Charlie Hatton About This
About Me
Email Me

Bookmark
 FeedBurnerEmailTwitterFacebookAmazon
Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA



All Quotes
HomeAboutArchiveBestShopEmail

  |  

Howdy, friendly reading person!
I'm on a bit of a hiatus right now, but only to work on other projects -- one incredibly exciting example being the newly-released kids' science book series Things That Make You Go Yuck!
If you're a science and/or silliness fan, give it a gander! See you soon!

That’s Mister Stinkypants to You

Sometimes, my douchebaggery knows no bounds. Often, like today, little morsels of witlessness layer over each other, like a big fat dogpile of douchebagginess. To wit:

On Monday afternoon, I started a load of laundry, mostly colored rugbies and tees and such. I was very proud of myself, for helping out around the house like a big boy. I even treated myself to a cookie. And there was much rejoicing.

On Wednesday evening, I realized that I hadn’t actually transferred said laundry to the dryer. Upon further investigation, I found the clothes to be sitting — nay, soaking in eight inches or so of two-day-old water in the bottom of the washer. Douchebag move number one. Oops.

I then proceeded — as any clueless, brutish, non-metrosexual man might — to cover my mistake by (finally) loading the laundry into the dryer. I’ve had the standing water problem with the washer before, and found that slopping the mess into the dryer is always the easiest thing to do.

(No, I didn’t say the ‘best’, nor the ‘brightest’, nor even the most ‘energy-efficient’. I said easiest. See section on ‘clueless’, ‘brutish’, and ‘non-metrosexual’ above. And maybe add ‘slack-jawed’, for good measure.)

So, two douchebag moves down, one to go. This morning, I scooped up the ‘clean’ laundry, looking for a rugby to wear to work.

(Again, see ‘non-metrosexual’, if you have any questions here. ‘Clothes horse’, Charlie ain’t.)

I slipped one of my favorites over my head… and nearly passed out from the smell. Apparently — surprise, surprise! — festering in dirty funk water for two days is bad for clothes. It turns out that laundry can ‘sour‘ — which my mother told me about, but I thought it was just an old wives’ tale to make me clean up around the house more often. You know, like ‘pet dander’, or ‘dust bunnies’, or ‘plague rats’.

Anyway, I managed to get the shirt off without actually losing consciousness… and tried another one. Yes, from the same clothes basket. Look, at nine o’clock in the morning, the old brain doesn’t work too well. I hadn’t quite pieced together the chain of douchetasticness yet; I thought maybe the dog had, I don’t know, died on the first shirt overnight. In the middle of some sort of ammonia-induced bowel movement, apparently. But when the second shirt offended as well, I amended my theory. After all, we’ve only got one dog.

So, I pitched all of the rugbies from that load into the dirty clothes pile, in an effort not to continue down the path of douchebagitude. I chose a shirt from the closet — yes, I do occasionally hang a shirt up, ladies — and I was in the clear.

Or so I thought.

Next — no, really, like right away — I slipped on a pair of jeans. From the basket. Same one I’d just purged the shirts from. And, since I didn’t actually pull the pants over my head, I didn’t notice that they were funk-afflicted, too.

(See, if I’d been up at eight, instead of nine, I might have accidentally pulled them over my face, trying to put them on. I’m telling you — the brain, she don’t wake up so early. In this particular case, a little less lucidity might have helped. Looks like a case of ‘dumbed if you do, dumbed if you don’t’. Bitches.)

It wasn’t until I got into the car — bringing my knees significantly closer to my schnozz — that I realized my pants smelled like ass all over. I suppose that there’s always a small portion of my pants that smells like ass — specifically, my ass. But since that part of the pants is actually next to my ass — and because I’m not a fricking contortionist carny freak — I don’t ever worry too much about that little bit, or even know about it. And, since I don’t often get — or give, for that matter — fully-comprehensive lap dances from ankle to waist, the rest of my pants are generally ass-smell-free.

(Of course, if my pants were to be ‘assed up’ by an all-over lap dance, they still wouldn’t smell like ass, right? Vanilla body spray, maybe. Glitter paint, perhaps. Stripper sweat… hopefully. But not ass. Those ladies keep a thick sheen of parfum and baby oil between themselves and their ‘rubbees’ at all times.

From, um, what I hear. Ahem. Moving on.)

So, long story ever-so-slightly-shorter, I’m now tooling around the office in a pair of jeans that smell like they’ve been bleached in buttermilk and passed through a moose. I’m not saying which direction they were passed through the moose — but I’m not sure either way is ‘good‘. Moose ass then moose breath, or moose breath then moose ass; which would you choose? These are questions that haunt us all.

And, of course, I’ve been in two meetings so far, with another two on tap. Of all the days I’d prefer to hide from the world and wallow in the stench of my pants, and it’s chock full of interacting with others. What’s next? Is it ‘Sniff Your Neighbor’s Knees Day‘ today? ‘Everybody Trade Pants Day‘ at the office? ‘Lick-A-Thigh Promotion Night‘ at the ball park? Meh. Me and my stinky pants are out of here.

Permalink  |  7 Comments



7 Responses to “That’s Mister Stinkypants to You”

  1. Jerry says:

    I have almost no sense of smell. I hate it when someone enters a room and announces, “Something stinks in here”. I always think, “Is it me?”

