I’m a feminist. That’s why I own a dishwasher.

I collect kitchens, one empty coffee cup at a time. I wish they made dishwashers that cleaned with dreams, not laundry detergent.

My boxers have salad dressing stains on them, and my dishwasher is broken. I’ll make dinner for you, if you clean up afterwards.

I love microwave dinners. I also like eating other appliances, like fridges and dishwashers.

My response landed me in hot water. A dirty dish also landed in hot water. If I weren’t such a raging feminist, maybe I’d buy a dishwater instead of scrubbing them all by hand.

You don’t need brass knuckles to discover if a man has a glass jaw. All you need to do is stick his face in a dishwasher, and then check for water spots.