Peroxide n' Alcohol Scammin' in a Tree

See that thing on my foot shaped like a little Volkswagon? It's a patch of raw skin that was hidden just minutes before by a water blister the size of a lima bean. Today, I walk on that raw skin for the sake of toughening up my feet for soccer. My neighbor advised me to pop the blister and cut all the skin away. "The pain tomorrow will be worth it in the long run," he said. He'd better be right, by golly.

After I cut the skin away, I accidentally rubbed my foot with the wrong cotton ball: the one dipped in rubbing alcohol. After I stopped writhing in agony, I took the peroxide to it to try and give it a longer washing. "Use peroxide," everyone in my head said like a Jewish mother. "It doesn't hurt like alcohol." Well, if you ask me, peroxide and alcohol are in cahoots. They've got this marketing ploy going on, like, the best ploy ever, because nobody knows why they think peroxide is gentle, but they do. Until they use it. It's some sick good cop/bad cop strategy they've got. Peroxide's like, "Let me be the gentle one. (Through this secret marketing ploy) people will keep using us both to treat one wound, never able to decide which is better, always forgetting about soap and water. This confusion about who's better will keep them coming back to us both every time they get hurt." I uncovered the scam last night, and lo and behold, when I looked at the bottles, they were made by the exact same company. The kicker? Even though I know I'm being scammed, I'm always going to have them in my medicine cabinet side by side. And so are you.

By the way, soccer was way fun, but I had to keep subbing out because of this lake formed on my foot. And I don't care if you think it's gross.