Monday, January 5, 2015

I confess. I killed my Floofie!!!

There's nothing like starting a new year with the terrible realization that you are, in fact, a Serial Killer!!!  Now truthfully, to look at me, you don't automatically think "Oh God, call the FBI, this woman's a serial killer." At least I hope not, although if I'm not wearing makeup and haven't had my hair done in a couple of months you could be forgiven for the mistake . But the sad fact remains...I discovered this weekend, that I am...without question...a serial killer.

I killed my THIRD FLOOFIE IN A ROW!!!

Now in case you're not sure what a floofie is, it's this. I'm not even sure that's the correct name for it,
and I had no idea what to call it, until my writing Partner, the inimitable Scott Carpenter, wrote a scene in one of our stories and referred to the stuff a woman keeps in the shower. (I think his hero was playing with some of it. LOL) Anyway, I asked him what the hell a floofie was. And from that point on, these things were floofies. (Floofii? Not sure what the plural should be...grammar fiends please advise!)

Their construction is somewhat of a mystery to me. They must be fiber. Perhaps they're recycled soda bottles, which would be a good and green thing and I'd feel less embarrassed about the amount of soda I have imbibed over my lifetime. I reckon from here to Alpha Centauri ought to about cover that. Sigh.

Perhaps they are some kind of fabric. The kind that has a half life greater than plutonium and will surely linger on Earth long enough to choke the next iteration of dinosaurs to extinction. Who knows? Well, I guess floofie makers do. Google probably does as well, but thus far I haven't been sufficiently motivated to check it out.

However, this killing thing. Well, I enjoy a good floofie in the shower. (Shut up you pervs. LOL) And I had a favorite floofie that remained a staunch buddy for what seemed like a generation. Then, at the end of last summer, it finally passed on to its reward. It gently disintegrated into small loops, each sadder than the last, drifting in silent farewell to my shower floor.  I admit to a tear or two as I said a sorry goodbye, unable to restore it to anything resembling a floofie.

So, after a suitable period of mourning (about a day and a half) I immediately replaced my beloved with a brand new, breathtakingly pink, enthusiastic new floofie.  We scrubbed happily, and I looked forward to sharing more years with my new cheerful body buddie. Then, to my utter shock, within six weeks... it died!!!

Not only did it just die, it died horribly, becoming in its death throes something more akin to the offspring of an octopus and a band aid, wrapping itself around my slender naked limbs (okay, so I write fiction, live with it!) and attempting to take me with it to the Great Floofie Beyond.

So I did the "lather, rinse, repeat" again, new floofie (white this time) and what happened this weekend? Yep. Attempted Strangulation By Cleansing Accessory. Once again I had succeeded in killing a floofie. It looked something like this. Only white and a bit smaller. Like by a factor of a thousand.

I looked down at the pale lashings of whatever-that-stuff-is, as they firmly gripped whatever part of my body they could. I discovered that there are some parts you don't want floofies lashed to, by the way. The more I struggled to free myself, the more it clung to me...a bittersweet last gasp at the life it had known in my shower. But I, in my furious serial killer frenzy, was having none of it.

The battle was fierce but brief, and shortly thereafter yet another floofie was consigned to Floofie Heaven.  What's next? It would seem that I could risk killing another floofie and try a blue one, accepting that they now have a much shorter lifespan than I'd previously experienced, and ready for the attack-by-floofie whenever it strikes.

Or I could go out and buy the most luxurious spa-approved sea sponge and turn my back on floofies forever.

OR...does anyone know Tom Hiddleston's phone number? Since I'm now a serial killer, I figure a super-villian like Loki in my shower would work just fine! ;)

Cheers,
The "At Least You Know I'm Clean" Sahara

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