So you can tell where I am in this cold: I am busy glaring very hard, every time I visit the bathroom, at our bottles of shampoo and conditioner. The natural order of things, where we use more shampoo than conditioner, has been out of line for a couple months now. The conditioner level’s been below the shampoo level for just ages. Like, we’re … all right, maybe only one-sixth through the current bottle of conditioner, but we only just opened the new bottle of shampoo, and I can’t figure what’s going on that we’re conditioning so much more suddenly. Or is it possible we’ve gotten so ahead on shampoo use that we’ve almost lapped the conditioner? Anyway, this is suddenly very important for me to go disapprove of every time I visit the bathroom. And also to explain to my boss why I haven’t got anything done this week.
This would be me, getting my hair cut, and finally feeling comfortable about it when the barber mentions having these nice wireless razors and other electric hair-trimming appliances. I agree how it’s great that he can have all this stuff and not have those dense clouds of tangled wires that could themselves use some kind of wire combing device. I express curiosity what’s happened that barber-shop equipment manufacturers can make these devices now, when they would surely have been at least as popular ten years ago. He doesn’t know. I agree I don’t know. We retire from the field, tied. I tip $4 on a $16 bill and am glad the base charge wasn’t, like, $17 or $18 that would make a fair tip awkward.
Tomorrow, I project applying forty times the amount of shampoo which my hair could use.
I got my hair cut recently. It’s part of the routine progress of my appearance. I let my hair and, particularly, beard grow out until I look like a Civil War reenactor who wants to play Torgo. Then it comes time to look more respectable. By “respectable” I mean “more like a mechanical pencil, somehow”. Anyway, this was like a week and a half ago, so I’ve finally got my shampoo use to be not quite so much that I’m a pillar of Ocean Breeze-scented goo even after fifteen minutes of rinsing. I think this is progress?
I still have no mental model of how to react when the barber asks if I want my eyebrows trimmed.
Also, yes, I remember that the official centennial of Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! is this Wednesday, the 19th. I don’t know if any great fuss is going to be made. I’d be surprised if John Graziano didn’t make that the focus of the day’s strip. It’s maybe the third comic strip to reach a centennial, and it’s the second-oldest comic strip still doing original work.
So if you’re like me, and I think you are, when you go to a hotel you use the tiny bottles of shampoo they give there? And in those circumstances there’s plenty of shampoo to clean your hair using that little dabby dot that you get out of that? And it’s not a large dot. It’s about half the size of a tear, if a tear were half the size of the dot of shampoo you get out of that bottle. And somehow this little blop of shampoo, that’s less than one-quarter of the size of itself, is plenty. And yet at home it takes way more shampoo. I mean, I get the cheap shampoo, because I never look at myself so I have no idea my hair looks like that, so it’s easy to do this. I’ll use enough shampoo to cover myself to a depth of eight feet, and still wonder if I need to repeat. (No.) So there’s clearly some difference in hair-cleaning pressure between hotel showers and home showers and I just think there’s some way to exploit this to make a new and very clean, manageable, vibrant, and bouncy source of power.
While I’m busy you can read my mathematics-comics stuff over on the other blog. That’s content, so that’s exactly as good as something here.
PS: Um … Okay, so, no, this shampoo power thing won’t work. Sorry for the inconvenience.
We held the yard sale, and easily raised enough money to pay for supplies for the next yard sale, when we decide we can’t put off holding one any longer for some reason. My love’s parents came up the night before, to bring and price stuff they wanted to sell, and they stayed the night. So the night before we had this conversation with my love’s father:
“Do you have hair shampoo in your bathroom?” he asked.
“As opposed to rug shampoo?” asked my love.
“Yes, I just wanted to know if you have shampoo for washing your hair.”
“We have. There’s a bottle of … blue … with conditioner, and there’s another that’s yellow that’s shampoo and conditioner in one.,” I said.
“OK. Well, I don’t need it, because I took care of my hair already.”
And there the topic ended, and I suddenly knew what it was like the week Vic and Sade was written by George S Kaufman.
In point of fact, the yellow bottle turns out to be just conditioner, for some bottle of yellow-colored shampoo we didn’t buy, and don’t think that hasn’t been bothering me relentlessly since I discovered my mistake Sunday morning.
So a modern-day genie can’t find an oil lantern and so takes up the first bottle available. It’s a shampoo bottle. Now, the genie’s all right with granting wishes and all that, except they come out all goopy and in need of a rinse and maybe conditioning. Also, the bottle-owner can always get a little bit more out of a wish by standing the bottle upside-down for a few minutes, as long as it doesn’t slip on the wet surface. And I’m not sure about this part but there may be an enchanted loofah.
Well, if you can’t do anything with that, I talk some more about mathematically-themed comic strips over on my mathematics blog. You can use that, surely.
My love and I don’t go for the expensive shampoo. We like our hair, it’s just we don’t see the advantage of paying Big Shampoo more than we need to for it. And then Meijer’s went and put Suave on sale. Suave already comes in bottles of up to 282 English ale gallons, for a suggested retail price of “the lint-covered coins you dig out from under the car seat when you didn’t know there was a toll coming up”. And then Meijer’s went and put it on sale. Three dollars off if you buy at least ten dollars’ worth of Suave.
What I’m saying is we’ve been able to build a little winter house out back entirely of bottles of Ocean Breeze and Waterfall Mist and Almond Verbena-scented hair care products. And that’s after re-insulating the attic with conditioner. Which should be a gift that keeps on giving in case the squirrels get back in there and try to nest. We’ll know if we get squirrels with well-managed tail fur, I suppose.
Also I’m not perfectly convinced that “verbena” is a thing. It sounds a little like an obscure grammatical construct or Zippy the Pinhead’s girlfriend or something. Advice on this point is welcome.
I want to feel excited. The last big shopping trip we did, we used up all the coupons left in our little plastic folder of coupons. All that remains in it are some receipts with the codes we got after telling companies’ web sites how the shopping experience was and a loyalty card for the carousel ride at the Freehold Raceway Mall food court in Freehold, New Jersey. Being able to use up all the coupons we had feels like we should have unlocked a new achievement, like, “Market-Driven Consumer Capitalism Temporarily Bested: Plus 1”. But deep down I know what it really means is we let an offer of 50 cents off two packs of Sargento cheese sticks expire without noticing it in the middle of May.
We forgot to buy shampoo.
I could just shower again and do it right this time, but then I start to worry that I’m using way too much soap.
I was aware getting my hair cut would have consequences. It always does. The most important is that I don’t have two-thirds of my disposable income going to shampoo purchases anymore. But there’s always this period after the haircut where I’m still slathering on shampoo as if I had the former medicine ball full of hair, and that’s maybe 2,038 times the shampoo I actually need, so the rest goes into foam manufacture.
What I’m saying is, yes, I’m aware that there’s a mass of shampoo-bubble-foam the volume of an Olympic swimming pool that’s escaped from the bathroom and is making its way up West Shiawassee Street, grabbing cars and mopping them clean before setting the baffled drivers back on their way. I’ll deal with it.