peachycick321
11/11/08, 06:27 PM
The experience of the show was incredible.... so no doubt I'd buy some merch to remember it by. I spent a week in that shirt... it fit perfect, american apparel, obviously.... white as snow and a smell of memoir. Even my mom praised me for its appeal!
And then came that time that the smell and ketchup stain needed a little help from Tide. White socks, shirts, underpants and even a slipper got in that load...... it was a fair load. I heard the whirling of the cloths bumping and grinding.... mixing and mushing, squishing and splashing.
45 minutes of whatever i could do to pass the time, effortlessly.... and then I heard the buzzing alarm to give me notice that it's ready for me. . . I approached the washer.... (jaws approaching music).... I open the lid to the white bin of purity and gasped in an utmost traumatic manor. Dropping to the ground and staring blankly and the wall in disbelief.
NO. I dreamt it. Standing up slowly I poked my head, secretly, over the top to see if I was imagining things... to see if maybe for some reason my eyes were playing a color blinding trick on me (or the opposite). But I was wrong, the slower I poked my head over, the more vivid the pink of my laundry became. My heart sank as I reached in and pulled out the T-shirt. Oh no....... I sank again clenching the wet, now pink, shirt to my chest.... soaking through my cloths, but I wouldn't let go..... wouldn't let myself believe that it was over..... no more.
So please listen..... moral of the story is SEPARATE your colors CAREFULLY because one day you may find hidden a red sock tucked into that damn slipper you thought needed washing.
And yes, i could buy the shirt again... heck I could probably make it with some iron on stickers. But that shirt would be a con, a clone of that once incredible T-shirt that turned pink.
Nat.
Xoxo
And then came that time that the smell and ketchup stain needed a little help from Tide. White socks, shirts, underpants and even a slipper got in that load...... it was a fair load. I heard the whirling of the cloths bumping and grinding.... mixing and mushing, squishing and splashing.
45 minutes of whatever i could do to pass the time, effortlessly.... and then I heard the buzzing alarm to give me notice that it's ready for me. . . I approached the washer.... (jaws approaching music).... I open the lid to the white bin of purity and gasped in an utmost traumatic manor. Dropping to the ground and staring blankly and the wall in disbelief.
NO. I dreamt it. Standing up slowly I poked my head, secretly, over the top to see if I was imagining things... to see if maybe for some reason my eyes were playing a color blinding trick on me (or the opposite). But I was wrong, the slower I poked my head over, the more vivid the pink of my laundry became. My heart sank as I reached in and pulled out the T-shirt. Oh no....... I sank again clenching the wet, now pink, shirt to my chest.... soaking through my cloths, but I wouldn't let go..... wouldn't let myself believe that it was over..... no more.
So please listen..... moral of the story is SEPARATE your colors CAREFULLY because one day you may find hidden a red sock tucked into that damn slipper you thought needed washing.
And yes, i could buy the shirt again... heck I could probably make it with some iron on stickers. But that shirt would be a con, a clone of that once incredible T-shirt that turned pink.
Nat.
Xoxo