2003 was the year it happened. I was 24, younger than you are now. But times were different then, I was a man at that age: the manager of a TGI Friday's just south of New Orleans. I had lost my wife to the love of a reality TV star, and she and the reality TV star had been in Los Angeles less than half a year. I would have been happy to join them. I couldn't bear the pain of her loss. I longed to be released from it. I wanted to lose it all... my Pontiac, my studio apartment, my sanity. Most of all, I longed for death. I know that now. I invited it. A release from the pain of living. My invitation was open to anyone. To the whore at my side. To the whore at my side. To the pimp that followed. But it was Lestat that accepted it.
Now, Lestat was an odd fellow, to say the least. He had the complexion of Christina Aguilera's makeup-caked forehead, and looked a lot like Tom Cruise, only a little more gay, if that's even possible. Anyway, Lestat was a decent dude, he did his drinking alone, mostly Rose or boxed Chardonnay, and sometimes over the steaming plate of some potato skins or jalapeno popper, ranted in his sing-song voice, often quoting some ancient scripture that nobody had heard of in a hundred years. A few times he got his ass handed to him by a fat tourist clutching a Hurricane glass with beads dangling from their neck. But most of the time patrons left him alone.
But one seemingly ordinary night, our relationship changed forever. Lestat closed down the bar, pounding mud slides and stuffing his face with our new sizzlin' shrimp, and asked me if he could hang around while I cleaned up. I told him I was flattered, but wasn't interested in any sort of the "gay business," but he put his hands defensively and said, You have me all wrong, dear friend, for I enjoy the company of women." I said, "Yeah sure you do, dude, whatever," and continued on with my work.
After a few quiet moments, Lestat turned to me and asked, "How would you like to live forever?"
I laughed him off, attributing the statement to the mudslides, and began rinsing the pint glasses. But Lestat repeated himself, and did so a third time when I returned his statement with silence. Then, as if sensing my complete and utter dismissal to his questioning, he stood up, turned to face me behind the bar, and shot fireworks out of his fingers! It was the craziest thing I had ever seen. Then he ran up the wall like he was Jean-Claude Van Damme, and did a few break dance moves...WHILE SUSPENDED UPSIDE DOWN. Needless to say, I was a little shocked. So when Lestat returned to his bar stool, I obviously was willing to hear him out. He told me there was one way for me to "live forever" and began to creep closer to me as he listed the rules...
Anyway, I'm rambling here. Long story short, when you're an immortal, you grow your hair long (it's a culture thing) and when you have long, flowing hair, you need a trustworthy shampoo. And this right here is a trustworthy shampoo, so I decided to buy twelve cases of it so I won't have to worry about shampoo again until sometime in the 23rd century. So that's one less thing I have to worry about.
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I've been using these Buf-Puf pads for a long time, but they seem to have less cleanser in them than they used to. In the past, they got very foamy once you wet them, but these have very little foam/soap. I have to add a seperate cleansing product to get them to work properly. They're great for exfoliation, but I'm not sure if I got a bad box or they changed the formula, but they're just okay.