    Great post, BTW.

  2. Nhytefall says:

    Charlie, I feel your pain, man, I have also been a victim of the evil washing machine with its plans of clothes ruination. You know what helps cover that funky smell? Cologne, lots and lots of cologne… :) Enjoy your day.

    BTW: Thanks for the linkage!

  3. JEP says:

    You haven’t lived until you’ve accidentally dropped an entire bottle of bleach into an overstuffed washing machine, transforming your entire work wardrobe into tie-die chic.

  4. JEP says:

    You haven’t lived until you’ve accidentally dropped an entire bottle of bleach into an overstuffed washing machine, transforming your entire work wardrobe into tie-die chic.

  5. JEP says:

    Shit. I do that a lot on ZUG too.

  6. Cindy says:

    Nope, I was wrong, this is the funniest! I love your stories, you crack me up.

  7. Poop says:

    I pick my nose,

    I pick my ass,

    I smell my fingers,

    Then I lick ’em.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

HomeAboutArchiveBestShopEmail © 2003-15 Charlie Hatton All Rights Reserved
Highlights
Me on Film 'n' Stage:
  Drinkstorm Studios


Me on Science (silly):
  Secondhand SCIENCE


Me on Science (real):
  Meta Science News


Me on ZuG (RIP):
  Zolton's FB Pranks
  Zolton Does Amazon


Favorite Posts:
30 Facts: Alton Brown
A Commute Dreary
A Hallmark Moment
Blue's Clues Explained
Eight Your 5-Hole?
El Classo de Espanol
Good News for Goofballs
Grammar, Charlie-Style
Grammar, Revisitated
How I Feel About Hippos
How I Feel About Pinatas
How I Feel About Pirates
Life Is Like...
Life Is Also Like...
Smartass 101
Twelve Simple Rules
Unreal Reality Shows
V-Day for Dummies
Wheel of Misfortune
Zolton, Interview Demon

Me, Elsewhere

Features
Standup Comedy Clips

Selected Clips:
  09/10/05: Com. Studio
  04/30/05: Goodfellaz
  04/09/05: Com. Studio
  01/28/05: Com. Studio
  12/11/04: Emerald Isle
  09/06/04: Connection

Boston Comedy Clubs

 My 100 Things Posts

Selected Things:
  #6: My Stitches
  #7: My Name
  #11: My Spelling Bee
  #35: My Spring Break
  #36: My Skydives
  #53: My Memory
  #55: My Quote
  #78: My Pencil
  #91: My Family
  #100: My Poor Knee

More Features:

List of Lists
33 Faces of Me
Cliche-O-Matic
Punchline Fever
Simpsons Quotes
Quantum Terminology

Favorites
Banterist
...Bleeding Obvious
By Ken Levine
Defective Yeti
DeJENNerate
Divorced Dad of Two
Gallivanting Monkey
Junk Drawer
Life... Weirder
Little. Red. Boat.
Mighty Geek
Mitchieville
PCPPP
Scaryduck
Scott's Tip of the Day
Something Authorly
TGNP
Unlikely Explanations

Archives
Full Archive

Category Archives:

(Stupid) Computers
100Things
A Doofus Is Me
Articles 'n' Zines
Audience Participation
Awkward Conversations
Bits About Blogging
Bitter Old Man Rants
Blasts from My Past
Cars 'n' Drivers
Dog Drivel
Eek!Cards
Foodstuff Fluff
Fun with Words!
Googlicious!
Grooming Gaffes
Just Life
Loopy Lists
Making Fun of Jerks
Marketing Weenies
Married and a Moron
Miscellaneous Nonsense
Potty Talk / Yes, I'm a Pig
Sleep, and Lack Thereof
Standup
Tales from the Stage
Tasty Beverages
The Happy Homeowner
TV & Movies & Games, O My!
Uncategorized
Vacations 'n' Holidays
Weird for the Sake of Weird
Whither the Weather
Wicked Pissah Bahstan
Wide World o' Sports
Work, Work, Work
Zug

Heroes
Alas Smith and Jones
Berkeley Breathed
Bill Hicks
Dave Barry
Dexter's Laboratory
Douglas Adams
Evening at the Improv
Fawlty Towers
George Alec Effinger
Grover
Jake Johannsen
Married... With Children
Monty Python
Nick Bakay
Peter King
Ren and Stimpy
Rob Neyer
Sluggy Freelance
The Simpsons
The State

Plugs, Shameless
100 Best Humor Blogs | Healthy Moms Magazine

Alltop, confirmation that I kick ass

TopOfBlogs

HumorSource

Blogging Fusion Blog Directory

bloglovin

Top Blogs

 

Feeds and More
Subscribe via FeedBurner

[Subscribe]

RDF
RSS 2.0
Atom
Credits
Site Hosting:
Solid Solutions

Powered by:
MovableType

Title Banner Photo:
Shirley Harshenin

Creative Commons License
  This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons License

Mint Installation

Performancing Metrics

Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

Valid XHTML 1.0

Valid CSS!

© 2003-15 Charlie Hatton
All Rights Reserved