Monday, July 30, 2007

Can You Say Socks? Piles Of Socks? Mounds of socks?

Fucking Everest of socks? I am a little pissed off today. The backwards asses at Service Master returned our clothing last week and today I am sorting through 3 30 gallon garbage bags of unmatched FUCKING socks which before the fire were all nice and rolled up matched. There are 5 of us in the house and my husband is a anal sock wearer needs to have like 400 pairs before he is happy. He has issues and I am sure the next one will be what a shitty homemaker I am, because I threw away a hundred pairs of his mismatched freaking socks. Kiss my ass buddy it is his fault why can he not be smart and buy the same brand, style and size socks so that really all you need is like 10 pairs WTF you will always have a match and no mystery socks. A mystery sock in my house is the one sock that gets found a year or so after he has worn out or lost the other potential matches. This sock is ALWAYS the other mans sock. You know the other man who comes to visit while hubby works his ass off, the one who loves me unshowered and screaming at 3 kids while trying to clean up the aftermath of the 3ft tornado named Lukus. You know the one who runs out and leaves a sock behind. WHATEVER RETARD please heed earlier advise about buying the same socks everytime and viola mystery sock disappears. Ok enough about the socks I need sleep.

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