The Kotex wrapper in the couch.

What many people don't know about me is that my apartment is picture perfect and cleaned within an inch of my life weekly/daily--i'm a...a neat freek. I don't mind cleaning as a general rule, and I like my roommate, but he's not as particular as I am, so I just end up cleaning a lot, but life goes on. Having to deal with the sloppyness of a str8 man is easier for me than dealing with gay guy PMS and re-runs of Liza Minelli With a Z. Those two affairs always had a ruinous effect on my relations with gay roommates. None of them liked me, I don't think.

Last night, while cleaning Janusz' dried up Polish semen from my couch cushion with warm soapy water and a firm scrub brush, I discovered a used and wilted condom, but it was nothing he and I had left behind. It was from my str8 roommate, who rarely gets laid, but happened to be dating a Jappy girl from the UES a few weeks ago. A screamer. "Indians and Jews have a lot in common," he would say. One minute deeper into the couch, and I would come across a Kotex Wrapper.

I made a mental note to myself to vaccuum out the couch on a weekly basis from now on. I thought she was cute, but Kotex Wrappers belong in the trash, not my couch.

The condom is from last month. What about the Kotex Wrapper?