Keeping it clean

It can be really, really difficult talking to my friend Darryl:

Darryl: Washing your hands is bogus.
Harvey: I couldn't disagree more.
Darryl: It's a waste of time and a waste of water. Do you hate the earth?
Harvey: You're objecting to hand-washing on environmental grounds? Just yesterday you said "recycling" is bogus.
Darryl: Recycling is totally bogus.
Harvey: Look, not washing your hands is disgusting.
Darryl: My hands seem OK, and I haven't washed them all day.
Harvey: They're not OK! Your hands are filthy. What the hell did you do to them?
Darryl: It's chocolate. I mean, I think it is.
Harvey: You don't know?
Darryl:
Harvey:
Darryl: Maybe I should wash my hands.
Harvey: I gotta go.

Another strange interaction between Harvey and the portly store owner

Harvey: I can't seem to find any hand soup.
Miranda: You can't find what?
Harvey: Hand soup.
Miranda: Hand...
Harvey: ...soup.
Miranda: Right. I thought that's what you said. That doesn't exist. I think you made a verbal typo, and you're not owning up to it.
Harvey:
Miranda:
Harvey: Do you have bar soup instead?
Miranda: Just get the hell out.

The aroma of Neutrogena

Hail the aroma of Neutrogena!
Saccharine breath of glycerina!
Thou rock me like a hurricane,
And taste of noxious sugar cane.

Ambrosia sent by Gods of lye,
O heavenly lather in my eye,
Resplendent goo of gingered brown,
In thy surge I eagerly drown.

Pour thy sugar on me, love,
Thou fit me like a sudsy glove,
A brick of origin tureen,
And yet thou always make me clean.

Sorrel soap! Thy glorious song,
Is what I long for all day long,
How dost thou do, that which thou does?
And why are you so expensive?