I don’t have a good poof and it’s all my fault.
August 7th, 2010 | by TJ |
Phil’s poof and my poof-let.
Above, you can see our shower washer thinger doodads, commonly known as “poofs.” (Poofs? Pooves? Pooves.) As you can plainly tell, one poof is vastly superior to the other poof. This was not always the case. Let me tell you the terribly interesting story of how I came to have such a crap poof.
No, seriously. That’s what I’m writing about today.
Back before I met Phil, I was ignorant in the ways and variations of the body poof. I had a parade of pooves much like the one pictured on the right above, and thought nothing more of it.
Then I met Phil. Some decent and respectable time after meeting Phil, I met his poof. Phil’s poof was like no poof I had ever seen before. It was like the one above on the left, but a little bit softened with use. It was basically the most perfect poof I had ever seen in all of my poofing days.
Shortly after moving in together, it became one of my many, many goals in life to find a poof just like Phil’s. Though I tried many different types of pooves over time, none ever matched up to Phil’s poof.
Phil, seeing my struggle to emulate him in poofness, refused to throw his poof away, even as it got soggy and flaccid. Why would he, knowing the agony I was suffering in my quest for perfect poofery?
One day, though, at the BX, I saw it. Nestled amongst several other bins of generic, substandard pooves, was a pile of pooves, and a label indicating that they were gauze pooves.
Gauze.
And so I had my poof. And Phil had a new poof, because he no longer needed to live in fear of a life with inferior poof. And all was good in the Land of Shower.
Then I went to Pennsylvania. I went to Pennsylvania and my checked bag weighed 50.0 lbs, narrowly escaping extra charges.
As someone travelling on a budget – not the “haggle with vendors for native art at charming roadside stands” kind of budget, but more like the “I’ll just have water” or “Nah, I think I’m going to read a library book in my parents’ un-air conditioned guest room tonight, thanks” kind of budget – avoiding extra charges is pretty much my credo.
Anyway, since it was so close on the way there, I decided to leave a few things at my parents’ place, knowing I’d be back in September to start to get ready for the wedding. I left some shoes, some books, and my shampoo, conditioner & body wash, planning to just replace them at home and then not bring them when I came out the next time.
What I did not intend to leave was my gauze puff (or my face wash, but, you know, these things happen). No matter, though. We went to the BX the day after I got home, to replace all of my left-behind items, so as to avoid the stink. When we arrived at the appropriate aisle, however – NO GAUZE POOVES. ONLY CRAP POOVES.
Oh, gauze poof! Our time together was so brief!
I did not want a crap poof. I told Phil I would just use a washcloth. That I would wash with my hands like some kind of heathen or, worse, dude who hasn’t had a girlfriend that introduced him to poof-based washing. However, being the sensible one, and seeing that a CRAP POOF only cost a dollar (rightfully, because they’re CRAP), he insisted that we buy one.
FINE, I told him, but only until we found a gauze poof somewhere else.
I washed with my CRAP POOF yesterday, all the while staring hatefully at his full, lush gauze poof, just hanging there like it wasn’t even a magical poof.
Last night, we found ourselves out running unnecessary errands (sometimes I just like to be outside of the house) and what should I spy in the bath products aisle? GAUZE POOVES.
What do you think I did, Internet?
If you guessed that I snatched up 80 quality gauze pooves and, clutching them tightly to my chest, made haste to the Wal-Mart check out as though the hounds of hell pursued me, thus ensuring that with a small upfront expenditure, I would never again suffer the scrapings of a wretched CRAP POOF, hi, have we met?
If you guessed that I ran excitedly to Phil, informed him of the presence of said gauze pooves, and instructed him to remember their location for next time, as I had just spent ONE ENTIRE DOLLAR on an admittedly CRAP but still serviceable poof just the day before, on TOP of the fact that Phil had convinced me to purchase the good shampoo (Pantene instead of Suave! PANTENE! (there was a coupon)), you have either been reading this blog too long, or you, too, come up with new, interesting and ridiculously twisted methods of self-punishment on a daily basis, extending but not limited to refusing to allow yourself a $1.47 purchase to replace the inferior $1 purchase made just 24 hours earlier.
So, today, I showered, washing with my CRAP POOF and staring hatefully at Phil’s full, lush gauze poof, just hanging there like it’s not even a magical poof. And I shall continue to shower, washing with my CRAP POOF and staring hatefully at Phil’s full, lush gauze poof, hanging there like it’s not even a magical poof, until I feel as though I have gotten enough use out of my ONE DOLLAR PURCHASE to justify its replacement with the $1.47 poof of my dreams.
By BKC on Aug 7, 2010
While, clearly, it IS all your fault that you HAVE a crap poof, I think staring at the magical poof is only going to make you miserable. Besides, what if the crap one lasts FOREVER and then when you go back for a gauze one, they’re all gone?! Quelle horreur!
