So, I have this panda blanket. It’s absolutely lovely — made of thick fleece, and big enough to mummify myself in, in shades of black, white, tan, and gold. There are three pandas on it, and they’re all having this big cuddlefest that makes you want to have your own cuddlefest under it.
But those fucking pandas are sneaky little assmunchers.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve lost something black on that blanket, because it was invisble on top of a panda ear or arm. The sheer panic of thinking I’ve lost something really important, because I’ve looked everywhere for it and couldn’t find it. I hate those moments, because I inevitably feel really fucking stupid for not seeing the thing right there, right in front of my face.
And then, the pandas decided that they were not satisfied with only stealing my shit so they can watch me completely flip my gourd. No, then they decide that a two-for-one deal is on the menu, and make off with Alex’s wallet. The fuzzy little assholes were killing themselves laughing as he and I searched all over the place for it when it was time for him to go home.
Luckily, I know what’ll make ’em shut up and behave (at least for a while): the washing machine.
So take that, you fluffy fucking sadists.
I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.