Soap Dope

Ok, I admit it - I'm a 'soap-dropper'. I know it is a flaw and probably comes from 'gnatural' life' and inexperience at keeping clean. It is not that my hands are freakishly small or so silky smooth from lack of physical labor, it's just that slippery soap refuses to be tamed whenever I cry on it from the Dove-stuff left in my eyes while washing my face.

My mistake is I prefer 'bar' soap as opposed to those gelatinous slime squeeze bottles by everyone's sink. Who wants to touch a push pump tub covered in germs just to get at the antibacterial cleaning stuff supposedly hiding inside? That's like dipping a drinking water ladle into some sloppy Serengeti mud hole and expecting to bring up a purified Perrier spritzer to quench my thirst.

I could probably help my plight by simply switching to some of those fancy soaps with a little better tactile grip in the shape of butterflies, seashells, or snails. However I can't stand those creatures touching me in real life much less soapy ones rubbing up next to my vulnerable 'buck-nakey' hide in a dark prison shower. Why can't I get my bar soap with a slip-free velvet coating like you find on fancy gloves, steering wheel covers, or rough-housing rutting deer?

Soap is probably overrated anyway because at my age who am I trying to impress - the marketing departments of AARP and that Funeral Advantage outfit? They say clearly in their geezer-appeal ads 'I don't need a physical examination' to get buried so why die with a grease-free body and bleachy-clean undies? Since I'm as gray and wrinkly as a Botswana elephant anyway, maybe I should resort to warding off the flies just like they do - by 'packing MY dermis' in dust n' mud and leaving behind the bubbly suds.