It was not until summer of 2005 that I was introduced, in phrase at least, to the Triple S. My best friend & roommate, Nathan, dropped his love for it in casual conservation & all I could muster was a iknowwhatyou'retalkingaboutbutactuallydon't face. After slight investigation (and putting two & poo together) it dawned on me that I, too, had an underlying & unadulterated love for the Triple S.
Quickly after learning the phrase, it slipped down the drain of my immediate memory & did not resurface until yesterday morning: "Man, I love my morning routine. There's nothing like waking up, taking a shit, showering, then shavin... Wait! THE TRIPLE S! I'D FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT YOU!!!"
1) S the First: Shit
Yes, I do have a very vocalized & publicized fear of public deification, but when time is all my own, I enjoy every last solitary moment of my morning poop. There's nothing like shitting before work when the night prior's sleep still retains its grasp on me. As much as I enjoy reading on the toilet later in the day, shitting during the wee morning Triple S is all about relaxing, preflecting, & occasionally nodding off for a few moments, only to jolt out in a fit of ironic laughter: "I fell asleep on the toilet! Boy, are my cheeks red." Sitting upon my throne, night light illuminating the room (I poop in darkness), & eyes glazed over in an unrecognizable haze, I am able to spend 8 minutes of my day alone, contained, relaxed, & not masturbating. No, no matter how old you are, the toilet is no place to masturbate.
2) S the Third: Shower
I was one of those young kids who did not shower every day of the week. There, I said it. Luckily, I was not one of those kids one could tell did not shower every day of the week. I was never a Smelly, or a Stinky, or a ForTheLoveofGodUseDeodorant kid. I knew the very moment before things were about to become rank (a skill I have to this day...Smelling Bad being my #3 Top Fear), so I'd shower only when necessary, not when The Man said I should. Showering daily, I soon learned, was one of those childhood lies based on fear, hearsay, & adult propaganda. Lies like "You'll ruin your dinner," "Access masturbation shrinks your penis," and "Picking your nose it a filthy habit." Yet now, short of, you guessed it, masturbation, I've found the act of showering to be one of the most calming & personalized rituals I experience. Trapped in a tiny water closet, night light illuminating the stall (I shower in darkness), & singing my Showtune of the Month, I am able to spend 7 minutes of my hectic day alone, contained, clean, & not masturbating. No, no matter how old you are, the shower is no place to masturbate.
3) S the Second: Shave
I miss my facial hair! Working for Top-American-Hotel-Destination has forced me to abandon my chin strap & soul patch, thus robbing me of my conformist individuality. It's ridiculous how I started growing it the moment I graduated high school, as a sign of newly attired independence. College would by the time to let my freak flag fly...or mole hair creep...same thing. Four years of collegiate independence & WHAP, I'm walloped with a youneedtobecleanchaventoworkhere bitch-slap the moment I enter the Real World. Regardless of what's growing on my face, I do enjoy the time I spend shaving. If time allows (which it only ever does on the occasional day of), I spend a little more time, razor-in-toe, shaving...elsewhere. And for all those wondering, yes, I am referring to the trimming of my...uni-brow. Yeah, that's it; uni-brow. ::darts eyes as many places as possible, hoping beyond hope his Manscaping lead-in goes relatively unnoticed:: Success? ::he thinks not...nay, he knows not:: Towering over the vanity, night light dulled by the three bulbs over head (no one shaves in the dark...not even me), & face tingling from the aroma therapeutic shaving cream my dad bought on sale last Christmas, I am able to spend 5 minutes of my day alone, contained, matured, & not masturbating. No, not masturbating.
No lie, there's nothing better than my Triple S.