Down the rabbit hole and into the loo

My windows are still open, and it's close to 70 degrees before noon, in Buffalo, on the last Sunday in November. 

I'll get outside later, promise. The Bills game is blacked out, so unless I can find Slingbox software and a helpful Slingbox-using friend in Jacksonville in the next 20 minutes or so, there's not much to do inside today, anyway.

Right now, that's the problem. It's my fourth straight day off of work, unheard of for my usually busy brain. If that sounds like party time, it isn't, since the humdrum payment of bills has left me with about one and a half nickels to rub together until some deals get done this week. So there's not much else to do in here but read, eat, and look around the bathroom to see what new oddities have accumulated in there.

Yes, I'm afraid it's time for another of Ray's Missions of Mercy into the Beauty Section of the medicine cabinet.  I did one of these a year or so ago, but these are ::shudder:: all new!

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At the top of the list, what else? The hair. Now sitting close to the sink is something I hadn't seen until this weekend: something called

( Ion Color Defense )

I had no idea our bathroom had become such a battleground for weapons of hair destruction. "Gray five to gray leader! Locking in coordinates on target roots!" "Gray leader to gray five! Abort mission! Target is using Color Defense system!" 

Does the smell of all that air-war mortar fire get in the way of your morning aromatherapy? Is that what's bothering you, bunky? No problem. We got that solved:

( Neutra Air )

If these exchanges of weaponry continue in there, I'm going to have to get in on the action, just for the sake of science. I'm considering breaking into a pharmacy, grabbing some fertility drugs, spraying spermicide on them and watching them fight it out.

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Next, an already sore spot: the peppermint soap.  I've already made my feelings on this stuff quite clear: Get. It. Awayfromme. Yet before today my contact with the product was always on the used end. This morning, I had occasion to inspect one of the bottles whence it came:

( Dr. Bronner's 18-in-1 Hemp Peppermint Soap )

Damn, there's an awful lot of fine print for an all-natural all-organic product, nyuh?  Here's a brief reading from the Book of Bronner, just the first line of tiny type on the label (trust me, there's plenty more Vogon poetry I'm sparing you):

Absolute cleanliness is Godliness! Who else but God gave man Love that can spark mere dust to life! Poetry, uniting All-One! All brave! All life! Who else but God! Harmful if swallowed!

(Okay, I stuck that last one in there, although come to think of it God probably WOULD be harmful if swallowed.)

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This bathroom gets so busy, the occasional mishap will occur. Spills along with the chills and thrills. We got your back there, too:

( Carbona Stain Roller )

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Lastly, a confession. I am not immune to this craze. Indeed, yesterday, I made my own unique and frightening contribution to it. The razor was getting a little gimpy, especially in those hard to reach see chin areas, and the commercials have been relentless, so I went out and got me one of these bad boys:

( Gillette Fusion )

I suppose next I should report on what the wine bottles in the kitchen say. No, ossifer, I haven't been into them. Yet.