Family Dinner Fiasco: Comedy AND Tragedy in 3 Short Funny Acts

So then…I’m literally so excited about this lasagna I’m making, I text a photo to show the family how amazing dinner’s going to be!

Just as I slide my HOMEMADE lasagna out, it shatters in a million pieces and triggers a family fiasco! #funny #dinner #lasagna #humor

LOOK! Warm and delicious homemade food! Yahoo!

Everyone has a generous helping and agrees it’s scrumptious — and I’m even more excited that we’ll have leftovers for the next night! Double Yahoo! No cooking! Just heating up! I’m a fabulous heater-upper!

So the next night, I’m in my home office when my daughter Chloe, age 15, texts me from the dining room to ask, “Will you please rub my back while I’m doing homework?”

Now before you accuse me of potentially spoiling my daughter, I can assure you, she’s ALREADY spoiled! That train left the station a long time ago, my friends. As I’ve mentioned, I’d be a much better mother if I had 6 kids like my pal, but I only have 2, so I spoil them 3 times as much.

Besides, Chloe may be a bit spoiled, but she’s also pretty awesome, loving, funny, smart, and helpful.

And she handles her academic career completely on her own – and makes A’s – so if you give me a choice between actually helping her DO the Chemistry homework vs. just rubbing her back a few minutes while SHE does the Chemistry homework – I think you can guess what this mama’d rather do.

So I text “Sure,” then walk through the kitchen, figuring I’ll take the luscious lasagna out of the fridge on my way to the dining room.

But just as I pull the tray out, it pings the side of the fridge, DROPS

and SHATTERS INTO A MILLION PIECES –

ONTO MY BELOVED WOOD FLOOR!

Just as I slide my HOMEMADE lasagna out, it shatters in a million pieces and triggers a family fiasco! #funny #dinner #lasagna #humor

I’m devastated!

I don’t know what’s more distressing:

The loss of our delicious home-cooked meal –
The loss of my favorite glass serving dish –
The marks on my cherished wood floor –
Or
The fact I now have to SWEEP.

I glance desperately at the lasagna on the ground. 5 second rule? Can I just scoop it up quickly? “Hey, family, just eat around the glass shards!”

I huff and puff, stomping off to retrieve the broom and dustpan – colorful profanities spewing in my wake.

Just as I round the corner back into the kitchen — I hear a click, a giggle, and the tiny pitter-patter of footsteps fleeing the scene.

“CHLOE! Did you just take a PICTURE of my floor lasagna!?!?!”

From the other room: *Giggle* “No, Mom, what’re you talking about?”

“CHLOE! Are you texting and Tweeting and Instagramming this!?!”

From the other room: *Snort Giggle* “No! Of course not!”

“OMIGOD, CHLOE, THIS IS NOT FUNNY!”

From the other room: *Muffled laughter* “I know, I know. Do you need any *laugh* help?”

“NO! Just stay there. You’ll just cut up your feet and then I’ll have to take you to the hospital!” I say, in my Angry Martyr voice. Far better for me to clean this up myself — and make everyone else feel guilty about it.

Of course, I DO see the humor in it, so naturally, I snap a pic and post it on Facebook to generate some sympathy. Several people post compassionate words and similar mishaps — and my cyber-buddy Don Re posts, “The lasagna looks a bit dry anyway. Is that helpful?” And perversely enough, that DOES make me feel better.

But now I have nothing to serve for dinner and I want someone to deliver some GOTT-DAMN homemade lasagna to my front door!

Just then I get a text from Chloe saying, “Um…about that back rub…?”

I text back, “Too soon! Give me a minute to mourn, for God’s sake!”

So she texts me this:

Just as I slide my HOMEMADE lasagna out, it shatters in a million pieces and triggers a family fiasco! #funny #dinner #card #humor

What a wise ass.

I head to the kitchen and holler, “I don’t have time for backrubs! Now I have to MAKE DINNER!”

We don’t have much in the way of ingredients, so I whip this together:

Just as I slide my HOMEMADE lasagna out, it shatters in a million pieces and triggers a family fiasco! #funny #dinner #Elvis #humor

Inspired Brilliance – or a Cry for Help?

(I actually ate this the other day and IT.WAS.DEEE-LICIOUS.)

I’m definitely making these for my Dinner with Elvis in the After Life. I’ll be like, “Look, El, peanut butter and banana sandwiches are so 1969. The kids today are rockin’ it with Candy Corn.” I know he’ll dig it.

