Help, My Boyfriend is a Squidger!
Cleanliness is Next to Godliness of Tottenham writes: Dear Westie, my new boyfriend is a squidger.
I showered at his place for the first time recently and, as I reached for the soap, recoiled in horror as I turned the bar over in my hand only to find that squidged onto the underside of this new bar of Imperial Leather was a sliver of old soap. It wasn’t even the same colour! Who does that? How can he expect to clean himself if he’s smushing dirty old soap up against a new piece? I nearly dry retched. This isn’t normal is it? Is he a cheapskate? Why would he do this? How can I ever shower there again? Is the relationship salvageable?
Woah, CINTGOT. I wish I could sugar soap this for you, but I can’t. Yes, there is a big problem here, but it has nothing to do with your boyfriend and everything to do with you. Why? Because you are, to put it as simply as I can, The Queen of the Froot Loops. Have you seen what’s happening in the world right now? Your problem is so niche, it leaves the first world (in terms of problems) for dead. Yours is a problem for a future utopia wherein every other problem in the world has been solved and we all live in peace and harmony and all we have to worry about is how many fluffy bunny rabbits we each have frolicking in our flower meadows.
So unreal is your ‘problem’ that I am ashamed on behalf of you for raising it in the first place. Doing so mocks the social welfare-state mindset that drives what we do here at Dear Westie. In fact, I’m only including your piece here to illustrate to our readers the kind of nonsense we have to put up with on a regular basis.
But seriously.
How can soap be dirty? Soap is the opposite of dirty. Two soaps smushed together is twice the clean of two soaps apart – it’s simple mathematics. Now, if there was a dirty-great curly hair sandwiched between the two pieces of soap, then you’d have a point, but you make no mention of this, so I assume it’s not relevant.
What is relevant is your obvious and dire need of a reality check.
Do one.
From last edition
In last month’s Dear Westie, we blew people away with our discussion of the dreaded leaf blower. To say that our mail sacks were stuffed full like compost bins in autumn, would not even come close to describing the torrent of mail that poured through the postal slot in the Dear Westie door. So large was the pile of mail that we couldn’t wade through it. Luckily we were able to borrow one of those leaf blower things from next door. It carved a way through that pile in no time! They’re powerful ain’t they? Must get one for home.
If anything in this column has raised issues for you, or if there’s anything else you’d like to get off your chest, write to Westsider Editor editor@thewestsider.com.au
