Being one of my t-shirts is not an easy task. You get beat up all day long and then washed improperly at some point, if washed at all, before being thrown in the "clean" pile on my floor. One of the advantages of living a completely disorganized existence is that things like laundry are really simple.
When I drag my pitiable body out of bed each morning, it is very easy for me to get dressed. I always wear t-shirts and they are always in a big, messy lump of clothes at the foot of my bed. My clean clothes pile is much different then my dirty clothes pile, because it is much smaller and closer to my hand when I sit on the edge of my bed.
One of the absolute worst parts about being one of my t-shirts is that I am, unfortunately, a giant fat computer nerd. This puts something of a nasty strain on my t-shirts everyday, and everyday they have to be stretched out of shape. Yeah, I put on some weight over the course of the last year. Does that mean I stop wearing my t-shirts I bought a year ago? No sir! They get the stretch-treatment.
Once you're completely stretched out of shape, you are then smoothed over with my hands...as if that ever has worked to get wrinkled out of t-shirts. You then get to enjoy breakfast with me, as it is almost certain that you will have part of it dropped down onto you. You'll be marked with a dark grease spot for the rest of the day, and I really won't care that much at all.
T-shirts are always going to serve one major use, and that is to hide my body from the ever-lustful eyes of chubby-chasers everywhere. A secondary, less-known role you may serve as my t-shirt is one of sanitation. This is a super-important aspect of your existence as my shirt, because I REALLY hate getting stuff on my hands. It would be a waste of your absorbency not to wipe my hands off on you.
Depending on the severity of your appearance, you may end up going back into the "clean" clothes mound at the bottom of my bed. It is entirely possible that you did not suffer too many noticeable stains and can be worn again the next day. If this is so, then you are one of the lucky t-shirts. The unlucky t-shirts must go...to the wash.
Your experience in the washing machine with the other dirty t-shirts is not a pleasant one. I have learned a long time ago that it takes really hot water to get out most food stains, so you are punished severely for my sloppiness. You will most likely shrink, but your ritual morning-stretching will return you to the appropriate shape and size.
Let us all hope for your sake that people never get reincarnated into inanimate objects. Most people are good, but a few may be awful enough to be sent back to earth as one of the t-shirts belonging to a socially awkward, disorganized, fat nerd.
When I drag my pitiable body out of bed each morning, it is very easy for me to get dressed. I always wear t-shirts and they are always in a big, messy lump of clothes at the foot of my bed. My clean clothes pile is much different then my dirty clothes pile, because it is much smaller and closer to my hand when I sit on the edge of my bed.
One of the absolute worst parts about being one of my t-shirts is that I am, unfortunately, a giant fat computer nerd. This puts something of a nasty strain on my t-shirts everyday, and everyday they have to be stretched out of shape. Yeah, I put on some weight over the course of the last year. Does that mean I stop wearing my t-shirts I bought a year ago? No sir! They get the stretch-treatment.
Once you're completely stretched out of shape, you are then smoothed over with my hands...as if that ever has worked to get wrinkled out of t-shirts. You then get to enjoy breakfast with me, as it is almost certain that you will have part of it dropped down onto you. You'll be marked with a dark grease spot for the rest of the day, and I really won't care that much at all.
T-shirts are always going to serve one major use, and that is to hide my body from the ever-lustful eyes of chubby-chasers everywhere. A secondary, less-known role you may serve as my t-shirt is one of sanitation. This is a super-important aspect of your existence as my shirt, because I REALLY hate getting stuff on my hands. It would be a waste of your absorbency not to wipe my hands off on you.
Depending on the severity of your appearance, you may end up going back into the "clean" clothes mound at the bottom of my bed. It is entirely possible that you did not suffer too many noticeable stains and can be worn again the next day. If this is so, then you are one of the lucky t-shirts. The unlucky t-shirts must go...to the wash.
Your experience in the washing machine with the other dirty t-shirts is not a pleasant one. I have learned a long time ago that it takes really hot water to get out most food stains, so you are punished severely for my sloppiness. You will most likely shrink, but your ritual morning-stretching will return you to the appropriate shape and size.
Let us all hope for your sake that people never get reincarnated into inanimate objects. Most people are good, but a few may be awful enough to be sent back to earth as one of the t-shirts belonging to a socially awkward, disorganized, fat nerd.
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