Meanwhile, the mere mortals down here are none too impressed.

So I stuff some ham and cheese in those little crescent rolls and call it a day.

Just as I slide my HOMEMADE lasagna out, it shatters in a million pieces and triggers a family fiasco! #funny #dinner #rolls #humor

As for Mama — this is MY dinner:

Just as I slide my HOMEMADE lasagna out, it shatters in a million pieces and triggers a family fiasco! #funny #dinner #icecream #humor

And well-deserved, if I do say so myself.

— Darcy Perdu
(She of many skills, but much maligned for her comical cooking incompetence.)

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(Any kitchen mishaps to make me feel better about mine? What else pairs nicely with peanut butter? What dishes will you cook with YOUR fave celebs & historical figures in the After Life?)

Just as I slide my HOMEMADE lasagna out, it shatters in a million pieces and triggers a family fiasco! #funny #dinner #comedy #tragedy #humor

Five Stages of Christmas Shopping – Can You Relate?

5 Stages of Christmas Shopping - can you relate?  #funny #Christmas #shopping #humor

So then…I shout, “No! NO, Christmas, ya ain’t gonna get me this time!”

I shall plan.  I shall prepare.  I shall make lists and check them twice!

I shall start early and avoid the holiday rush and stress.

I shall spend hours to concentrate fiercely on each loved one’s hobbies, tastes, and preferences to concoct the most personalized gift imaginable for that individual.

I shall bargain hunt, conduct online research — and judiciously analyze each item before purchasing!  Is it the right size, style, color, brand, aura for this particular person?

I shall craft unique homemade gifts for those closest to my heart.

I shall lovingly wrap each gift in luscious Christmas wrap with coordinating bows and calligraphized gift tags…

Aw, forget it.  Where are the gift cards?

— Darcy Perdu

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(‘Fess up – are YOU the one who’s completed all your Christmas shopping in a calm, organized, cost-efficient manner well before the holiday arrives?  Or are you the last-minute wild-eyed desperate shopper grabbing anything that looks REMOTELY like a gift and shoving it in your cart as you dash through the mall?)

5 Stages of Shopping (Christmas) 333 x 500

 

Raising My Daughter to be a Stripper?

Raising My Daughter to be a Stripper?  Um...well...um.  #funny #strippers #shaving #humor

So then…I click the blinker, just as my daughter Chloe, age 15, says, “You remember how you taught me to shave my legs – the calves and thighs?”

I turn the steering wheel right, continue up the hill, and answer, “Yeah.”

“Well, my friends Maggie and Layla just shave from the knees down. They say only strippers shave their thighs.”

My eyes pop. Really?

I’ve always shaved my thighs.

Am I secretly a stripper?

Maybe I have that sleepwalking disease where I don’t even know that I’m waking in the middle of the night to go shake my tatas at the local strip club.

If so, where’s all that cash I should be making?

I frown.

Maybe I’m not a very good stripper.

Maybe I’m shakin’ mah groove thing and people are all like, “Yeah, um, nice thighs…but uh, the rest is…well…do you have a robe or something?”

Damn bastards! How dare they? I’m up there, sweatin’ my ass off, trying to please the masses, twerkin’ like there’s no tomorrow – and they don’t even APPRECIATE it?

I “tsk” loudly and shake my head in disgust.

“Mom?” asks Chloe.

“Huh?”

“The thighs?” she says.

“Oh, yeah, right. Well, I thought everybody shaved their thighs. What about when they wear shorts?”

“Nope,” she says.

“So it’s just smooth from the knee down and all hairy on the thighs? Doesn’t that look odd?” I ask.

“Well, their hair’s pretty light so you can’t really tell,” Chloe says.

(They’re lucky! I knew a girl in high school whose hair was so dark, she even shaved her arms. Oh! And a girl I worked with in New York shaved her arms and waxed her upper lip and eyebrow area and “sideburns!” When I asked if all that was really necessary, she said, “Honey, I’m Armenian. My entire life is devoted to hair removal!”)

I turn to Chloe. “Well, of course it’s fine – they can shave just the calves – whatever they want to do. But did they really say only strippers shave their thighs?”

“Yes!” she says.  “They can’t believe you told me to do that!”  She snickers.  “You’re raising a stripper, Mom!”

