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5:55 a.m. - Saturday, May. 24, 2003
What Not to do with Mr Siang's Pure Oill

This is Siang Pure Oil.

Siang is, presumably, the name of the stern, rather straight-laced oriental gentleman in the picture. Look closely at his face, especially his eyes, or at least the one eye that still opens. Take a minute to get to know him, and then tell me: If Mr. Siang says �pure�, does he mean pure?

I should think he does.

And so we understand Mr. Siang.

So now, which part of �pure oil� do we not understand?

This is pure menthol and peppermint oil.

Let�s talk for a minute about what SHOULD be done with this oil.

According to the paper that comes in the box, it�s good for dizziness, fainting, flatulence, cramps, sprains, muscle pain and insect bites.

Now don�t you think anything THIS good has just GOT to be a great bath oil?

Yeah� that�s what I thought too.

I�ve been on a voyage of discovery in many ways. One of those ways is allowing myself to luxuriate in a hot bath with foaming stuff that smells good. I�ve tried a number of different concoctions for this. Bath salts in various colors and scents, Bath oils�(did I say oils?), soaps, bubbles, and even baking soda, vinegar, and once� a gallon of milk.

When I opened the little bottle of pure oil, I was first reminded of the old Dr Bronner�s all natural peppermint soap that used to be for sale back before flower children went extinct. Using that as a shower gel was kind of like brushing your teeth all over your naked body. It left your skin feeling fresh, cool and a little tingly for an hour or so after you were dry. Thinking of Dr Bronner took me back to my youth. I suddenly wanted to be young again. I wanted to go back to the days before I got so experienced and smart. And so, there I stood, with the little bottle in my hand that promised to transport me to those very days. It only seemed natural that Mr. Siang�s Pure Oil was the perfect thing to add to a hot bath for a good, relaxing, pain-relieving soak. One in which, if the slip of paper was to be trusted, I could release any worries whatsoever of unwanted bubbles breaking the surface of my bath. I had the perfect cure for old age, muscle pain, AND flatulence.

I felt that it would be somehow disrespectful, even sacrilegious, to diminish the healing properties of the pure oil by adding any of the other oils, salts or soaps on the wooden shelves by my tub. I opted for the pure experience commensurate with the pure oil. I tipped the open bottle and shook a few drops into the steaming water.

It seemed like a lot to ask of a few measly drops of oil in that whole tub full of water. The oil filmed on top of the water into an invisible sheen. I thought I could smell just a hint of peppermint in the clouds that rose from my tub. A hint was nice, but you know, more just had to be better, so I shook out a few more drops. Then a few more.

Then I just shrugged and threw in the whole bottle.

Ahh�! Suddenly the promise of lost youth rose to fill my small bathroom with a vapor of peppermint and menthol that I could actually feel on the whites of my eyes. I could feel it fill my sinuses and lungs, clearing the inner passages and bringing a spiritual peace. I made a mental note to be careful not to get any in my eyes and slipped slowly into the water.

I have to say, I was a bit disappointed at first. I could sure smell the pure oil, but I didn�t feel a thing on my skin. I squeezed a washcloth and washed my face. Nothing. I leaned back and wet my hair. Nada. And so I just laid there for a moment, inhaling the steam and closing my eyes.

Then, in a few moments, I started to feel it. A refreshing tingling, all over my body. It was the spirit of Dr. Bronner, reincarnate in Mr. Siang. Then it was the spirit of Dr.Bronner on acid. Then it was the whole Bronner family� for five or six generations. It tingled my face. It tingled my scalp. Then it tingled some other places that I hadn�t really considered.

I started to panic. I hopped out of the tub and grabbed a towel, but the laws of physics were against me. The oil had formed a slick on top of the water, so when I arose, I coated myself with pure oil. Rubbing with the towel only roughened my skin and rubbed the oil in. Within moments, I learned that there is a fine line between tingling and burning, and that the line wasn�t a straight one. It started around the, umm�.. perianal area and finished in the less sensitive climes. Within moments, I couldn�t stand even to let air touch my skin.

There was nothing I could do. Getting in the shower was unthinkable. I had missed that particular window of opportunity. Now my skin was so sensitive, I couldn�t bear the heat of hot or the coldness of cold. All I could do, really, was wrap up in my fluffy terrycloth robe and sit motionless for most of an hour, contemplating some of the reasons our government finds it so necessary to protect us from ourselves in so many ways.

So, the thing never to do with Mr Siang�s Pure oil, is to float it on top of water in a slick and then coat yourself in it like a chicken wing in Wesson oil. Take my word for it. Don�t do it.

On the other hand, I didn�t fart for nearly a week.

Happy Thoughts, Deep Breaths,

Coming Soon:

-Suite Dreams at the Wildwood Inn

-Ms Leslie Goes to the Dogs� the Greyhounds

-What Ms Leslie Wrote in the Guest Register at the S.S. Bang Saen Beach Hotel

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