Swami's shampoo story reminded me of this...

Reading labels is very important.

Several years ago, (when my sister was 12 or 13 maybe? - Which would have made me 22 or 23), I had purchased a bottle of Nair hair removal mousse. It really didn't work for me, so I put it in the closet of the bathroom that I shared with my sister. (Yes, I still lived with my parents at that age.) One weekend, my sister had a sleep-over with 4 or 5 of her friends. I had told my sister that she better keep her friends out of my stuff. Well, Saturday morning when they all got up, they had piled into the bathroom to do their hair and stuff. After they were finally out of there, I went into the bathroom. All my make-up, which was kept in a drawer, was scattered across the counter. This pissed me off. Then I noticed that the Nair mousse was also on the counter, with a little of the product at the tip of the nozzle, and some down the side of the can. I go to the dining room where all the girls (read brats) were sitting. I asked, quite nicely, if any of them had gotten into my stuff. They all say no, and my sister starts getting all huffy, and complaining about me accusing her friends. I said, "hey, no problem. No big deal. However, if any of you used that mousse in your hair, you may want to go wash your hair right now. That's hair removal." Loud screams and a panicked dash to the bathroom followed my annoucement. Except for Gina, one of my sister's friends. She sat at the table, with a really scared look on her face. She had just had surgery to have tubes put in her ears, and couldn't get her hair wet. She was so afraid that all her hair was going to fall off, but what was she to do? I don't remember what she ended up doing. Luckily for the girls, the Nair didn't work any better on their heads than it did on my legs. My mom and I laughed our asses off.

Of course, this still wasn't enough to teach the girls to stay out of other peoples' belongings. Later, Gina comes walking in the living room, wearing a pair of bear-feet houseshoes. I comment how cool they were, and that I had a pair just like them. She gets a funny look on her face, and leaves the room quickly. I turn to my mom, and say, "those are my shoes, aren't they?"