Bar Soap vs. Body Wash II

It seems that there are quite a few opponents of my preference to bar soap and detest my slandering of body wash. Over the past couple of days, I have scoured the internet and made quite a few phone calls to get down to bottom of this body wash phenomenon and its damage on our society’s male population. I read on the website Advertising Age that body wash sales finally toppled bar soap sales in 2008. The website also cites Old Spice in 2003 as the first predominately male oriented brand to produce body wash in the United States. This seems to all make sense, but I figured there had to more than what this website reported. I made some telephone calls and contacted a man at Proctor and Gamble named Ed Shirley who was there from the beginning of the body wash campaign. He knew the answers to all of my questions.  

Shirley admitted the main reason the product researchers came up with this liquid wash was because the CEO of P&G’s son lacked the mental capacity to spin a perfectly good bar of soap between his hands to make suds. He also lacked the coordination to actually rub the bar against his body. He would rub the bar against his body where it would instantly squirt out, landing on the already slippery porcelain tub. His parents were greatly concerned for their son’s safety. After much thought and breaking all preconceived notions of sexuality and gender roles, they allowed their son to use women’s body wash. Inspiration hit Shirley when he realized there were other parents of dimwitted, klutzes out there that would purchase this safety product. Originally, it was only sold on the American Red Cross website but, eventually, made its way to supermarkets.

I also contacted the man in charge of product development for Axe in the United Kingdom, Richard Lipisky. While Axe began mainly as a body spray producer, they quickly jumped into the already over-crowded, bloated body wash market. Lipisky quickly admitted, without much prodding, that Axe body wash was created for Europeans who rarely showered. “We hoped that Europeans, who already look at showering as a novelty, would enjoy this novelty, however ridiculous body wash might be,” Lipisky said with an eye roll. After finding huge success in Europe selling Axe in gag shops, marketers for the company decided to roll the dice in America. Using commercials meant to be nothing short of idiotic, Axe hoped Americans would follow Europeans and use Axe body wash as a gag gift for white elephant Christmases and bachelor parties. Lipisky and his bosses at Axe were pleasantly surprised that American high school boys didn’t quite get the joke and used the ridiculously smelling product for real hygienic purposes.

Whether it is for dimwits or people unaware of the novelty, ultimately, body wash is here to stay. I’ll admit defeat because I know I’m in the minority in this debate, but I will never give in and my children will never play with children who use body wash.

 For any reading this thinking of a witty comment to leave because you’re annoyed with my insults, please just stop. Ask yourself, can I take a joke? If the answer is no, then you’re probably reading the wrong blog. There are some great, serious blogs out there about cooking and housekeeping to anarchy and socialism: pick one. If you get the joke, I congratulate you for being a reasonable, normal person.

Bar Soap vs. Body Wash

There is a point in every couple’s relationship where a decision must be made: bar soap or body wash. This question is more than meets the eye because, while not spoken out loud, we know it’s really: man’s bar soap or woman’s body wash. The path that a couple takes depends on who makes the better argument for their choice in body cleansing.

Body wash is inferior. First, when I use body wash, I use half of the bottle. I squirt a bunch on my arm, smear it around trying to work up some bubbles, and vainly try to wash it off. I repeat this process all over my body until the bottle is half full (at least I’m positive about it). The body wash never really gets off my skin. I just get out of the water with a nice film of soap still on my body.

You’re probably thinking, well use a luffa, dumbass. This brings me to me second point. I refuse to use any type of hygienic body product that requires a special tool. A wash cloth is not a tool because I already have one. I’d have to purposely go to a luffa store and buy one. Furthermore, one doesn’t NEED to use a wash cloth with bar soap; however, Dave Chappelle and the big, fat cat wash cloth lobbyists would have you believe otherwise.

Third, bar soap makes bubbles. Bubbles let one know they’re being cleaned. Did I get my back? There are bubbles, so yeah.

Fourth, body wash is only for girls. They don’t make manly body wash. It might have a manly label, but it’s not manly. Bar soap has Irish Spring. Ireland makes me think of bare knuckle fighting, Irish whiskey, and derby hats: all manly. Hmmm… perhaps all of my knowledge of Ireland comes from Far and Away. 

