NOT My Acceptance Speech for Gutbloom’s Awesome Mede Ceremony

(I know, I know…. I have the patience of a white girl waiting on her iced, venti, half-caff, light ice, three pump, whip but no drizzle, caramel frappucino)

KrisCross
KrisCross
Jul 21, 2017 · 3 min read

Did I mention I used to work at Starbucks? I sure as hell did, and that wasn’t my drink but damn close. And you should probably stop now and click here to read my honest resume. It’s HILARIOUS (it’s only funny if it’s true, or say the saying goes).

Anyway, I’ve driven myself positively crazy trying decide what to wear for this fancy-schmancy ceremony, and you should know that right now I’m donning a neon-magenta, ratty ol’ Victoria Secret nightie and sitting on my back porch drinking a whiskey. I have a tiny hint of a beer-belly and it’s only 5:09pm. On this warm summer eve, whilst I have the house to myself, I thought, This is the perfect time to thank…hmm…someone for this most honorable distinction of writing the most ridiculous (best?) story about a laundromat despot. It was either this or watching my ice cubes melt. So, here goes…

First, I want to thank the laundromat despot herself. I hope she has long since retired from the laundromat and now owns a chain of laundromats that allow her to spend her days tooling around Mykonos or some other idyllic island with a hot cabana boy who serves her the best pina colodas and rubs her old, tired, gnarly feet. I bet she still smells like clean laundry and hair grease, bless her heart.

My ex, the stoner, too, deserves a heart-felt and slightly sarcastic “thank you.” If he’d been a better marijuana grower, we would’ve had our own washing machine and dryer and no good story to tell. The laudromat was good for me. Truly, it was a character-building experience, and to all those who bitch about how they have eleventy billions loads of laudry to do, Drive your to ass to the laudromat and do all that shit at once! Talk about a time-saver. (Real life lessons right here, people.) I must also thank the stoner for calling Miss Cleo and all his other shenanigans which I’ve delighted in writing about all these years later. Humor is cathartic and I can’t live without it.

And last but not least, I must thank my mother who was the heroine of the story. She is sweet as pie but takes no shit. She is the also the best indian leg wrestler south of the Mason-Dixon line and super competitive so you’ve been warned. Don’t let her Gap-model good looks fool you…she’ll poke out your eye in fucking a heartbeat. Thanks, Mom, for always having my back and not calling me a loser even when I was one!

It’s a good world indeed when I, a mere pleb such as myself, can win $500 Mildew bucks, a goody bag, and order herself a statue on Amazon for a story about almost losing five dollars and fifty cents in a police-controlled laundromat dispute.

Yep, that’s right… Gutbloom has already mailed me my goody bag, and I can just feel your envy. What’s in it? I’ll never tell. Well, after a few more whiskeys maybe I will. Yeah, I definitely will on August 1st. No, actually later tonight…stay tuned.

P.S. I’m sorry for jumping the gun, Gutbloom. Aside from being impatient, I’m also not much of a rule follower.

P.P.S If you’re not following Gutbloom on here, you’re really missing out. His stories make me spit out my coffee (or whatever else I happen to be drinking).


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KrisCross

Written by

KrisCross

Constantly baffled.

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