Cleanliness is next to Godliness

One of the most delightful things about the Posse is the diversity. We hail from all over this hemisphere, we have totally different skill sets, our personalities run the gamut, and yet, we are all fabulous. In fact, when one man became confused about whom he was interested in most, Kranberry said, “Face it Ladies, I wouldn’t be able to choose from among us either!”

So the other day Amber acts totally offended when I mention that sometimes she is a bit … particular …. about certain things. Hello!!?! Are you NOT the woman who refuses to use the restroom at A Slice of Heaven, and, in fact, went on a total tirade about how “I DO NOT go potty in the lake. I DO NOT go potty in the forest. I DO NOT go potty in the ocean. I DO NOT go potty on the side of the road. Blah blah blah.” ??

I tried to convince her that going to the restroom in the Slice of Heaven is not that bad. I mean, sure, it’s always a safe bet that you should grab a couple of napkins from the bar ‘just in case’ because apparently after 14 years of continuous operation they can’t quite get the hang of how much toilet paper they need per night. Or maybe they have a certain budget for toilet paper and once it’s gone, it’s gone, baby. Deal. The dispensation of the soap, however, deserves describing.

Don’t even think about using the industrial liquid soap dispensers on the wall. They have never held soap since the freebee supply they came with ran out. And women in all stages of drunkenness (from vomiting to soiling themselves) have probably tried to use these dispensers, so there is most likely next year’s winning science project contained right there on that little handle.

But, never fear, the Slice of Heaven staff has got you covered. There is a little sandwich-sized Tupperware right there on the counter between the double sinks. Fitting perfectly into the Tupperware is a very soaked, slightly moldy sponge. And resting on that throne fit for a queen is the slimiest bar of Ivory soap you have ever seen.


I told Amber that it doesn’t have to totally gross you out. Just run your index finger in a small circle along the top of the bar twice, then rub your hands together vigorously under the water and you’re good to go. You could literally see her skin crawl as I described it.

So that got the Posse to thinkin’…. We’re the local girls here. We should contribute to our favorite establishment and supply them with a pump container of antibacterial Dial. But then we started thinking that maybe this should be for the exclusive use of the locals, like some clubs here have the special Local’s Entrance and exclusive Local’s Bar.

We could put the soap in a glass case (like a fire hose) that we could mount on the restroom wall. And we would be in charge of the key. The key would be attached to a really big wooden paddle like in the seventh grade when you had to ask the teacher for the restroom pass and then everyone knew you were on your period. And the Posse member who drank so much that she threw up the weekend before (you know who you are you “self-regulating” wussies!) would have to sit at the bar with the wooden paddle around her neck for the entire next Friday night. And while we originally intended for this to be a mark of shame, we now realize that there is a certain clientele (Goooooooo ROOFERS!) who will find this extremely attractive, so wear the khaki skirt at your own risk. I’m just sayin’.