Good morning. Before we all start our days, I have but a few words of constructive feedback aimed at the electronics in my apartment that require cords.
This shoutout is addressed to all of you even though it is directed only at particular members of your alliance, namely: iPhone headphones cord(s), iPhone USB charger cord, Hairdryer extension cord, Curling iron cord, bamboo kitchen blinds cord, coffee maker cord, and my sweatpants drawstring.
I am sick and tired of your shenanigans. Just yesterday, I went looking for you, iPhone headphones cord, because I had the urge to discreetly listen to music while walking to the my subway stop (this is also an excellent way to avoid any and all pick-up lines, hobo conversations, and hearing whatever the angry New Yorkers are yelling at you about today). When I found you, you were lasciviously wrapped around the iPod charger cord, even though I had put you away neatly coiled around yourself. I apologize if I did not make it clear that I expected you to stay that way.
I know that you are wildly attracted to the iPod charger cord, but try to respect my feelings a little. Contorting yourselves into every position in the Kama Sutra simultaneously makes it really hard to separate you when I need to use either of you. I realize that iCloud is coming and you may scared, USB cord, but until then – do you think you can exercise some self-control and just chill the heck out?
Bamboo kitchen blinds cord, your narcissism is alarming. Your almost pathological autoeroticism is beginning to impact your work performance. I called upon you today to open the blinds only to find that you were irreversibly tangled up in an orgy with the coffeemaker, hairdryer, and curling iron cords. I spent the better part of the morning trying to straighten you out, but despite my best efforts, you are all still kinky.
Don’t make me get my scissors.
Sweatpants drawstring, being in the privacy of the washing machine does not make it okay to rape the other clothing. My underwear and socks do not appreciate being forced into a three-way with you. I also do not appreciate having to rescue my underwear and socks from said three-way. Getting all pouty and retreating into the waistband of my sweatpants also will not change the fact that I am mad at you.