Extreme Sport

“Honey, put that back. You don’t want that.”

Huh?

“You don’t want this one. It’s no good.”

Shampoo. This is all I want right now. I’m out of shampoo and I need more. What could be bad about this shampoo?

Mi Linda, what’s the matter with this shampoo? Look at it: 88% more. Extreme Old Spice. You can’t beat this. It’s extreme.

“Honey, you don’t want to buy anything with an adjective in the title. Trust me.”

I take a moment to digest these words of wisdom and realize that I’ve been doing the exact opposite my entire life. I like adjectives. I mean, I REALLY like adjectives. It comes from being Latino. If it has the words super, great, gourmet, extreme, best we take it to heart. Any superlative makes us grab our wallet. You throw in some shiny colors and, Dios mio, we MUST have it.

This wasn’t just any old shampoo. This was Old Spice. It has to be bueno. I mean, it’s Old Spice. This was Old Spice Extreme Sport. That’s three adjectives AND the bottle was bright red and blue. The bottle said that it would take my “showering experience to the limit”. Now, I don’t really know what that means. Frankly, that statement scares me, but what in the holy name of Procter and Gamble is wrong with this?

Mi Linda, what’s the matter with this shampoo? It’s on sale. It’s shampoo. Who cares?

Oh…she cares.

I suddenly remember taking a shower at her house a few days earlier. I enjoy entering that phase in any relationship where showering is exciting. When you shower with me, certain body parts will be very clean. It’s my duty as a Guatemalan male to ensure this is so.

Anyway, it was time for shampoo and I reach for the bottle with the shiniest, most attention-getting color.

“Whoa.”

Yes?

“Um, honey, love, here, let me put what you need in your hand.”

Mi Linda is not cheap. She’s very likely one of the most giving people I have ever met, but she all of a sudden is rationing shampoo? Que pasa con eso?

You’re rationing shampoo.

“Baby, this is really expensive shampoo and you don’t need to use as much.”

The bottle was bright orange. The shampoo was bright orange. I know that the brand started with a “K”, but all my eyes see is champú fantástico! What is this? Cuba? Is it because I’m Guatemalan? I’m all of a sudden not good enough for your fancy orange shampoo? Why mujer? Why must you taunt me with your fancy bottles of shampoo? Why?

“Baby, this bottle is $50 a bottle.”

Stop. What did you say? You paid $50 for a bottle? Here, we can put the shampoo back in the bottle. See? Let’s just scrape this last little bit in there. I’m a man mi Linda. I’m a Guatemalan hombre. I don’t put $50 shampoo in my hair.

“Baby, you can use it. It will make your hair really shiny. Just don’t use as much.”

Have you seen my hair? It’s Guatemalan hair. It's Mayan, it's real and it’s fabulous. I don’t need $50 shampoo. I’ll just use this, Pantene, this is fine.

“That was my ex boyfriend’s shampoo.”

Was he allowed to use the fancy shampoo?

“No.”

Give me that damn thing.

And so the story goes. I marked my territory once again, but this time with shampoo.

If you see an extremely good looking Guatemalan (more good looking than your average Guatemalan) walking down the street with extremely shiny hair, please, do not be jealous.

Mucho Amor,

El Guapo

PS. I went back and got the Old Spice Extreme Sport. The shampoo is blue. I mean, come on. What is a simple Guatemalan to do?