How conditioner proved Darwin wrong |

How conditioner proved Darwin wrong

Ever had one of those moments that makes you question how it is you have managed to survive to this point?

For me, these moments occur when my self-esteem has reached a level most would consider normal. When I finally get to the point where the things I like about myself are about equal to the things I dislike.

Then ” SLLLLAAAPPPP ” I get whacked across the face with the realization that really there is no way I should have made it to this point.

I came to this realization in the shower the other day.

You see, I am out of conditioner, and I keep meaning to get the bottle from the cabinet and put it in the shower. That would be a total journey of three feet for those playing at home.

Here’s how that scenario plays out:

The alarm goes off, waking up me and any four-legged creatures in the five-mile radius, and I throw back the covers. I turn off the electric blanket and stumble into the bathroom. (For a mental picture, think drunken baby ” OK, full-size ” gorilla learns to walk.)

Approximately one in 5 times, this journey will result in me stubbing my toe, tripping on something, or cracking my head against an ajar door.

A stream of obscenities ensues.

Because my bathroom was designed by a defected communist architect, nothing works like it’s supposed to. The light switches are sideways, with the switch for the fan on top.

I’ve lived there over a year, and not once have I hit the light on the first try.

From there, I hobble into the shower and let the warm water revive me. I wash my face first because touching other parts and then my face ” well, no soap is that strong.

After my face, I look to the corner containing the shampoo and conditioner bottles and realize I again forgot to replace it.

A stream of obscenities ensues.

My neighbors upstairs are convinced I have Tourette’s syndrome.

For about 10 seconds, I contemplate getting out of the shower (warm) into the apartment (bitter, frozen tundra) to get the bottle.

Then the little man in my head laughs, and I say to myself, “Got to remember to do that for tomorrow.”

Then I complete my shower and begin my day.

This little scene has been playing at the Jarid’s Apartment Theater for the last nine days with no signs of stopping.

Do you know what happens to hair with no conditioner for nine days? My normally godlike locks now look like I glued a cafeteria Brillo pad to my head.

So after day nine, I realized that no matter how “with it” I think I am, I’m really lucky that evolution is apparently on vacation, because let’s face it ” I ain’t makin’ the cut.

Then I thought about how it is that someone who can’t figure out why his conditioner runs out significantly faster than his shampoo is still considered a functioning member of society?

SLLLLAAAAPPPPP. There’s the moment.

A stream of obscenities ensues.

So, now very depressed, I put my contacts in, put gel in my hair, shave, put on deodorant, and walk out of the bathroom.

Without getting the conditioner out of the cabinet.

On the plus side, the little boy upstairs is learning some fun new words.

Ever had one of those moments? Tell me about it.

– Jarid Shipley is a reporter for the Nevada Appeal. Contact him a or 881-1217.