Don’t Knock The Pump

I don’t remember when it happened. Must have been when I was out of college and dropping fifteen bucks on a bottle of soap didn’t require eating Top Ramen for a month.


At some point I got tired of picking up a cold, wet bar of soap each morning. No matter how I tried to store my soap it ended up in a puddle of frigid, cloudy water. Forget the fancy little soap trays. They are like little wading pools for your bar of Dove.

I saw this bottle of Clinique Liquid Facial Soap one day at Nordstrom and decided to give it a try. The women dressed in white lab coat with impeccable skin and hair tried to steer me towards the line of men’s products in the ugly grey containers.

But I wanted the soap in the translucent green bottle. I bought it and haven’t used anything since.

The soap is dispensed through a pump. No more fishing for a cold one each morning.

How unmanly is that?

Back to watching Sex and the City reruns.

2 thoughts on “Don’t Knock The Pump

  1. I got Lance on a skincare regimine. It’s been working out well. That, and his good genes preserving his boyish looks.

    Have a faux-tini for me!


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