I shall FedEx you a dollar, and then you can go dig through Phil’s pockets for the 47 cents. Boys always have bucketfulls of change in their pockets. What’s up with that?
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By Chaninn on Aug 7, 2010
No,no, no, no! What you do is get the gauze poof and store your crap poof in case of emergencies. (Just like when you came home to no-poof-ness) That way you can have your poof, in the closet, and have your poof in the shower too!
See, all better and no staring hatefully at Phil’s poof.
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By Ashley on Aug 7, 2010
I am currently the proud owner of a CRAP POOF myself, having recently used up all the magic in my full, lush, magical poof. I just tweeted about it the other day: http://twitter.com/ashleyb1182/status/19988595788
I think we might be kindred spirits.
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By Friday on Aug 7, 2010
Geeze. I’m thinking I need to go to Wal-Mart and buy you a couple dozen gauze poofs and send them as a wedding present.
Why do you torture yourself like this? Chaninn is right. Make the crap poof your emergency, back-up, I-left-my-gauze-poof-in-Scranton poof and hide it under your sink. Then go buy a couple good poofs to celebrate your return home! (The couple extra being for guests, right? >.> Right.)
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By Julie on Aug 7, 2010
I actually quite like crap poofs (admittedly that’s all I’ve ever seen). Saves on body scrub :)
But yeah, if I wanted the other kind, I’d damn well buy the other kind, EVEN IF I’d just bought a crap one 2 minutes earlier. Heck, I’d buy 10 of the other kind just in case.
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By Bernie on Aug 8, 2010
When you wash with a poof, what is the first body part that gets washed? when you wash with a poof what is the last body part that gets washed? Do they both get washed with the same poof?
I use two hand towels when I take a shower/bath.
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By Kelly on Aug 8, 2010
I had the same thought as @Friday, and it’s possible other people did as well, so you may wind up with a gross of gauze pooves. Unless, of course, I tossed away your address after the Great Magnet Gifting episode.
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By Shelli on Aug 8, 2010
That is quite a story. I completely understand! I currently have the crappiest of all pooves. Why, you say? Because mine doesn’t even have a string to hold it. It has a round loop of more poof. It sucks. It doesn’t work like a string would work. Plus, it’s just dumb. It’s already coming apart and I haven’t had it that long. I think I’m going to get a new poof today in your honor.
Here from BlogHer@Home.
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By Shin Ae on Aug 8, 2010
I find all poofs to be horrifying. My husband loves a good poof, though, and a nice one wasn’t always so easy to find. Affordable luxury, TJ. Take advantage.
Could the crap poof be used on the dogs? I know nothing about bathing dogs…
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By Mel on Aug 8, 2010
Seriously, I am the only one who thinks you should just use Phil’s? When I am in between poofs (although I have only heard them referred to as loofah’s) I use my husbands.
Is that gross?
Just think of the loofah/poof budget savings!
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Brien Reply:
August 9th, 2010 at 9:33 am
That’s what I thought, too! Although my wife and I just use the same one all the time.
It’s not like a toothbrush, is it? Have I just revealed some sort of nasty practice?
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By Jen_Ann_W on Aug 8, 2010
I have been tempted to make my own poof, since the gauze can be bought at the fabric store for uber-cheap. But being even more cheap than that, I use washcloths now because they were gifts as part of a set of towels and therefore did not cost me a cent. However they suck worse than the cheap pooflet and I never feel quite exfoliated.
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By Jason Doege on Aug 8, 2010
Is using Phil’s Uber-Awesome Poof out of the question?
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By Ale on Aug 9, 2010
Ask Phil this, isn’t the $1.47 worth it so he can have peaceful days and nights? Because until you have an aceptable poof, he will have to hear about it all the time. My husband would gladly buy all the approved poofs in a store so as not to hear me complaining about not having the best one for the job.
Or does he just think that hearing about the inferior poof is the lesser of two evils as you may think of something else that does not meet your standards. The inferior poof discussion is one he is familiar with therefore he already knows the appropriate answers for most of the discussions involving the poof. If some other new issue took the place of the inferior poof, he would have to work hard until he had new “right” responses.
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By Vronak on Aug 9, 2010
Can a girl get married without the “poof of her dreams”?
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By Delicia on Aug 9, 2010
I swear every time I read you doing something like this (being so money careful as to not replace a $1.00 poof) I get The Guilts, because apparently I’m a horrible spendy person because I’d buy the nice poof without a second thought.
And, it’s funny because we USED to have poofs, at our old house before we moved west. I think they got thrown away, and we never replaced them. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the scrubby clean you get using a poof, and now I think I’ll have to pick one up next time I’m at the store.
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By Franchi on Aug 10, 2010
I say this was a pooftastic post!
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By Dara on Aug 12, 2010
I hate all those poofs, ’cause they are all so poofy! I have a sheet of poof material I use as a kind of uber wash cloth. Same exfoliation, but with more control over where the soap is getting to. It works great! It isn’t $1.47, tho, its $5.99.
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