Get up, come on, get down with the sickness

Remember how the other day the daughter produced a whopper of a poop in her carseat on the way home (along with the spilled milkshake and accompanying craziness?). Well I neglected to mention that earlier that morning she had also puked her guts up on our bed after having her morning milk. These two signs together indicated the beginning stages of what is pretty much the worst thing ever:

A GOD-AWFUL EVIL SON-OF-A-BITCHIN' STOMACH VIRUS

Things weren't super bad yesterday, just very watery poops that smelled like some heinous cross between rotten eggs and decaying roadkill. But then, this morning, two things happened:

1. The wife woke up also feeling sick. Oh. shit.
2. I walked to the daughter's room to get her up out of her crib, and upon opening the door got a whiff of quite possibly the most noxious combination of human-produced odors I have ever encountered. OH. SHIT. AND PUKE. EVERYWHERE...

Needless to say all the kid's clothes got ripped off again and the blankets, sheet, bumpers, etc. got ripped out of the crib. Straight to bath time, put her back in the pajamas, begin the task of getting all sorts of poop-and-puke-ified items run through the laundry.

Then made the incredibly stupid mistake of giving her the normal morning bottle of milk, which she drank ravenously. And then she also puked ravenously. Add to the wash list the fitted sheet and mattress pad from our bed, the towel that I had sat her upon (but which she managed to miss almost completely, not exactly a world class marksman when it comes to projectile vomiting). Oh yeah, and my boxer shorts. It seems they are really quite absorbent. Who knew?

I called and scheduled a sick visit to the doctor's office for her and got from the doctor information that I basically already knew: nasty bastard asshole stomach virus, do the normal stuff to prevent dehydration. Kind of a waste, but with the whole cancer thing going on in the background figured it's best not to take chances.

And then the rest of the day was a glorious mix of caring for the two respective sickies - the daughter & her mommy. I did manage to mix in some quality playing time on Epic Mickey when both of them took a nap - excellent, highly recommended Wii game.

Now it's off to bed, hoping that no horrendous puke-poop messes greet me in the morning from the daughter or the wife...and especially not from myself...

An open letter to the manufacturers of women's clothing

Dear manufacturers of women's clothing:

STOP BEING A BUNCH OF DICKS!

I am a man, and (unlike perhaps some men out there, not naming names, only winking suggestively) the only clothes that I own are men's clothes. When I wash my clothes, I do exactly the following things:

1. Pile as many items as possible into the washing machine.
2. Close lid and put in detergent.
3. Set the cycle and turn on the washing machine.
4. Once washing machine is finished, transfer pile of wet clothes into dryer.
5. Empty lint filter so I don't set the goddamn house on fire, set dryer cycle, turn on dryer.

Unfortunately, on those occasions when I have to wash my wife's clothes (which is pretty often as she goes to a job 5 days a week that requires specific garments which must thus constantly be washed) there is a whole new set of steps inserted into the middle of this relatively simple routine.

Apparently you, the makers of women's clothes, are a bunch of dicks who have nothing better to do than to fuck with me (and anyone else unfortunate enough to ever have to wash women's clothes) by coming up with all sorts of unnecessary added instructions when it comes time to dry said clothes. Those three glorious words, "tumble dry low," that I find on every garment of mine are apparently not in your evil heartless vocabulary. Instead you decide to hit me with shit like:

"Dry flat"
"Reshape and dry flat"
"Hang to dry"

or my personal favorites:

"Tumble dry low until damp, then remove and dry flat"
"Hang on northward-facing clothesline for precisely 22 minutes 33 seconds, then turn on a spit next to an open fire built of knotty pine logs until dry"

OK, maybe I made that last one up, but the one before it is 100% real. And you know what? It's not happening. I'm sorry, 25 dollar Target hooded sweatshirt with various bedazzled adornments, but go fuck yourself if you think I'm hanging out by the dryer to check every 5 minutes to determine when you are "damp" so I can take you out and lay you on top of something in order to finish drying. I'm sorry but I'm pretty busy making sure my 15 month old doesn't consume any change that fell out of my pocket, find a way to gouge her eyes out with a Mickey Mouse figurine, or order a Playboy TV movie on demand by pressing random buttons on the remote control.

Seriously, women's clothing manufacturers, enough with this already. I know these garments are not made out of some fancy space age shit that requires truly delicate care. If "tumble dry low" is good enough for all the cotton / poly blends in my own wardrobe, surely it must be for any that are worn by my wife. You're not fooling anybody into believing this stuff is somehow expensive and exotic because it has "special care" instructions. You're just being assholes and making the washer to dryer clothing transition far more difficult than it needs to be.

So please, I implore you, STOP BEING A BUNCH OF DICKS. "Tumble dry low." Say it with me. "Tumble dry low."

Sincerely,

Joe