“Good grief! It’s just the thighs. It’s not like I suggested shaving the hooha!”

“Omigod, Mom!” she corrects me. “Don’t say ‘hooha!’ It’s ‘Vagina.’”

“HooHa-Hooray?” I ask innocently.

“Vagina!” she says.

“Vajayjay?” I ask sweetly.

“VAGINA!” she shouts.

(It’s possible she’s more mature than I.)

We laugh.

She goes back to her Iphone.

I continue driving, while also silently brainstorming ideas for strip clubs that might welcome dancers like me and my friends…

MILFs R Us?

Hot Chicks & Hot Flashes?

GoGoMama?

PTA Pole Dancers?

Carpool Queens?

Thong Moms?

Book Club Burlesque?

or

The Saggy Strippers? That’s a good one.

Are you interested in trippin’ the light fantastic – and shakin’ what yer mama gave ya?

Swing on by Darcy’s Dollhouse to submit an application. All thigh-shavers welcome.

‘Fess up, ladies! Do you shave just from the knee down – or are you shavin’ the thighs too?
If yes on the thighs, are you a stripper? If so, can you get me a job at your club?
Can I wear Spanx and support hose? Are slippers allowed?
Can I check Facebook while I’m dancing?
Can you play NetFlix on the monitors so I can be entertained while I’m entertaining?
Do you serve snacks? What’s the 401K like?
Look, strippers, just private message me and we’ll work out all the details.
And I only take crisp new hundreds. None of this wrinkly one dollar bill crap.
If Mama’s gonna bust out the Dougie and the Cabbage Patch, with body parts swingin’ in all directions — Mama’s gotta get PAID.

— Darcy Perdu

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If YOU have a daughter, you might enjoy when my smug tween got schooled — or when she mortified me in front of Dr. “Fancypants!”

 

Insulting the Neighbor Who Saved My Ass

OH HOLY OOPS! How did I end up insulting the neighbor who saved my ass?  Neighbor Fail!  #funny #neighbor #internet #humor

So then…I panic.

I’d promised my daughter Chloe that I’d FaceTime her as soon as she returned from her first high school trip back home in California.

But my older sister Dawn and I are all the way in Florida, packing up our Mom’s old condo since she’s already moved to a new place.

And FaceTime’s not working because Mom had already cancelled the internet!

Panic!

We call Chloe to explain, who asks, mournfully, “Is there a Starbucks or Kinkos nearby so you can FaceTime me from there?”

Her sad little voice is like a million razor-sharp daggers in my heart.

I’m actually fortunate my 15-year-old WANTS to tell me every detail!

I know those days of mother-daughter closeness are numbered. One day I’ll call her at college and she’ll say, “I’m sorry, who is this?”

But Dawn and I have no idea where local internet cafes might be in this town.

And we don’t even HAVE internet to SEARCH for places that DO have internet!

Brainstorm!

“Karen!” I shout.

“What?” asks my sister.

I jump up. “Karen, Karen! Remember, we met her yesterday?” I grab my phone and my water bottle. “Mom’s neighbor Karen probably has internet; I’m going over there.”

So I skedaddle next door and knock.

“Karen! It’s me, Darcy! My mom introduced us yesterday? Do you have internet!? I’m trying to FaceTime my daughter but we don’t have internet anymore.”

She looks a little surprised but she lets me in and gives me one of the bedrooms.

“Thank you, Karen!”

I close the door and FaceTime my daughter who tells me every detail of the entire trip. We laugh, chat, and marvel at what a blast she had. And it makes a huge difference that we can see each other’s reactions and expressions. Hooray FaceTime!

Afterwards, I return to the living room, a little guilty for taking so long. So I do that thing where I effusively thank the person, using their first name a million times to feign some kind of familiarity and friendliness:

“Thank you SO much, Karen – you’re a lifesaver! My daughter would’ve been so sad if we couldn’t FaceTime. You’re such a doll, Karen. Honestly, I’m so relieved you were home. Thanks, Karen!”

She hands me a slip of paper and says, “In case your Mom needs me to forward her mail or anything, just give me a call.”

The paper has a phone number and the word “Diane.”

“Diane!?” I say, disbelievingly. “Why have I been calling you ‘Karen’ this whole time?”

I look at her with furrowed brow and annoyed expression as though it’s HER fault I’ve been calling her by the wrong name.

She looks at me with that perplexed expression that seems to say, “I don’t know, moron – why HAVE you been calling me by the wrong name this whole time, you internet-mooching knucklehead?”

(I might just be imagining that, since she seems like a really sweet person.)

I raise my eyebrows and shake my head as though I’m still not entirely convinced that her name is Diane – and perhaps she is mistaken. There are practically quotation marks around her name when I say, “Oh, OK, well thanks for the internet, “Diane,” and have a good night.”

I march back to my Mom’s place and say to my sister, “You’re not gonna believe this! The neighbor’s name is DIANE!

“Oh,” she says. “I wondered why you called her ‘Karen.’”

???

“WHAT!? You KNEW her name was Diane!? Why didn’t you correct me before I made a fool of myself?”

“I dunno,” she says. “I thought maybe you knew something I didn’t know.”

Like what?
Like she LEGALLY changed her name between yesterday and today?
Or she’s got multiple personality disorder and ‘Karen’s’ the one who knows the internet password?

Good grief!  How embarrassing!

So now I’m not sure who I’m more upset with –
me for my embarrassing error,
my sister for not correcting me BEFORE I went over there,
or Diane’s parents for not naming her Karen.

— Darcy Perdu

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(Who’s really to blame here: me, my sister, Diane’s parents, or someone else all together?  Have YOU called someone by the wrong name? Do your kids share the details of their adventures with you?)

Laptop & Shopping Cart Cropped

Ways to save money shopping online

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Hope this sponsored post helps you save some money this holiday season!

What Chinese Character Does YOUR Furrowed Brow Form?

So then…I read a ridiculous email from an exasperating client on my Iphone. I audibly sigh and roll my eyes – at the precise moment I’m passing the hallway mirror – which means I can see the reflection of my furrowed brow.

I’m horrified.

I already mourn the loss of my line-free, wrinkle-free, smooth-as-a-baby complexion.

What Chinese - Baby 350

And I barely made peace with the fact that a small indented line forms between my eyebrows whenever I make my “annoyed” face.

What Chinese - Furrow New 1 image crop

But now THAT line has sprouted MORE lines!

…shooting in SEVERAL directions!

I lean in closer to the mirror.

What is HAPPENING here?

The size and location of my new brow lines seem to be forming…some sort of Chinese character!

There’s one big line down the middle, with little offshoots at angles – just like a Chinese symbol!

What Chinese - Furrow New 2 image crop

What does it signify?

I can only assume my poor puckering brow line is forming the Chinese character for:

WISDOM
or
INTELLIGENCE
or
HONOR.

I check online to confirm my theory.

What Chinese - Symbols Good 400

Um…no.

My creases and crinkles don’t match any of those noble words.

What could it be then?

Maybe I should figure out what makes me furrow my brow in the first place.

It’s usually when I’m baffled, annoyed, or exasperated:

1) Like when my teen daughter Chloe chops the asparagus in half and throws out the tops and only eats the bottoms – because the “tops taste weird.” No, honey, YOU’RE weird. Honestly! What’s next? Peeling an orange to toss the orange and eat the peel? Brow furrowed.

2) Or when my teen son Tucker signs the back of his birthday checks with a squiggle comprised of the initials of his first name, last name, and NICKNAME – all stacked on top of each other!

Me: “Tucker, the bank needs your signature, not your stacked initials!”
Tucker: “But that symbol IS my signature!”
Me: “Who are you – Prince?
Brow furrowed, eyes rolling.

3) Or when I walk into the kitchen to see that David can never seem to put his dishes IN the dishwasher. They’re always dishwasher-adjacent. I mean, he was right there. What prevents him from opening the dishwasher? Is he afraid bloodthirsty zombies will pop out and devour him? Furrowed brow – and frowny face.

4) Or when my coworker asks me to forward her the same attachment that I’ve emailed her four times already, because she can’t keep track of her documents (or her brain). Brow furrowed, head shaking.

5) Or when someone’s in such a hurry that she cuts ahead of me in the school’s car pick-up line, but then holds up all the cars behind her so she can chat extensively out her car window with another mom walking by. Brow furrowed, profanity muttered.

Mystery solved!

The Chinese character my furrowed brow is forming is not:

COURAGE
or
PEACE
or
TRUTH.

It’s

What the Fuck?

Yes, that’s exactly it!

When I furrow my brow, those creases and lines form the Chinese character for these words in bright neon lights:

What the FUCK are you DOING?
What the FUCK are you TALKING ABOUT?
Who the FUCK ARE you?

I suppose the WTF expression could be a bit off-putting – and even alarming – to the people surrounding me, especially since I seem to be brow-furrowing all day long – (I’m looking at YOU, telemarketers, over-zealous classroom moms, and guy at work who interrupts every.single.meeting with off-topic questions/complaints) so perhaps I should conceal my obvious displeasure in some way…

Otherwise, my white-hot smoldering Wrath of Khan stare might smite people right where they stand. And if they happen to read Chinese, they’ll know what my brow is saying.

HOW TO CONCEAL YOUR “WTF” BROW FURROW:

1) Botox
This would conceal my furrow – but also 90% of my facial expressions, so um…no.

What Chinese - Botox More Shots 300

2) Sunglasses
I’d look cool, but if I wear them indoors or at night, it would make other people furrow their brows – like “what’s up with that weird chick wearing her sunglasses 24/7?

What Chinese - Sunglasses 300

3) Bangs
No. Just no.

What Chinese - Bangs 350

4) Xanax
If I pop enough pills, nothing will bother me enough to furrow my brow in the first place! But then again, potential drug addiction…so, no me gusta.

What Chinese - Xanax 250

5) Masquerade Mask
Now here’s an intriguing and unique way to hide my furrowed brow. I love it! I’ll buy an array of colors and styles so I can wear these everywhere – the office, school pick-up, Target, the post office…

What Chinese - Mask 429

And when you see me in the grocery store 10-items-or-less checkout line, in my fancy masquerade mask – just when someone darts in front of me with CLEARLY 16 items and an out-of-state check – you can rest assured my brow is furrowed. Oh it is FURROWED, my friend!

So now YOU tell me:
1) What makes you furrow YOUR brow?
2) And what Chinese character does YOUR furrowed brow form?

— Darcy Perdu

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Who makes MY brow furrow?
Misbehaving Mamas at Back to School Meeting…
Husband Who Brings Home the Most Ridiculous Gift Ever
Party Guest with Outrageous Behavior

What Chinese Character Does YOUR Furrowed Brow Form?  I hoped mine might be "Wisdom" or "Peace," but NOPE!  Turns out it means...click to see!  #funny

He Whispers, “I’m Not Supposed to Do This, But…”

He looks left, then right, then pulls me aside to whisper, "I'm really not supposed to do this, but..."  #funny #dont-think-I-wont #humor

So then…Bessie attempts a tumble — stumbles, sputters, gasps, then dies.

I drape my body across my dryer and murmur, “Oh Bessie, why hast thou forsaken me?”

Time of death: halfway through the Towel Cycle, Which Also Includes My Panties, so Now My Dryer is Dead AND I’ve Got Damp Drawers.

Oh, how I loved this dryer – sturdy, dependable, full of hot air…(much like my third boyfriend)…and long-lasting (not at all like my third boyfriend).

In fact, this dryer (named the reliable, trustworthy Bessie) has out-lasted THREE finicky washers, named Natalia, Bianca, and Fiona. Fiona’s been repaired twice in the past 6 months alone, so I know it’s time to…

Gasp…buy a new washer-dryer set!

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

Get a hold of yourself, woman! It can’t be that difficult. Just Google that shit.

I type in “best price for washer and dryer” and the internet EXPLODES!

There are 10.1 MILLION results. Ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat!

I’m overwhelmed by the multitude of choices. So I zip to a real-live store to talk to a real-live person.

“Hello, my name is Darren. Can I help you find something today?”

I turn to the nice young man and say mournfully, “Bessie is dead.”

He looks alarmed, like “Oh shit do I know someone named Bessie? Who is this chick? Why is she telling me Bessie’s dead? I sell appliances, not caskets!”

Being a consummate sales professional, Darren keeps these thoughts to himself.

I clarify. “Bessie, my Beloved Dryer, is dead. And Fiona the Washer is not far behind.”

“Ohhh,” says Darren, somewhat relieved that I’m not mourning a human death – and delighted I’m about to make a large purchase in his department.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve shopped for a washer-dryer though, so…” I gesture helplessly to the floor models. “I mean look at these washers – I don’t know if I need ‘Steam Clean, Aqua Jet, Blue LED Lights, or a Diamond Drum!’”

