-- Num ---- Username ---- Category ------------- Posted -- Expires --- Pages --- | 68825 | JDCAPRIO | CHATTER | 08/10/95 | 08/24/95 | 5 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- | Description: Southern women's hygenine | ================================================================================ Ok, as many of you may or may not now, I'm temporarily homeless and inbetween apartments. So, for about a week or so (give or take a month), I'm crashing at New Orleans. This gives me the honorable distinction of having lived at *two* official DAK houses - a feat I'm sure has been achieved before, but I bet I hold the honors of being the youngest ever to do so. Anyway, it has been quite an experience ... I love everyone here to death, but I spend most of my time in complete and total misery: Cats (fleas) and southerners (Air conditioning? Not until the plaster melts!). Nothing like being a sweaty, itchy mass of flesh most of the day. Although, truth be told, it has been an education beyond belief. The factor that has opened my eyes - given me experience beyond that any normal writer could care for - has been in the usage of a bathroom shared by two women. I'm staying in Jackies room (seperate beds [well, I sleep on the floor {wanna buy a bridge?]) and the bathroom that Nancy and Jackie uses (btw, Jackie's new and official proc name is "IMPWO" (impossible woman), or "Slug"; use either or, she'll answer). I can't quite explain this bathroom to you - maybe the women can relate, but I'm sharing this for the benefit of the single men. Or, at least those that have the common sense to live in seperate abodes. Ok, I'm not sure how to begin this ... its all about BOTTLES. Lots of bottles - repetative ones, upside down ones, exotic ones, plastic, glass, ceramic, empty, full, half & half, whatever. This has been the biggest shock for me. The first day I came home from work, tired and exhausted. So, I go to take a shower. I grab a towel, climb into the tub (wretching at the cat-shower-curtain) and turn on the water. I look around for some shampoo ... and, Good Lord, I have more choices than in isle 7 at Krogers. I wasn't too sure where to begin, so I picked up a bottle and read the lable. Pinapple and Watermelon bath foam. What the fuck is this shit? Then, I find some stuff called "batherapy." Hunh? Bath pre-wash, skin cleansing cream, VO5 hot oil, Citre reconstructing conditioner, Halsa highlight treatment, White rain exodus, Pantene ... the list could go on. And, some sponge that looks like a dried cucumber cut in half. At this point I was getting pretty prune-wrinkled, so I just washed my hair with a bar of soap. Now, I'm no expert on soap, but this stuff was all oily and greasy and turned my skin numb. All the soap I had ever used just foamed, but I guess my complection is much improved these days, Ok, so I dried off and opened the medicine cabinet looking for toothpaste. Damn if this thing wasn't packed to the rim, too. I won't go listing all the various chemicals I found here, but they all had vaguley French or floral names, and no apparent purpose. And, I mean the thing was filled. I decided to invade Nancy's privacy, and looked in her cabinet as well. Same thing. Same thing *udner* the sink, too. I mean, I REALLY hope these girls recycle, because they could fill a landfill toghether if they don't. Now, I like to think I'm pretty masculine, but I'm open to new ideas, too. I cry at movies can match my clothes, so I figured I'd try some of this shit. My highlight have been conditioned as of this morning, so please issue the proper complements the next time you see me, "Hey, murpes." "Hey, dude. What's happening?" "Eh, the same old shit. Hey, I can't help but noticing, your highlights look a little more ... I dunno, conditioned." "Yeah, thanks man. I used some Pantera V-8 motor oil on it. Let's go drink some cheap beer and break things ..." But, as much as I have been educated, I still feel VERY lacking in one large area. I'm still not too clean on this whole "femine hygine" stuff. Yeah, I'm no bio major, but I do have a basic understanding of how the female body and its reproductive system works. But, for the life of me, I can't figure out what half this shit is. Little cloth things that come in delicate pink platic wrappers, that I can't figure out how or where they rest. And tube like things, and pads or many different shapes and sizes. Whatever. But, I will say this - I spilled some beer on the rug last night, and in a mad rush I grabbed whatever I could find to soak it up with. I grabbed ... *something* out of the bathroom, in a geometric shape I had never seen before. It grabbed that beer right out of the carpet, and smelled of violets. I need to get some of these for myself, to clean up after parties. All said and done, I can't wait to get a bathroom of my own again. I have a few items - soap, toothpaste and brush, shaving cream & razors, and my contact stuff. That's about it, I like the ability to be able to pack up and go on a trip inside of 3 seconds. And, I can assure you, I will not have a rug around my toilet. And, be damned sure that I will keep at least ONE magazine on the lid of my toilet for my quality time. All in all, one hell of an experience. But, I'm sure being in a concentration camp was, too, but not one yearned to be repeated. murpes@notsofresh