Laundry detergent bottle, we hardly knew ye.

So I went into my building's laundry room this morning to wash my gym clothes before I went to work, and wouldn't you know it, some jizzwad cheapass totally stole my fucking bottle of laundry detergent, which I left in there a couple days ago. Seriously: what the fuck? Not having time to go buy some more at the Safeway, I instead commenced complaining a lot to myself and eventually wrote a note that I taped above the washer that read, "Dear jerk, If you're so poor that you felt the need to not just use some of my detergent, but actually steal it completely, maybe you should consider writing the government and asking them to increase your welfare cheques so you can finally afford to buy your own. Ass. I hate you, Chris."

I thought that'd be the end of it for me, but the issue again resurfaced when I found myself desperately trying to find a small, non-election-related news brief for the last bit of Roundup, and, unable to come up with anything against the looming deadline, spat out this little gem:

DETERGENT: STOLEN!

A Garneau-area apartment building is on alert after a daring laundry detergent theft that has left one basement-apartment dweller with unanswered questions and at least two loads of dirty clothes.

According to police, the victim, Chris Boutet, 28, left his apartment and crossed the hall to his building’s laundry room early Wednesday with an armload of shirts in need of a wash; upon entering the room, however, he was unable to find the four-litre jug of Arm and Hammer Spring Breeze liquid detergent that he left there during an unrelated laundry incident two days prior. After double-checking under the sink in the kitchen to ensure that he had not, in fact, taken the detergent back into his apartment earlier, he eventually surmised it had been stolen.

“Why the hell would someone take my laundry detergent?” Boutet muttered to no one in particular. “What is this, a fucking youth hostel?”

The investigation is ongoing.

Man, is it ever great to finally not have to care about my job. But anyhow, in short, I've spent an inordinate amount of time caring (and writing) about my missing detergent, so I figured it might as well be on here, too. And hol-ee fuck—if I ever walk into that laundry room and smell Spring Breeze coming out of the washer, I'm going to wait until that prick comes down to put his stuff in the dryer and totally knee him in the spine. "Ha! Now you can't fucking walk anymore!" I'll yell. "That's what you get for stealing my laundry detergent! You owe me six bucks!"

Then, everything will be set right again, and I can get back to the terrifying business of moving to Toronto by the end of the month. Yee.