A journey to San Francisco to become no less than Me. (BLOG REBOOT: Former site of Hairy Legs.)

This is the T-shirt I'm wearing today.  Except mine's a little more hardcore.  I'd post a pic of myself wearing it, but my camera's still broken.

This is the T-shirt I'm wearing today. Except mine's a little more hardcore. I'd post a pic of myself wearing it, but my camera's still broken.

Mr. Clean was always pretty badass, huh?  The only other person who could rock that polished doorknob haircut as hard as Mr. Clean was Morpheus, and you can bet those weren’t the only doorknobs that were getting polished on them.

…Now that I’m done making awkward innuendo about bald guys, I’ll get to the point.  Today I’m called upon to do some serious cleaning of my seriously messy bedroom and bathroom, because my stepmom’s going into hip surgery and we may have some relatives coming and visiting and/or living with us for a while.  I’m taking advantage of being forced into cleaning by pretending it was my idea and going through all of my old clothes and the girly things that have been hanging around by virtue of bad Christmas gift that I didn’t have the guts to throw out.  I now have those guts, as well as some balls, and the gall, and every other body part I need to do things I would not once have done.  It’s finally time to get rid of the things I seriously will never use again.

It feels like a good time to do this, because I’m no longer bouncing between wearing girl stuff in polite company and guy stuff when I feel like it.  I now “feel like it” 100% of the time and the idea of putting on anything frilly, pink or skirtlike is laughably beyond reason.

Maybe I’ll have a yard sale…

I wish I could make a vlog about this.  It’d actually probably be pretty funny for you to see the state of my room and me going through it.  It’s seriously a wreck.  This last weekend I had a kind of a party while the ‘rents were gone (again) and I wound up flinging a mattress and various paraphernalia into my room when I heard them coming up the drive a day earlier than I thought they would.  So on top of the usual squalor and chaos, the mattresses and broken closet doors and other various things create a series of tilty, jaunty planes that made me wake up in the night last night thinking I was inside an Escher painting.  Seriously.

(But at least that’s better than the apocalyptical dream I had night before last that God decided to destroy the world because it had too much Nathan Lane in it.  It gives me the shudders.)

I digress.  Today, I cut through my past with a sharpened sword and excise the filth and scum that is no longer of use to me.

(For some reason I picture that line being read with the voice of Sir Alec Guinness.)


Comments on: "Today, I am Mr. Clean!" (6)

  1. -_- I had to liquidate half our wardrobe once. Nobody else would do it, and you have no idea how many times I had to fight through things like, “But I got that XXL tie-dye shirt that I never wear from a garage sale for fifty cents! You CAN’T get rid of it!” or, “But my PREDECESSOR owned that pair of jeans with the torn knees and cow manure stains!”

    I hope I never have to undertake such a herculean task again.


  2. Oh really? Mr. Clean is a soap right? I never thought Mr. Clean has a blog.

    • joaquinjack said:


      This actually came through my spam queue, but it made me chuckle so I decided to approve it anyway.

  3. joaquinjack said:

    Ha, yeah, it does tend to happen that, with multiple systems, one physical body winds up owning like three times more than a typical person would. I kept finding random leathery and black things hidden in my room back when Jack was very young. I still have no idea how most of them ended up there. None of my money was ever really missing from my wallet, so it makes me wonder…

    • We try to keep our clutter to a minimum, and I think we manage to do a half-decent job, if only because our funds don’t allow us to buy a pair of shoes for everyone. We haven’t figured out what to do once we DO have the money for it though.

      And I don’t care what Miranda says. Those jeans were fucking awesome.


      • Those jeans were hideous and crimes against nature. I should be ashamed to share a room with them.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Tag Cloud

%d bloggers like this: