Stop Putting Your Laundry in Me

by an IKEA Bag

Okay, I get it. I'm convenient. You don't want to lug a hamper around, and you have me, just taking up space. I have handles. I'm big. It's almost as though the Swede who designed me thought "Oh, after this thing gets done carrying a "BILLY" bookshelf home, you can put your laundry in it! I am so clever! I deserve a treat. Lingonberries!"

But just because something is convenient doesn't mean it's right.

Say a race of aliens game to Earth. And they had laundry that would somehow fit conveniently into the body cavity of a living adult human. And willy-nilly, they start snatching up people and stuffing them full of alien thongs, alien shirts, and alien scarves. You'd immediately decry the aliens, say what they were doing was inhuman and wrong. Hell, you'd probably start a non-profit based around the misuse of human bodies!

I'm sorry, that example was...over the top. I'm just so tired of having laundry inside of me all the time.

I'm not saying don't use me. I was made to be used. The happiest day of my life was when you took home a modular storage unit in me. I felt...complete. And I don't expect you to take me back to IKEA, to use me again. That place is horrible. It's like a college dorm that's been retrofitted to be a dildo factory. So don't put furniture in me.

Put puppies in me.

Put an old set of encyclopedias in me.

Put a baby in me, because you can't afford the "HENSVIK" crib that you want until you get paid in a week. I promise I'll be gentle, with your baby.

Do you know how much of your body hair sticks to your clothes when you take them off? A lot, that's how much. There are times when I feel like there's a pube jungle inside of me. Sometimes your clothes have...fluids...on them. Do you know how it feels? To hold someone else's fluids? I hope not, for your sake.

Please stop debasi--NNF. URRN. HURK!

Great. A jock strap.