Alternate world products.

When I was in the hospital, and checked into my room (so to speak), I was given a little courtesy bowl full of things to help keep up appearances. Soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, antiperspirant, etc., all branded with names you never heard of, like they dropped in from an alternate world. Yet I was very pleased by this. I had heard from an unlucky traveler who was injured abroad that in Romania the hospitals don't even feed you; if you want to eat, your family has to bring you food. (Since she was traveling alone, this put her in a sticky situation, as you might guess.)

I wasn't allowed to shower, with my back in such awful shape, but I definitely used that toothpaste and brush. And I have to tell you, it was the second nastiest toothpaste I ever tried.

Freshmint was the "brand," and I use "scare quotes" because I doubt it ever finds its way onto American shelves. I think it is sold particularly for hospitals and other institutions, and the little tubes can be purchased online in bulk. The label said it was made in India. Perhaps our Indian friends have different preferences in toothpaste flavor. This tasted like mint-flavored cardboard. But it was much better than nothing, and better by far than the awful Burt's Bees crap I paid money for.

The little soap I took home; there were soap dispensers at the bathroom sink, so I never used it.

"Freshscent"

Ditto the antiperspirant; I figured it would be thrown away if I didn't take it, so why not? A memento of my little sojourn.

How do they smell? Like the hospital. That is, I think all the ambulatory patients, and probably half the staff, use this stuff for the same reason I took it -- otherwise it would go to waste. So it makes sense that the whole place would smell like this and not, say, Dial or Axe. It's a pleasant enough scent and not overpowering, like baby powder. Oddly enough, the Freshscent products seem to be made in the USA, although the branding is quite similar to the toothpaste. There are questions about the supply chain that can only be answered by distributor New World Imports, and I haven't time to pester them right now.

Finally, there was the shampoo, or shall I say baby shampoo and body wash, which tells us what we ought to know about shampoo -- that it too is soap:

MedSpa does not come to us from NWI, but rather is a product of Medline, the company that makes Curad bandages and plenty of other medical supplies. This made-in-the-USA shampoo/soap smells pretty good too, a sort of generic soapiness, like a slightly stronger bubble-wand soap. It's just OK, but it got me clean, and after four days and change without a shower that's the key to quality, you ask me.

So that's my experience with hospital loot. I never opted for a pair of the grippy socks, nor did I try to take the charming split-back gown home. I never get invited to those red-carpet events anyway.

Washing the dog.

Little dog Nipper, who is only just over a hundred pounds, is pretty well behaved at the groomer and can get a bath and haircut, no problem. Big dog Tralfaz, who is larger, has gotten panicky there, and the last time we tried to bring him in he displayed such powerful anxiety that they could not do anything with him.

Most groomers really don't want to work on dogs as big as Fazzy. Hell, I don't either. He'd never bite, but he will try to run, which can still hurt you, and could hurt himself.

But regardless, I have been in charge of bathing him until such time as we can find a groomer willing to work with him. My wife is in charge of giving him trims. She keeps his fuzzy feet from looking like old-man slippers, gets the knots and tangles off him.

Here are the steps I follow for giving Tralfaz a bath. Maybe you'll find it useful if you have to bathe a 130-pound dog.

1) Change into old clothes. Yes, an 1906 cutaway suit and spats would be nice. Failing that, old T-shirt and sweats and socks that look suspiciously like a hole is fixing to bust out. And boots.

2) Set up porch. Towels, bottle of water, showerhead attached to the hose (make sure the water in the hose is not hot after being in the sun). Move flower pot -- we don't want him to come back dirtier. Shampoo. Scissors for any surprise tangles. Grooming leash (a.k.a. choke collar). By now the dog knows something is up, but fortunately he is too big to hide.

3) Bring out Scrubby mitts too, and the new dryer, and treats, and mesh sponge, and brushes, and comb. (This dog needs more product in the shower than my wife does.) Then try to brush out as much loose hair as possible. My dog manufactures hair like General Mills manufactures Cheerios. This part could take a while.

4) Take dog down to yard to pee and maybe -- yes, score! Get that poop out now so that he will be able to keep that behind clean as long as possible.

