Caution: Caveman Alert!
What a trip whenever I leave my man cave these days. What my buddies call the ‘Fox Box’. Slang for sports, not news. Fox Sports, FS 1, and FS 2. All lined up on the remote.
I started off in a drug store. I needed to pick up the do-dads that come in handy when you visit the bathroom.
Single males have come a long way. That extra room off to the side came with the apartment. Through a sense of need, I figured out what the stool, sink, and shower is for. Yep, so easy, even a caveman could do it.
Speaking of the ‘Lou’, (I’m a Neanderthal, darn it. We don’t speak French, much less spell it) I get a kick out of the male economy these days. The marketing, the terminology, and our products.
I never heard of a body wash that’s a 3-in-1. Who buys these triple plays? Not just the mixed bag of soap, but the psychology behind it? I picture corporate women in charge of product development looking to get even with every man who did them wrong. Why me?
Body wash. Check.
Body wash that doubles for shampoo? No thanks.
Body wash that triples for shampoo, + conditioner? Stop, you’re killin’ me. (I noticed the +. Yes, caveman like symbol. Easyer then wurds).
Any chance they’ll add a stronger fragrance? Oops. + After shave.
Ladies, you almost had me. I dig citrus. But Citrus Rush? So manly and tempting.
Hot dog — I found the body wash. I also grabbed a stand alone shampoo and get this one, a single conditioner. With three, count ’em, three items in my basket, I dragged my knuckles to footwear.
You know, for slippers. I don’t know how Fred Flinstone and Barney Rubble did it. Walking around barefoot all the time — even in the bowling alley. My father walks around the house barefoot too. He’s 83 and it’s his castle.
When I reached the aisle, I thought I stepped into a slipper factory. No foolin’. Must have been a warehouse of women’s footwear. All sizes, shapes, and styles.
I inquired if there was a separate section for men.
“We don’t carry men’s slippers,” the lady with the red smock said. I paused. It’s not a trick question, even when I’m funny like that.
“Did you run out of slippers or shelf space?” I asked.
“No. We don’t carry men’s slippers,” she repeated. I’m still a male and need things explained (at least repeated before the explanation).
“I bought pairs in this store before,” I said. That’s why I was here. They were moccasins with thick soles and soft fur that felt like a shag carpet. Snug and snazzy. Something you’d find in Saks, not a chain drug store.
“We only carry men’s slippers in the winter.”
Really? I mean, like, for real?
I don’t get it. I’m mystified and can’t stop shaking my head.
When I get home, it’s eBay to the rescue. My slippers are chewed up and on the back nine. (My bad. Minus 2 for male speak and sports analogy). Might squeeze another week out of ‘em until the new pups arrive. (Should have bought a second pair back when).
After my return from the drug store, I had a few errands to run. The dry cleaners for my dress shirts, the library to exchange books. Oh yes. When I read ‘The Outsiders’ back in high school, I was hooked, despite being trapped in the NCM curriculum (Not College Material).
Years ago, my brother and I graduated from Val’s Barber Shop (the caveman cut) and started going to Jimi’s House of Style (notice ‘style’? Are there bonus points for Jimi instead of Jimmy? Do I at least recover my 2 points?).
I get a haircut once a month and am clean shaven everyday, including most off days. Any extra body hair I keep. Not to remind myself of my inner-caveman. It’s a selling point to prove I’m warm and fuzzy. Isn’t it? It was back in the 90s. Told you I wasn’t like other guys.
Oh well, enough of this. Cool as a cucumber — that’s my style. Of course that could change once they start making men’s toothpaste and his toilet paper.