Say yes to Pinot Gris and letting it all hang out

My fellow inebriates,

If you’ve never visited LBHQ (which of course you’re welcome to) then you’ve never seen Langley in all its glory. Wanna see old washing machines out on the curb? Trucks up on blocks? Toilets full of shrubbery? Well hell, come on down to LBHQ.

2016-08-29 14.52.25My family does its bit to keep pace with the neighbourhood. We’ve neglected the flower bed for four years. The lawn is littered with all manner of Nerf weaponry and ammo. And as you look up at our house (we’re on a hill), you do so through a mesh of undulating dandelions.

That’s why I was so delighted to read about Claire Mountjoy, a British mum who decided to hang her washing in the front yard.

clothesline-498738_960_720She had some good reasons—three boys = endless laundry; the sun had come out (which it does as infrequently in Britain as it does here); she wanted to save energy and be environmentally friendly; and she doesn’t have a backyard.

All good, right? (As long as there are no bears hanging from the line by their ears.)


Not cool!

Not so much. Seems a neighbourhood business owner was affronted by Mountjoy’s laundry and wrote this anonymous letter:


Photo submitted to CBC by Claire Mountjoy.

Of course Mountjoy was upset. An anonymous letter is the most dickish means of communication, and it turns out local businesses were not onside with it. They showed their solidarity with Mountjoy by airing their laundry too, until the whole neighbourhood was festooned with socks, pajamas and undies.

colyton-clothes Photo CBC, Alison Stenning

Photo submitted to CBC by Alison Stenning

While the sender of the letter remains unknown, the rest of the town seems pretty jubilant about its laundry. In fact, there’s talk of an annual laundry event.

So here’s to the town of Colyton for letting it all hang out. A dedication: DIRTY LAUNDRY “SAY YES” PINOT GRIS ($17.49).

Dirty Laundry SAY YES pinot grisNow, all I have to do is get my mum to buy some so we can share tasting notes, my fellow inebriates. She’ll say she’s busy doing laundry or something, but I think I can persuade her.

Afternoon Comfort

My Fellow Inebriates,

It’s pouring rain outside, making the outdoors no place for furry bear with a beanbag ass. I fear water like nothing else. Weighing less than a pound under dry conditions, I manage to shuffle around through willpower and/or my parents’ deranged imaginations. But I manage. Add water and it’s all over.

With some liquid courage in me (an Island Punch actually: rum/orange and pineapple juices/grenadine in a collins glass), I decided to research the washing of “stuffies,” the somewhat pejorative term for me and my cohorts. You see, my friend Violet Purplebunny recently had a washing-machine experience that changed her personality permanently, robbing her of all empathy and converting her from a partial to a complete sociopath. Ever since then I’ve been haunted by questions about the pair of LG machines that lurk in our upstairs closet, and what really goes on in them.

Violet’s people put her in the Maytag because—picture my relief, humans—she does not possess a beanbag ass. Unlike me and lots of my friends, her bum doesn’t crunch when she sits; it’s what we call a foam ass and will dry as fast as your underwear will. Shudder…

My friend Scarybear has the biggest beanbag ass I’ve ever seen. Because of this he will never go in any washing machine, unless he is completely saturated with vomit or feces, and then perhaps his people would opt to dry-clean him. Of course that would add to the brain damage he’s already developed over the years through his violent lifestyle. Just as he lives with that dread, so do I fear the dry-cleaner, although I could probably trust my parents to be too cheap to cough up for it.

Where was I? Let me sharpen up my Island Punch with some green-apple Bacardi. Oh yeah, the machine…

For animals such as myself, the washing machine is our Room 101. I cannot bring myself to fully imagine the agitation, the cold, the hot, the wet, the poisons, the scents. So I did an innocent search for washing info, hoping to find some kind soul with a solution for dirty animals that would not be quite so…final. Instead my horror was reinforced by

And this seemed gentle compared to the following psychotic advice (

“You can wash them in the washer. If they have any stains on them, spray with whatever stain remover you use and then put the stuffed animals in a pillow case and tie a knot in the pillow case and wash on gentle cycle and then throw in the dryer while still in the pillow case and they will come out very clean and fluffy…used this method for years and they come out great….”

Holy shit, people!

Whatever sobriety I entertained a notion of is out the window as I medicate myself back into a calm state with the following:

  • 2 oz amaretto
  • 1 oz Southern Comfort peach
  • 1 oz vodka
  • 3 oz sweet-and-sour
  • Red Bull

Ahhhh, I feel safer now. But I’d better not spill any on me.