Okay, this takes a while to explain, but I have everyone’s best interests at heart. You should be grateful that I don’t get embarrassed, as if I did I may never have enriched your lives, and averted potential catastrophe with this tale.
Tonight, while showering, I ran out of my usual bar soap. My girlfriend has a big bottle of that Dr. Bronner’s peppermint soap (hereafter referred to as “Liquid Evil”), so I thought “What the hell, it smells okay, not perfumey at all, so I’ll give it a try.” RIGHT!
(For anyone interested, Dr. Bronner was a health nut who preached his own religious faith. And I mean NUT-completely looney. His nonsense rantings like “All God One Faith” and “WE’RE ONE! ALL ONE! EXCEPTIONS ETERNALLY? NONE! ABSOLUTE NONE!” are all over the bottle. That should have been clue #1, but I digress. Hey, it’s popular soap. Lay off.)
After shampooing, but before rinsing, I carefully lathered my (ahem) nether regions, soaped my legs, and then applied a generous amount to my feet. I’d been barefoot all day and figured they could use it. Well folks, Dr. Bronner’s Liquid Evil, when applied to ones (ahem) nether regions, BURNS LIKE NAPALM. I began feeling what started off as a nice tingle, but in oh-point-three seconds turned into “Peppermint Hell”. So, I started doing what my girl now calls the “Dr. Bronner Peppermint Soap Dance”, which ironically looks EXACTLY like the “I’ve Got Tiger Balm On My Balls Dance”.
In addition to burning like the fires of Hell, Dr. Bronner’s Liquid Evil apparently makes one hell of an industrial lubricant. I felt my toes involuntarily flex and fight for purchase on the tub floor. Now I know what you’re saying to yourself: “Soap is slippery, DUH!” You don’t get it. This stuff is slicker than Teflon. You could use it as an oil treatment in your car.
You can probably see where this is going. The combination of soaped feet, burning balls and (ahem) nether region, coupled with my own cursing of Dr. Bronner as a plague unto mankind caused me to pitch ass-over-teakettle into the tub. (Note to self-your head is NOT as resilient as cast-iron.) The resulting sound sent the cats scurrying downstairs for cover.
I lay there still being sprayed by the unforgiving showerhead and laughed hysterically at the absurdity of the situation. A thought occurred to me: "How do I explain this to HER?" Just then, my girlfriend threw the shower curtain aside, took one look at me laying in the tub and asked “What the hell are you doing?”
This never happened with Ivory.