Mop N Glow

My lovely sister and I were in this hell hole building Luxurious Apartment Building in the Hollywood Hills, and and we saw a Neighbor step on to the elevator holding this:


After expressing surprise that the elevators were even working, my sister said "that's gonna wind up on that table. . ." And sure enough, when walked down into the laundry room later that day, there it was, in all its filthy, moppy glory.


Later, when I came back to snap some photos, there were a bunch of new NeighborGoodies on the table, along with a terrible odor. This isn't really that unusual, considering the filth that plagues the apartments here in the Luxurious Hollywood Hills, but this time, it was different... it seemed almost. . . mean!

I knew it wasn't the mop, because it didn't smell bad before. Plus, mops, no matter how good they claim to be at removing tough stains, aren't often used to clean up the scents of death and desperation, so they are unlikely to absorb it.

I also ruled out the used spaghetti strainer. . .

. . .as this somehow looks to be the cleanest thing that's been on the table in quite some time.
Of course...there's a pretty good chance it was cleaned using that mop, so I wouldn't go using it during your dinner parties quite yet.

I also wouldn't recommend using this:


. . .an old-school microwave oven, that is about the size of a standard television, and is clearly leaking radiation whenever it is in use. Possibly even when it isn't in use. I knew this had to be the culprit. Something awful was waiting inside of the Microwave. . .something heinous. . .and possibly severed & bloody.

I slowly opened the microwave. . .


. . .and discovered that, as strong as the odor was in the NeighborGoodies Laundry Room, it was fifteen times as strong inside of the microwave chamber.

These stains are all that is left of whatever was in there...but the laundry room quickly filled with the acrid odor of Hot Pockets, gas station burritos, and what may or may not be burnt flesh--likely from the radiation poisoning the previous owner has suffered. All of these olfactory offenses immediately clung to my clothes, which I'm seriously considering donating to the NeighborGoodies cause.

The lesson here is: Don't open up discarded microwaves. And that's. . . one to grow on.