to get really mad at you ay-GAIN.”

“Dude, I’m blogging that.”

15 worked it out »

  1. charles 9.1.2004

    Homebrewed lager? A man after my own heart. I even bought a second refrigerator (used) and an industrial thermostat made by Honeywell that I traveled deep into Queens to acquire. A small amount or re-wiring and the thermostat kept the refrigerator to within a 3 degree range. I lost my girlfriend right around then, but why quibble over details?

     
  2. Jettomatika 9.1.2004

    Funny you should say that, as I bought him his first brew kit a few Christmases ago.

    Man, at first I was so pleased because he was SO. FARGING. EXCIIIIITED. Like a little kid, even. I did not know that brewing takes on a life of its own.

    Plus, it’s incredibly rapacious with regard to cabinet space.

    I have been kicking m’self (as well as gagging at the stench of boiling hops) ever since.

     
  3. charles 9.1.2004

    Here’s the thing though. After smelling the various ingredients in all their different stages, you turn pro at tasting commercial beers and naming what you taste in them. Descriptive terminology flows off your tongue. First it impresses everyone. After a while they just nod and smile and wait for you to finish.

     
  4. Jettomatika 9.1.2004

    Or impale you on something sharp.

    Or even blunt and rusty, depending on the homicidal degree to which you’ve driven them.

     
  5. Jettomatika 9.1.2004

    Wow, isn’t it *neeaaaat* how we’re here at the same time?

     
  6. Kat 9.1.2004

    Whatever… while the homebrew part was okay, I really liked the sex part better. Thanks for that racy little glimpse of matrimony, warms my, uh, heart.

     
  7. blamb 9.1.2004

    Wait, so let me get this straight … the man inserted his pee pee into your bagina?

     
  8. Jettomatika 9.1.2004

    NO, BRETT.

    He slipped his weenis into my noo-noo.

     
  9. Jettomatika 9.1.2004

    KAT! You’re swellcome!

     
  10. Maktaaq 9.2.2004

    What makes Coca Colers so bad? Should I specifically be looking for Pepsi drinkers, or do I need to find someone with even more refined taste, like say, Canada Dry drinkers?

    < -------- Le Rat is very cute.

    From a former rat owner

     
  11. Anonymous 9.2.2004

    Le Rat.

    !

    !

    !

    V

     
  12. hans 9.2.2004

    Jett,

    Being a Coke drinker does not make one a bad husband; simply a bad person.

    personally, I prefer Sas’parilla, it angries up the blood!

     
  13. Duuude 9.2.2004

    Awwright. Doin’ the laundry. Cool.

     
  14. Jettomatika 9.2.2004

    Anyone using fake contact info and not-usually-called-by nick to mock me gets a punch in the throat.

    Or verbally excoriated, whichever is most fun and amusing for me at the time.

    Open mocking under a recognizable name, contact e-mail and/or URL, however, is encouraged.

    DUDE.

     
  15. Suzanne 10.3.2006

    Ah… saw them at HiFi Buys Amphitheater Saturday… with Cross Fade, Hinder, Three Days Grace, Staind. (I’d never heard them before but liked them pretty damn well!)

     

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