Fifth, my bar soap can be used for hand soap, too. It’s the Swiss Army Knife of the washing world.

Here are my wife’s counterpoints: “I don’t care. You’ve made your point. Stop standing on the couch.”

Checkmate.

**Update: I've finally started updating my work out page if anyone is interested.

Random Notes IV

I hate when things sound like they are supposed to rhyme but don’t (there is a comedian named Brian Regan who has a bit about Dora the Explorer kind of rhyming but not – perfect example). There is a restaurant near my old apartment called Nellie’s Deli. Nellie Deli rhymes but Nellie’s Deli doesn’t. Every time I drove by it, I’d just let those words roll around my head. Why? It’s just annoying to me. There is also a store that sales ergonomic chairs and memory foam mattresses called Relax the Back. It kind of rhymes but doesn’t. It needs to change its name to Relax the Backs. Are they unaware of this? When I drive by it, I just say those words in my head over and over again. You might be thinking, well, it worked because you remember these places. Maybe they should rename these places Scrotum or Anus because I’d remember that, too. “Oh yeah, Scrotum has some great open faced roast beef sandwiches.”

The whole bathroom situation in my house is a mess. Actually, it’s the whole towel situation. My wife uses three towels every time she takes a shower, and without fail, she always takes a shower before me. Now, I’m all about saving laundry work and not using a new towel every time I shower. I imagine most people are clean when they get out of the shower, so it makes sense not to use a new one each time – just hang them up to dry. If my wife and I used new towels each time, we’d go through at least twenty-one a week. That’s an unreasonable amount of work. My problem is that she always takes a shower before me. Our towel rack really only fits three towels, so I always end up using a damp towel. I basically just smear the water off of me. I scream, “Injustice!” every day. I look forward to the day when I can use a dry towel. I’ve tried toilet paper but it’s just not the same.

I went to the store today to buy our weekly groceries. I bought the staple dinner items. I bought some different micro brewed beers (the seasonal spring time Blue Moon option and (Houston’s own) St. Arnold’s Lawnmower – both delicious). I even talked to a young woman about which beer purchases she should make. After I purchased all of the items, I left the store. As I walked out, I passed by some big reflective mirrors. My fly was down the entire time. Classic.

100th Post!!!

This is my 100^th post! It’s an accomplishment, I suppose. Not to sound arrogant or anything but I didn’t have any doubt I would stick with this blog thing, so meh. This does give me an opportunity to reflect on blogging in general. I wrote about what I had learned about blogging before, but this time I’m going to write about what I know now or still have questions about.

-           Does the way my blog looks matter? Like, if my content is of high quality (big IF there!), would people read it anyway? Does having a nice header make a difference? Do pretty, professional pictures make a difference? If any of these things are true then I’m in trouble because my blog looks like a fifth grader made it. Seriously, I bet I could get a fifth grader, show him how to log on to Blogger, and he could do a better job. I have no idea how to use HTML (I started reading about it but quickly got sucked into an episode of Gangland that was on in the background). Also, it was too hard.

My blog is like the chick in college who never wears make-up to class, wears pajamas everywhere, and has hair like a rat’s nest, but if you catch her at the right angle, there’s something there. Oh, there’s something there. She’s down to party, too.

-          Getting people to read requires a lot of sucking up. I always thought that if my blog was good enough one person would read and tell a friend and they’d tell a friend and so on. It does not work like that. The only way to get people to read is to read their blog. I feel like a few people kind of have a well-what’s-in-it-for-me attitude, and that’s cool. Have I already become disillusioned? I’m not talking about you! Of course not!

-          I’m getting to where I don’t remember what I’ve already written. I think, did I write a post about the hair smudge yet? Oh yeah, last week, duh. I have blogging Alzheimer’s.

-          I need to take my followers counter down. I’ve come to the conclusion that keeping that tally up only serves one purpose: people will follow if they think your blog is big enough in hopes that people will follow them in return. It’s okay. I did that, too. Also, some people have like 300 followers and 5 posts. What does having followers mean? Are they little trophies? The question is: will people read my blog if they don’t think I have any followers? Methinks not, so maybe I’ll leave it up for now.

I will admit that it’s useful for adding blogs to your Google reader, so you can check them out later.