5) Remove collar, flea collar; put on grooming collar. Wet down the dog. Dog does not appreciate getting wet. I thought dogs liked getting wet?! Not this dog. Starts trying to pull away from grooming leash, which is tied to porch and may bring down the whole porch roof. Tries to shake off water. This is why I wear old clothes.

6) Shampoo dog thoroughly, from neck to tail, as directed. This is like bathing a 130-pound toddler who hates baths. Keep at it. Remember: He stinks. We're doing this for the health of his skin and coat and the fact that he has to be around others tomorrow and we don't want them to faint when they smell him. Once he's somehow all soaped up, get at the tender bits with the Scrubby mitts.

Now we pause for this commercial and distasteful message. Friends, I receive no sponsorship from the makers of Scrubby, but I endorse them strongly. These disposable mitts contain their own gentle soap, so when you get them wet you can clean your canine chum with them safely. You don't even have to rinse them off, just wash and dry. They could replace bathing entirely for small dogs, but I think my guys still need a bath. However, they are excellent for getting up around Tralfaz's face, down around his Mr. Winkie, and especially around his butt, where the hair sometimes collects (distasteful part) dried poop. The Scrubby allows me to dampen that hair and (usually) remove it with no pain to him, then dispose of the cleaning mitt in the trash. Sadly, this time I pulled at the hair too hard and he freaked out. That's on me, not Scrubby.

Where were we? Oh yes:

7) Calm down freaked-out dog with a treat.

8) Rinse, which is more water and he still doesn't like it, ensuring him in happy voice that it's almost over (which comes across as the "blah blah blah Ginger" of Far Side fame, no doubt). When it looks like the soap is gone, turn off the water and let him shake to his heart's content.

9) Dry off with approximately 87 towels.

10) Brush the damp hair; remove more loose hair. Try new dog hair dryer with attached brush. Find it getting stuck in his hair. Call wife urgently.

11) Try to make self useful as wife demonstrates that the hair has to be combed first. Bring in damp towels; start load in laundry with bleach or Lysol Laundry Santizer. (They're too wet to burn.) Throw away old Scrubby. Bring in showerhead, shampoo, etc.

12) Marvel at how dry the Mrs. got the dog, who is looking happy and clean and very, very tired now.

13) Walk baby dog Nipper, who is extremely jealous at this point.

14) Go hide somewhere until the pain wears off enough to take your own damn shower.

A couple of classics.

When I was a kid, the dads tended to fall into one of three camps: Old Spice, Aqua Velva, or Skin Bracer. You'd meet the occasional Brut or even Hai Karate dad, but they were more likely to see overly friendly, like a salesman who couldn't turn it off at home. My dad found that Skin Bracer hit him just right.

But there were some classic colognes and aftershaves that had and have a recognizable scent, ones that just were not much in use by dads in the time and place where I grew up. I've not made a collection of them, but sometimes curiosity has overwhelmed me and I've felt obliged to try something like...

Clubman by Pinaud has been around since 1810, and smells like every just-for-guys barbershop I've ever entered. The omnipresent scent probably comes from the Clubman powder, with which every neck got brushed following the haircut. It's a nice, manly scent, a little floral but mostly woody, a little musky. I do find it a bit strong in the aftershave, though, so I will use a little Purell with it in my palm when I slap some on. I never want to be That Guy, the one who knocks people a step back because of his strong cologne (good or bad, a strong smell from a guy makes people react poorly).

This cologne, however, I found to be a little scary:

Supposedly Florida Water, an even older product, on the American scene since 1808, is named for the legendary Fountain of Youth that Juan Ponce de León sought. It's got a very spicy scent, clean rather than musky, and I would not have guessed that it contains oils of lemon, orange, and lavender, but it does. It also supposedly has a lot of spiritual uses for all kinds of pagan practices, but arrant nonsense aside, it's a pleasant enough product. I tend to thin this also with Purell, which may be why I have enjoyed no spiritual cleansing. The one mystic power I feared was that using Florida Water might turn a guy into a Florida Man, but the company that makes it is in New Jersey, so I think it's safe.

What do I usually use? Well, I like an alcohol-based aftershave because it kills germs (keep that flesh-eating bacteria out of your razor nicks!), it dries fast, and it feels clean. So I keep a pump bottle of Purell by the sink and usually just use that. For special occasions I may break out some fancy-pants cologne I got as a gift. But, every once in a while, I'll buy a bottle of Skin Bracer and use that, and remember my dad.

