Bouquet of Fermenting 'Nilla Wafers

   I’m a sucker for new stuff. It never, ever, fails especially where our health is concerned.  If Claritin-D does a swell job with my allergies I’ll buy Allegra-GTO when we run out just because it has a hot, fresh box and a whole bunch of yellow arrows pointing at it on a CVS shelf.  Advil, by the handful, kicks ass when it comes to dis-inflaming my lumbar region while ripping holes in my stomach but when the bottle is empty I’ll probably replace it with Aleve. ‘Cause them little, low-effect caplets are blue! Hot damn – pretty pills, Aztec lookin’ bottle necks! Can I get an amen?!  

   I keep myself in the role of chief Guinea Pig, but it doesn’t mean the family won’t suffer a trickle-down effect. Say she’s been plagued with impacted nose goblins, Elisa will go hunting for the Sudafed only to discover what I’d replaced it with…  

  What the fuck is this? Coricidin? Why the hell do you keep doing this?  

  But but…you know my regular at the bar, Ed? He and his partner swear by it and I don’t think I’ve ever seen those guys sniffle and, and…Okay, I know, I’m sorry… 

   I try not to dick around with the kids’ well being as much. But sometimes the pharmacy is out of Pedia-Care and I get Tylenol Cough & Cold out of desperation because there’s a snot-impacted tyke at home who’s not going to sleep without some kind of nose-Drano. But when it comes to topical stuff – hair conditioner, wet wipes, lotions and ointments – the house is swarming with alternatives to our regular products. And it ain’t my fault because, when you’ve got little kids, the world rains down free-samples. And if Elisa doesn’t throw them out immediately, leaving them where I can find them, then the kids will be at the mercy of Dad on autopilot experimenting on them with trial-size packets of potential misery.  

   Hence, we arrive at Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. We go through a bunch of diaper rash cream here at the Robertses. That’s due to the fact that Elsie has a habit of not having bowel movements. She’ll hold them for a couple of days until they grow huge and start forcing their own exodus, often in the form of small chunks and poop juice which then burns up her bum skin. To calm the stuttering whimpers and shrieks of “ouchy, ouchy, my bum is stingy!” we reach for the tried and true A-D ointment. Unless, of course, Mom’s not home and there’s another raw ass remedy on the shelf. To my credit, I did pause before tearing into the packet of Butt Paste and gave it some thought. I’d heard people rave about it over the years and the sample had actually been given to us at Elsie’s doctor’s. Gonna work awesome, I thunk, and proceeded to plaster her flaming ravine with the goop. And I wouldn’t be writing any of this if it hadn’t set her off hopping madly in the bathroom while screaming in agony.  

    I wiped the offending medication off, temporarily increasing her distress, and slathered her with A-D. She relaxed instantaneously as her body flushed with waves of relief. She shot me some nasty looks, stomped off to find her blue monkeys and pacifier, and left me to wonder how a rash treatment made a rash worse. So I grabbed the packet and read what was in the stuff. Active ingredient: Zinc Oxide, which is good. Inactive Ingredients: Castor oil, citric acid, Peruvian Balsam…  

   Hmm, wonder what Peruvi – wait! Citric acid?! Jesus Christ, no wonder it burns… 

   With oil and acid as its main constituents it ain’t so much a skin soother as it is a salad dressing. Created in Loooosiana, where it probably works wonders on babies who eat too much pickled cayenne with their rice meal, it ought to be called Ragin’ Cajun Cornhole Vinaigrette. What the hell was Boudreaux thinking?  Application of acids is for killing things like scabies or chemically peeling off layers of skin. Next time Jack takes a digger off his bike should I save the day with some Crisco and half a grapefruit squeezed on his ripped-up knees? Golly no.  

   This topic has become pregnant with vulgar possibilities now so I’ll quit before I go any further south. The common sense lesson in all of this is Read Those Labels! But the real warning is for households with adult members like me, people who can’t keep their paws off new and shiny objects or are easily charmed by nifty names like “Butt Paste”. If you’re unsure about a sample product then don’t take it. Or hide it until you make a decision on its use. Or just throw it the fuck away before Dad finds it and does some additional damage to the children.