September 12, 2012

Brazos Valley Voodoo now with soundtrack

Once upon a time, teenage boys had to run the gauntlet of facing the chemist at the local pharmacy to purchase condoms.  Same thing went for unfortunate teenage girls in need of a pregnancy test.  The late night 7-Eleven clerk was known to cast a jaundiced eye at anyone requesting to purchase the Zig-Zags kept behind the counter, just to the left of the Penthouse magazines.

As a parent, I sure would appreciate some of those products going back behind the counter, if for no other reason than so I don't have to explain, in the middle of the Wal-Mart vitamin aisle, again, that K-Y Warming Jelly isn't for cold feet and hands.  I am curious, though, why eye drops, vitamins, and Ensure shakes share an aisle with sexual products.

Right or wrong, I think there is some value in having to grow a pair and face the scrutiny of the world for the things you want (or need).  I would prefer that teenagers practice safe sex and be well armed to do so, but I see the positives in having to face an adult, other than your parents, and make a purchase that virtually shouts your intentions to defile somebody's sweet baby girl.  If you aren't confident and proud of what you are embarking on, then you shouldn't be doing it anyway.

On the other hand, I have suffered the wrath of a nosy cashier a time or two and, hell, no, it isn't any of their business.  As the wife, mother and primary shopper in our household, I get to take credit for all the embarrassing purchases.  Trying to make conversation to explain that the stool softener is for the dog and the yeast infection medicine is actually for a diaper rash, just comes off as a sad attempt at hiding the real story.  I usually try to throw in a twelve of Shiner and some Chunky Monkey and mention that it is going to be a heck of a Friday night.

A couple of weeks ago, in the pharmacy area of a Bryan, Texas, H-E-B Store, I came across this:

It does a little bit of everything

Now, this was in a little section that had all sorts of different ethnic products.  Creams, powders and things with foreign names.   I was intrigued by the bottle - and then the descriptive "toilet water" label.  It was called Florida Water, and I liked equating it to toilet water, 'cause I am not to fond of Florida, for many reasons.  I Googled it right there in the aisle, and the first thing to pop up mentioned its use in Santeria and voodoo.  Horry Clap!  I put that bottle right back down and looked around.  Who in the hell, in Bryan, Texas, is practicing Santeria and/or voodoo in such frequency that the H-E-B stores carry their devil water?

One thing's for sure, if the cashier knows what that stuff is for, I bet they don't give any commentary when they ring up this purchase.        


Anonymous said...

A portion of my Google search revealed:

For Boudoir Daintiness, a few drops sprinkled in your lingerie drawer, handkerchief-box and clothes closets is lovely and lasting.

kerrcarto said...

Now I'm gonna have Sublime stuck in my head all day.

Harper said...

Anon - I know! The manufacturers website says to do just about everything with it, cure colds, calm nerves, stop insect bite itches, tone muscles. It reminds me of that guy with the Windex in 'My big Fat Greek Wedding'.

Kerrcarto - updated with Sublime, now we both have it stuck in our heads.

CenTexTim said...

This whole thing reminds me of the guy selling snake oil out of the back of a covered wagon in those old westerns.

And I've always wondered who the hell would by a product labelled "toilet water?"