The ten-minute special.

Around the house I have a reputation for a five-minute special.Yes, you know what that means -- I can go in the bathroom dirty and come out showered in five minutes. Others around here who shall be nameless take longer. Take considerably longer, for that matter.

I don't want to be crass and sexist enough to point fingers at one gender or other, but let me just mention that we have a friend with four daughters, and until the older ones started to move out of the house he couldn't tell you what color his bathroom was.

But I have certain advantages, as will come clear when I describe the ten-minute special.

The five-minute special only works if I don't shave and am willing to start my shower under freezing cold water. It's really only for emergencies, The ten-minute special allows me to do the job right. Here's how it works:

1) Chase out the dog that followed me into the bathroom before he chews up the rug. (The timer does not actually start until the dog has been removed.)

2) Turn on the water. While water gets warm, shave with the Braun electric razor. It's not as good as a razor shave but it's considerably faster. Check for odd ear or nose hairs that must be removed. (Guys who don't bother with that last part can shave -- har! -- a few seconds off the time, but men, please. Come on. No one likes a hairy ear unless you're in the Lord of the Rings.)

3) Strip, jump in shower. (Elapsed time so far: two minutes, twenty-three seconds.) If using dandruff shampoo, put that on first and leave it there through the shower; a dermatologist once told me that it helps to get the medicine into the scalp. Scrub chest, torso, etc. Continue through various and sundry bodily parts. Using the same bar of soap or body wash as a shampoo will save a little time, and if you get buzzed like an alpaca the way I do it hardly matters. I don't exactly give my golden tresses 100 strokes with a boar-bristle brush morning and night. Rinse well.

4) Pop out of shower--elapsed time, six minutes and forty-five seconds. Towel off, apply antiperspirant, aftershave; run brush over scalp. Brush teeth (forget about flossing or singing "Happy Birthday" twice so you brush for two minutes; just get the choppers clean). Total time: Nine minutes, forty-two seconds. So there's even a little time to use a Q-tip or apply jock itch or athlete's foot spray if you need it.

5) Get dressed. Done! All in under ten minutes.

Here are some extra tips:

🚿 Opinion is divided about whether peeing in the shower saves time, and even if it does, is that okay. My take is: You're there to do a job (get clean), not pee. Urinate in the toilet, outside of the ten-minute window.

🚿 Don't have a really nice bathroom. You think I could get through a shower in ten minutes if I had one of these babies in my bathroom?

I might never leave the house.

🚿 This is not a good time to use Crazy Foam. It may make getting clean fun, but fun is not time-efficient.

In racing to get this done on time, it's easy to forget some key steps, so let me remind you once again: wash everything, rinse off, and make sure the water is on before you start. And get the dog out. He's gonna eat that whole freaking bath mat, man.

Blade or electric?

Okay, boys---and girls too, if it applies---which do prefer?

Blade?

 Or electric?

I hate to shock anyone, but I swing both ways on this issue. I use both razors and electric shavers. I know. Decadent.

The thing is, they each have their advantages:

RAZOR: Closer shave, no matter what the Remington commercials say.

ELECTRIC: Faster shave.

RAZOR: Easier to get the thicker beard on the chin.

ELECTRIC: Easier to get the sensitive areas, like around the lips and under the nose.

RAZOR: Disposable; doesn't need a big cleaning or expensive new blades.

ELECTRIC: Not as disposable, so fewer trips to the CVS.

RAZOR: Lower initial investment.

ELECTRIC: Generally lower cost in the long run.

RAZOR: More portable for travel.

ELECTRIC: May irritate the skin, but will never cut it.

RAZOR: Don't have to keep going over the same spot to clear it.

ELECTRIC: With standard attachments, can remove a full beard on its own.

RAZOR: Easier to not miss a spot, as shaving cream delineates shaved/unshaved areas.

ELECTRIC: Attachments can be used to get (sorry!) ear hair et al.

RAZOR: Wife prefers razor shave on my face.

ELECTRIC: Easier to face earlier in the morning.

RAZOR: Manlier.

ELECTRIC: Santa can ride on it.

So what do you think? Razor or electric? Or are you just a slob? (Or is your last name Robertson?)