When I was a youngin' and living at college, I was fortunate enough to have a laundry room in my dorm. I'd do laundry on the weekends, because I was that much fun. Well, laundry, hitting the pub, and playing pool.*
I'd pump bo-coo quarters into the washers/dryers but at least I didn't have to haul my laundry through the snow. As they were timed cycles, I'd load up the available machine(s), check the time, and come back when the cycle was scheduled to be through. I remember one Saturday afternoon, arriving to retrieve my whites from the dryer which should have just buzzed, only to find another chick there with my socks in her hands. I stood there, confused.
Me: Are those my socks?
Me, eyes widening: Why do you have my socks?
Chick: They were just. so. white.
Oh. By all means, then. If they're so white you can't help yourself, take my socks.
Puleeze. I took them back. I never said anything to her because I couldn't wrap my brain around the audacity of her answer. But I've never forgotten it either.***
I picture this chick in court:
Judge: Did you steal the necklace?
Judge: Can you tell the court why?
Chick: It was just. so. sparkly.
Every time I take my gym clothes out of the dryer and think that my socks are looking a little dingy, I remember this chick, coveting my white socks and I think: they're fine.
* Despite the fact that I played a lot of pool, I never got any better. Not even a little. I can hold a cue. I can connect. I can sometimes sink something. Once in a while I luck into a really impressive shot. And the rest: complete crap. Fun!**
** This is surprisingly similar to my bowling experience. Fun!
*** Years later, I was watching a porn film. The, um, actress in the scene delivered her lines enthusiastically: "It's so big! And white!" I thought of socks.