Currently listening to:Hello by Martin Solveig & Dragonette
Status:SO. AWAKE. CAFFEINE. HELLO!! OH-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH~~
Okay hahah um. Im sorry but i completely forgot about the epic dishwasher incident i promised to update about till a reader reminded me yesterday, so here goes! There aren’t any photos cos they’re with George, i do have a video but I’m not uploading it because it was embarrassing.
ANYWAY. So well into the second week of my New York trip in the summer, G and I were just doing normal 2 am stuff ie. rolling around on the carpet watching Veronica Mars and eating ben and jerrys and watching more movies for hours (we tended to do this till sunrise, then crash and wake up sometime the next afternoon)
Around 5am G got overcome by this domesticated-woman instinct and decided to go do the dishes with her new dishwasher.
I need to point out at this point that she had never used the dishwasher before and somehow she decided that 5am would be the best time to try this out for the first time.
Approx 5.15am: I was in the middle of Aladdin when i heard G start screaming for me to come to the kitchen.
Assumed she was going to bust me for not keeping the teacups or whatever so i continued watching Aladdin.
Approx 5:17am: she REALLY started screaming for me to come and help her so i went over and
jeng jeng jeng JENNGGGG
IT WAS VOMITING BUBBLES FASTER THAN WE COULD COUNT. WE WERE UP TO OUR ANKLES IN BUBBLES AND SOAP AND WARM WATER
AND IT WOULDNT STOP. WE TURNED IT OFF, STARTED FIDDLING WITH THE KNOBS, SCREAMED AT IT, TRIED TO CLOSE IT, BUT THE BUBBLES JUST KEPT COMING. IT WAS HORRIBLE.
this shit happens to no one i swear.
With no other choice, G and I got on our knees and started scooping bubbles into the sink. BUT THEY JUST KEPT FREAKING MULTIPLYING IT WAS LIKE THE DISHWASHER WAS GIVING BIRTH TO EVIL BUBBLE SPAWN. SPAWN.
It was a nightmare. I kept muttering to myself this can’t be happening i am on some sort of live reality gag tv show two girls living alone in an apartment in new york and the dishwasher starts giving birth to bubbles like some sort of crazy possessed bitch HOW CLICHE CAN YOU GET
oh this might also be a good time to point out that there was no drainage system in the kitchen. i guess the architects in new york don’t expect people to flood their kitchens.
Within the first ten minutes all towels and cloths in the house were soaked through and dripping wet so we started scooping bubbles up with plastic bags, cupboard boxes, (she just moved in so no mop) and finally toilet paper.
Some time around 6am when we had been scooping up bubbles for an hour, G finally snapped.
She changed into her new victoria secret bikini and started splashing around and attacking me with the bubbles.
(ok i know i forgot to draw my own clothes on, but its 2 AM GIVE ME A BREAK i am really sleepy now and anyway i was in an old t-shirt and fbts)
so in addition to scooping bubbles and trying to squish the dishwasher which was still spewing bubbles one hour later, i had this really hyperactive insane girl on my hands who couldnt stop giggling and kicking the bubbles. (she was still cleaning up, just.. you know. also throwing bubbles around.)
and then the worst possible thing ever happened.
we had reached our last roll of toilet paper. this meant:
1. we had no more absorbent objects to soak up the water which was still cheerfully swooshing around in the kitchen
2. if any of us needed to take a shit, well, we had better hold it in till the duane reade downstairs opened.
it was then that i had the best brainstorm of my life which up till this day i’m still rather proud of.
Me: “G, do you keep pads in this house?”
G: “Are you having your period? I have tampons!”
Me: “no! pads! we need those!! don’t you watch advertisements? they have amazing absorbing power.
It was like a flow of pure inspirational understanding hit us like electricity at the same time.
She ran to the toilet to get this bag of (american brand, i don’t remember it’s name) pads and we both unwrapped a few, put it on the floor, and waited, watching with held breaths.
It was a magical moment.
Even the psycho bitch of a dishwasher was sort of cowed into submission and started leaking water rather tamely instead of mass assaulting us with bubbles.
The five or six pads we scattered across the kitchen floor just soaked everything up until the kitchen was dampish enough (as opposed to, you know, flooded) for us to just wipe it up with the last roll of toilet paper. It was awe inspiring.
ok after that we ordered a cheeseburger and open faced grilled sandwich and fell asleep on the carpet. Delivery joints in new york are pretty much 24 hours and cleaning up a whole kitchen is exhausting.
This was the day before (or morning of, depending on how you look at it) our road trip to New Jersey. Needless to say we woke up late and had to rush down.
Moral of the story: i don’t really know. but it was hilarious on hindsight.
ok wait i got it.
1. buy pads, not tampons.
2. dont do housework.
i miss you, G!