rex's holiday memories: festivus 1997
This was the year Sister Camino got me some Rogaine as a gag gift. Yes, we all had a good laugh at that one and then I cried a little on the inside and then we broke out the booze. Good times.
Anyway, I stuck it in the back of my medicine cabinet and didn’t think anything of it until some months later when I came across the bottle while digging around for a band-aid or some codeine. It then struck me that I could give it a try. She probably spent fifty bucks on the stuff, which is fifty more than I would’ve paid, and so I essentially had a free month’s supply and nothing to lose. Thus began my month of Rogaine.
Did it work? Well, it may have just been a placebo effect, but I certainly thought I saw more foliage returning to Cabeza Camino. It also seemed to have bolstered the defenses battling to preserve my now absent hairline. So, yes, I suppose I found it to be an effective product that delivered on its advertising.
So did I then continue using the product? Hell no. I wouldn’t have continued with it if I had been presented with a lifetime supply and a guarantee that I would soon have a strong and thick mane of Sideshow Bob hair. There are two reasons for this.
1. The stuff smelled just like vodka.
2. It itched like the sweet love of a hobo, yet the wearer was not allowed to scratch under any circumstance.
That second one began to threaten my otherwise strong grip on sanity. I applied the Rogaine each morning just out of the shower and then spent the next few hours trying to devise a way to scratch my scalp without touching it in any way. This consisted mostly of furrowing my brow, raising my eyebrows alternately, wiggling my ears, or in any other way attempting in vain to flex the top half of my head. This was unsuccessful and only served to make the itch greater while causing alarm in those around me. I was asked:
1. Are you okay?
2. Are you prone to seizures?
3. Could it be a stroke?
4. Are you coming on to me?
5. Why do you smell like gin and vodka?
Anyway, I got some hair back, I think, but it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t even go the full month and wound up throwing about half the bottle away.
Anyway, I stuck it in the back of my medicine cabinet and didn’t think anything of it until some months later when I came across the bottle while digging around for a band-aid or some codeine. It then struck me that I could give it a try. She probably spent fifty bucks on the stuff, which is fifty more than I would’ve paid, and so I essentially had a free month’s supply and nothing to lose. Thus began my month of Rogaine.
Did it work? Well, it may have just been a placebo effect, but I certainly thought I saw more foliage returning to Cabeza Camino. It also seemed to have bolstered the defenses battling to preserve my now absent hairline. So, yes, I suppose I found it to be an effective product that delivered on its advertising.
So did I then continue using the product? Hell no. I wouldn’t have continued with it if I had been presented with a lifetime supply and a guarantee that I would soon have a strong and thick mane of Sideshow Bob hair. There are two reasons for this.
1. The stuff smelled just like vodka.
2. It itched like the sweet love of a hobo, yet the wearer was not allowed to scratch under any circumstance.
That second one began to threaten my otherwise strong grip on sanity. I applied the Rogaine each morning just out of the shower and then spent the next few hours trying to devise a way to scratch my scalp without touching it in any way. This consisted mostly of furrowing my brow, raising my eyebrows alternately, wiggling my ears, or in any other way attempting in vain to flex the top half of my head. This was unsuccessful and only served to make the itch greater while causing alarm in those around me. I was asked:
1. Are you okay?
2. Are you prone to seizures?
3. Could it be a stroke?
4. Are you coming on to me?
5. Why do you smell like gin and vodka?
Anyway, I got some hair back, I think, but it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t even go the full month and wound up throwing about half the bottle away.
However, I don’t know why, but there is a part of me that always wants to buy some just to slip into our angel tree bags at Christmas.
posted by Rex L. Camino at 7:30 AM
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