“Oh, you use shower gel now?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “And I recently discovered I’ve been using it wrong. With a washcloth.”
“And how did you discover you were using it wrong?” I asked.
“When I was at my Dad’s house, I used his poufy thing,” he explained.
“And it got all sudsy, right?” I prodded.
“Yeah. And I thought to myself, ‘wow’,” he continued. “It worked so much better. They’re supposed to be good for your skin, too.”
I laughed and joked that we should buy him a nice pink one.
We proceeded to the toiletries section of the store, where, after settling on some manly, Old Spice shower gel, we walked up and down each aisle looking for the poufs. I can never find those damned things in Walmart when I need one. They keep them in the weirdest places.
Finally, we turned the corner into the last aisle and there were four pouf boxes. All lined up nice and neatly. All empty. Save for one.
Eric stopped, groaned aloud and said, “Aw, man. You jinxed me.”
I couldn’t help but crack up laughing.
In that one box was one pouf. A bright pink one.
I have a sort of loud, obnoxious laugh. A Walmart worker, who was standing nearby looked at us to see what was up.
She looked at Eric with pity and said something like, “I know, that’s the only one left.”
I was still laughing of course.
“Oh well, just buy it. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, knowing I’d rush right home and tell the world via this Blog.
At least he was a good sport about it and let me take pictures to share, too.
