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My Underwear are Burning Down The House

What a powerful statement, right? I WISH.

My underwear are cotton boy-shorts from Target and hold zero sex appeal. So while the statement may not be powerful or sexy, it’s still ALMOST true.

Friday night I stayed home and did my laundry. That’s what happens without the power of pretty panties; no one wants to date me. Instead I watched “Dollhouse” while wearing said underwear and my Vanilla Ice concert shirt.

During a commercial break I walked upstairs to grab something and noticed this:

Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that a house fire? I completely panicked.

I ran downstairs, grabbed Daisy and headed outside. Once we got out there I realized, um, it’s winter, cold as balls and I don’t have any pants on. I also noticed that nothing smelled like smoke. The air smelled warm and cuddly, kinda like the load of white shirts, socks and underwear in the dryer.

Oh.

Yeah.

That’s right… the dryer is vented outside. My house wasn’t burning down after all. Thank god, because I really wanted to watch the end of “Dollhouse.’

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