This is the type of thing you get from me when I'm in a bad mood and have done the laundry and discovered I must once again unball the cups in my sports bras because the stupid people who make them don't seem to see an issue with not securing them into place. And let's not forget trying to fix them requires attempting to do it through the teeny tiny hole they leave you to get your fingers in there. If you're a woman you feel this pain every time you wash a sports bra or bathing suit. 

Anyway, here is my epic piece of writing inspired by the idiocy of clothing manufacturers ....

Lola had enough, she was tired of this shit. She grabbed her shotgun and backpack and stomped out to the car. She drove downtown, parked, and walked the three blocks to the building where she stood staring up at it for a moment. This was it, she'd looked up the address on their website, the company headquarters. She stalked inside pointed the gun at the receptionist and demanded to see whoever was in charge.

After a brief argument and some threats, she was taken up to the board room and shown inside where she found several men sitting around the table.

She tossed the backpack into the center of the table. "You have some laundry to do, gentlemen."

She leveled the shotgun on them and forced them to wash the entire load of clothes contained in the backpack. Then watched as they attempted to shove the cups back into the sports bras and bathing suit tops or straighten them out where they had crumpled into tiny balls inside the garment.

"Sew those bitches in from now on or I'll be back," she told them before she rested the shotgun over her shoulder and left, whistling on her way out.