-          With all of that being said about followers and the ways of blogging, I thoroughly enjoy reading some of the other blogs out there. Some of you do a great job, and I try to read and comment on everything you post. I really try to keep my blogroll pretty close to what I read and like the most.

-          My wife wants me to blog about my dogs more. She has never laughed at one of my posts but giggles with pure, utter ecstasy when I write about our dogs. When I put a picture of them on my blog, it makes her week. 

This is all for now. I’ll try to have something funny for you on Sunday. No promises though. I mean I will have something on Sunday. No promises on the funny part.

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I'm participating in TexaGermaNadian's blog hop. Check it out! Her site is super cute.

Ode to Lady Haircutters

I think I mentioned this before, but it is important to mention again even if I already did. I found a good haircutter lady, Maria. I must first mention that I refuse to go to a fancy boutique of any sorts to get a haircut. My high-and-tight fade is pretty easy to do and has to be cut regularly enough where I refuse to pay more than $15 for it. I’ve searched far and wide to find a dive haircut place; I’ve looked around my work and where I live and have settled on the Fantastic Sam’s around the corner from my house. Honestly, I don’t have a specific haircutter there because I don’t want to hurt any of their feelings. Maria did it the best, but I will settle for one of the others. I just take the first available and pray it isn’t a man.

I don’t get how men get haircuts from other men, like at a barbershop. I derive more physical pleasure from a haircutter than I do from any other person (besides the obvious… I’m married). I’m not getting creepy here so don’t you. I’m not some deviant haircut fetish perv. I just think getting my hair washed feels awesome, getting my head shaved feels super awesome, and getting my hair cut feels super-duper awesome. This is the closest I get to infidelity.

A man doing it would just ruin the moment. My haircutter, whoever she may be, and I share these moments when she bonks my head with the clippers and blow dries my forehead; it’s cannot be shared with a man. A man would just create confusion and self-doubt. Can he do it just as well? He can talk about sports, too; is that better? Does he get me more because he’s a man?

No.

Women haircutters.

I like women haircutters.

Advice to College Guys

According to WebMD, “The most common symptom of acute bronchitis is a cough that is dry and hacking at first. After a few days, the cough may bring up mucus. You may have a low fever and feel tired.” You will thank me for this later college guys.

When I was in college, I began having these symptoms. Because I didn’t know how to go to the doctor in college, I went to the emergency room. I went to the emergency room any time anything was wrong. In Austin, I literally lived across the street from St. David’s Hospital, so what the hell, right? You can’t beat the convenience. That is all beside the point (whoa… by the way… there is a huge debate online whether to use beside or bedsides there); the doctor saw me, quickly determined I had bronchitis, and sent me on my way with a prescription with only a mild scolding for wasting the hospital’s time and resources.

I went to the nearest pharmacy and got my prescription filled. The lady behind the counter said, “Just pour the powder into some hot water and drink it. You should better pretty quickly.” She then handed me a box marked: Chlamydia.

I said, “Uh, I don’t have Chlamydia. I have bronchitis. There must be some mistake.”

“You kind of look like a scum bag, so I thought you might need it,” she said with her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, the same medicine is used to treat both ailments. It’ll work,” she really said.

I took the box and made a beeline for my apartment, being ultra-careful not to run into anyone I knew (especially my then girlfriend who lived in the apartment across the hall. “Oh, what’s this box with Chlamydia written across the front? It’s for my lungs. Don’t worry about it.”). Ultimately, I took the medicine without running in to anyone or having any problems, and my bronchitis cleared up pretty quickly soon thereafter. The moral of this story is if you’re a scumbag, a loose woman, or just have discharge coming from your penis or rectum, memorize the symptoms at the top of this page. If you do a good job of faking it, you can get out of that pinch without the embarrassment of an anal probe.

P.S. I thought Chlamydia and crabs were the same thing, so I had a bunch of crab puns all throughout my post. “If you’re in a pinch…” It turns out that they are not the same. There appears to be quite a bit more oozing with Chlamydia.

Hair Smudge Update

If you haven’t read my last post about the hair smudge, read this. If you have, here is the couch. The picture didn’t come out that well, but I think you get it.