skank-o-mat
After happy hour on Thursday — from which my bartender was suspiciously absent, harrumph — I decided it was Time. Yes, it was Time for Laundry, especially since I had Big Weekend Plans that required me being clothed. Instead of heading to the Omygodmyretinas-o-mat, thusly named for the blinding white decor, I decided to try out the darker, more modest establishment nearer to my flat. I threw two loads of black clothes into a hamper and headed that way. I would soon have my introduction to the Skank-o-mat. The first warning sign was the bald woman in the white hatchback parked next to me. She kept staring at me as I fumbled with my hamper, the detergent, and my shiny purple plastic purse of quarters. Her dog, the standard result of one of...
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Like Lunesse, who pointed this out to me on the front page of SFGate.com, I sure do love a good typo:
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The cam was last on Friday, May 4.
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I am Halsted, a/k/a cygnoir, and I do stuff with words.
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