He smiles and asks, “Well, let’s start with the basics. Do you want a Top Load Washer or a Front Load Washer?”

SELF-Load, Darren. I want a SELF-load washer that will load ITSELF.”

He laughs. “Well, they haven’t invented that yet. But come look at these Top Load washers.”

Dryer - Washer See-Through

I peer into the CLEAR top of the washer. “Why is the top SEE-THROUGH?

“So you can see the clothes being washed,” he says enthusiastically.

Um, no. I do not want to know how the sausage is made, thankyouverymuch.

And who wants to watch clothes being washed? That’s just a step above watching paint dry, for God’s sake.

(Although – even as I’m typing this, I’m sure someone’s pitching a reality show based on this very concept right now! Coming this fall, Discovery Channel’s “DIRTY LAUNDRY” airs at 5 pm on Fridays AND 10 am on Saturdays AND 3 pm on Sundays AND…well, you get the point…the frickin’ laundry NEVER ENDS!)

But seriously, nobody wants to see behind the curtain. Not the phone, not the watch, and certainly not the washer.

Dryer - Phone Watch

The oven’s an entirely different matter.

A window to watch my chocolate chip cookies plump to a delicious golden brown? Yes please!

Dryer - Cookies

Apparently none of the washer-dryers here make cookies.

I open the needlessly-clear lid and look inside the washer.

“Hey!” I say, pointing at the empty cylinder. “Where’s the…the…?”

Dryer - No Agitator Angle

“Agitator?” asks Darren.

“Yeah, doesn’t it need that?’”

Dryer - Agitator Large

“No, it doesn’t really help wash the clothes.”  He grins.  “The agitator just ‘agitates’ them.”

OK perhaps that’s a hilarious joke amongst appliance folk, but now this is all I can picture:

Dryer - Captions with Agitator

Also, I’m highly suspicious of a washer without that swirly-thingamabob aka agitator in the middle. Will the clothes REALLY get clean without that pole-blade pushing them around?

(Well, I suppose I could stand there and WATCH the clothes through my handy-dandy SEE-THROUGH top to MAKE SURE they’re really getting clean.)

Aw fuck it. Who am I to tell WhirlpoolMaytagGESamsungKenmore how to do their job?

Yank out the agitator – make the lid see-through – add steam and 78 settings – fine. Whatevs. Can I please just leave here for less than $1500?

Seriously.

“Darren, when did washer dryers get so expensive? I thought they’d be about $400 each – these are all $700 bucks a pop!”

Darren looks right, then left, then motions me to the side of the aisle. He lowers his voice and says, “Look, I’m not supposed to do this, but…”

(OMIGOD! I LOVE when salespeople say that – in fact, I love when ANYONE says that! Because you KNOW that WHATEVER follows “I’m not supposed to do this, but…” is gonna be AWESOME!)

And it is.

He continues, “…we’re having a huge sale starting in 3 days, so if you can wait until then, you can save over $500 on this set right here.”

He guides me to his desk computer, where he opens the sale ad on his employee email.

I look at the set. It’s fancy. And yes I can wait 3 days. I’ll tell everyone in my family to get cozy in their undies cuz they’re gonna wear those puppies for 3 days straight.

“Awesome, Darren! You’re the best. I’ll be back in 3 days. And the store delivers?”

“Oh, yes,” he assures me. “Our team will deliver the washer-dryer to your home, set them up, haul away the old ones, and—”

“—stay to do the laundry?” I ask hopefully.

He laughs. “No, no, they won’t do that.”

“Well, a girl can dream,” I say.

He gives me his card; I thank him profusely; I promise to return in 3 days for the purchase.

When I get home, I practically skip into the living room where David and our teen son Tucker are watching TV.

“How’d the washer dryer hunt go?” asks David.

“I made a friend! His name is Darren! He’s saving me $500 on a washer dryer!” Pause “I have to sleep with him, but still…”

$500? Totally worth it,” says David.

Tucker laughs and returns to his TV show.

He knows that OF COURSE I wouldn’t sleep with a salesman just to save $500.

(But I tell you what, whoever invents that SELF-loading washer, you’ve got a freebie comin’ your way, baby!)

— Darcy Perdu

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(What do you wish YOUR washer-dryer could do? Any “special deals” a nice salesperson gave you? What’s a good name for a reality show about laundry?)