The title of this post may have conjured up thoughts of landfills or septic tanks, but I’m here to set the record straight. The real dirtiest places on the planet are where you’d least expect them.
My Jean Thighs
I don’t think I’ve used a napkin since sometime back in the late 80s. Why would I? I mean, I’m already wearing two huge denim napkins everywhere I go. Convenient? Yes. But the fact that I won’t even sit down now due to the overpowering stench of my jeans is a bit of an inconvenience.
Under My Driver’s Seat
There might as well be tube connecting the inside of my nose to the underside of my driver’s seat. When I don’t have the time or energy for the pick-and-roll window fling (which is about 88% of the time), the only remaining option is stick him down there with the rest of his family and friends. Reuniting them makes me feel so warm inside.
My College Dorm Toilet Rim
Last time I checked, nothing that comes out of my body has ever been neon orange. How, then, did this glowing ring form around the toilet rim? We never tried washing it because it became a science experiment of sorts. We were simply waiting to see what mind-boggling color was next in line. Magenta? Midnight blue?
My Mouth in the Morning
We currently don’t have next-door neighbors on either side. We were told that one was a foreclosure and the other was a whole-house drug raid, but I’m not so sure. I have a sneaking suspicion that my morning breath penetrated the walls of their home and forced them into the streets.
Behind My Childhood Couch
If I’ve done my math correctly, during the 13 years I lived in that house, I threw enough fingernails between the couch and the wall to fill sixteen Hefty bags. I’ve yet to find a spot like that where I currently reside, but when I do, my house will finally be a home.
Now that I’ve made you throw up in your mouth, it’s your turn. What, in your opinion, is the dirtiest place on the planet?
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