having had my recent fill of controversy and strife, i decided i'd go for something totally innocuous for this week's monday night i'll-regret-it-later drunken blogpost.
tonight i've elected to talk about irish spring, because it's my soap--and truly, what could be less controversial than that?
[unless i confess this to a homogay, of course; then it's all, "i can't believe you allow that vile, poisonous shit to even touch your skin--what kinda fag are you, anyway?".
which is nothing compared to the reaction i get when it comes out that not only is irish spring my body wash, it's also my facial soap, exfoliating scrub, shaving cream, moisturizer, shampoo and conditioner; hell, if i could use it to brush my teeth, wash my dishes and lube up my boys--and don't think i haven't tried--i'd be set for life.
but, as usual, i digress.]
it's not that i'm that crazy about irish spring per se; on the contrary, i use it for a reason that has nothing to do with my personal preferences (and the fact that it's kind of a pathetic reason makes it no less valid--at least, that's what i tell myself).
here's the deal: i use irish spring because when i get outta the shower, the aroma wafting off of my moist, freshly irish-springed body drives my cat wild with desire.
there, i said it--and that's the first step, right?
i remember the first time it happened: i'm walking around post-hot/cold shower, air-drying as usual, and the cat--aloof under the best of circumstances--is suddenly winding herself around my legs in ecstatic little figure-eights. and i'm thinking, what the fuck--she never does this unless i'm about to feed her, and only then if she's really hungry.
and then all of a sudden she jumps up on the desk (which i happen to be standing next to) and starts rubbing her face all over my stomach, purring like a 747 preparing for takeoff.
at first totally mystified by this unprecedented display of affection, i eventually figure out it's gotta be the irish spring soap i just bought at the 99-cent store--shit must be acting like catnip on her.
to test this theory, i sit down at the desk and instantly she's all over me, rubbing and pawing, begging to be petted, licking my hair and purring like crazy--acting, in other words, like a cat that actually gives a rat's ass for a change. whole thing went on for at least ten minutes, and we both walked away exhausted.
and next time i get outta the shower? sure as shit, she's on the desk, tail flicking back and forth, waiting for me. and in spite of myself, i'm drawn to the chair, i sit down and, god help me, we go at it again.
and ever since, it's become our little thing, and we both enjoy it--and if it takes my continued use of a harsh, toxic, artificially-scented antibacterial soap to provide a contact-high to my otherwise standoffish little cat, it's a small price to pay, right?
please say yes.
10 comments:
Well, shit - least ya bathe...
can't say i blame her..
i was going to 'ewww gross, you use crappy soap' you, but then i caught a whiff of the twink at work today.
irish spring is leaps and bounds better than not. a. damned. thing.
Eeeewwww...
Actually Judi...some of us like that not bathing thing.
As for the Irish Spring, ya know, I have never understood why anyone would have a cat anyway that you would have to coat your body with something so vile to get a little bit of attention.
If you want attention from your dog, you just call him over...or, more accurately, tell the dog playtime is over now after 16 hours.
luis: and each day i count it as a major accomplishment.
yhm: yeah, but you're biased ;)
judi what, the twink doesn't bathe? tell him nobody's that cute.
noblesavage: if i could wave a wand and turn her into a dog, i would; until that happens, i will have to bribe my cat to love me--and irish spring is the coin of the realm.
The things we do for our cats! And we do these things voluntarily, even obsessively, just for their approval and affection. Just whose "companion animal" belongs to whom?
PS--I couldn't live without at least one cat in my life.
will: it's true--and even though i grumble from time to time, i'm pretty fond of mine too.
yeah, I love my boys too--in spite of constantly waking up with cat ass in my face.
Savage: I loved the smell of my husband's 'dirtiness' after a hard day of sweaty work, so I hear ya, but malevolent funk is malevolent funk.
Mikey: see above, and let it be known I will no longer let him hug me.
I hear tell of a dog that runs and hides under the bed when his master uses a certain cologne. Who really knows what messages we are sending our animal friends with our chosen smells?
I just know that I like the in-between malevolent funk (love that term and am hereby appropriating it for my own) and "whiff of the twink." Again, love that term etc.
I'm honored that you like my verbiage, and that you want to use them, 'cause I swear since I moved to Texas 'I don't talk good no more'.
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