Hey science: explain this!

Here's how the whole thing goes (and it surely goes this way in your home if you have teenagers):

"Hey kids, what happened to the bottle of water I just put in the fridge 0.28 seconds ago?!?"

"Sorry. I drank that. I didn't know it was yours. Maybe you should label it."

I know, I know. I have unreasonable Utopian expectations about food and drink in the house. I admit to daydreaming of a world where something unique shows up in the fridge, and people ask if it belongs to someone before they claim it.

Silly me.

So, the other day I was doing weekend projects and bought a big bottle of water for when I was done. (I'm a planner, what can I say). Kids were orbiting the fridge, so I decided to take out a Sharpie and scroll a huge "DAD" on the bottle. Ha! Take that you bloody little (dehydrated) scoundrels! Here's a map to the faucet, you paupers. Paws off my Aquafina.

As luck would have it, I got done with my project and either forgot about the water, or had to rush off to something else. I ended up bringing it to work with my lunch.

Here's where the whole thing went south.

Yesterday morning, after arriving at the office, I was washing my hands and noticed I had all of this black stuff on my hand. I looked at the mirror, and sure enough, I had rubbed the side of my nose and forehead and some of it had transferred onto my face.

I don't know about you, but when this happens, I kind of freak out and put myself through a 312-point inspection to try and figure out what I have on me and where it's coming from.

This time, finding the source was to no avail. Neither was washing the stuff off. I must have scrubbed for a good half-hour, and whatever it was just would not come off my hands. I decided to scrub a few layers of skin off my face so at least I wouldn't have to answer smart-alek questions about Goth makeup failures from my coworkers.

I kind of forgot about it until just now. I glanced at my fingers and...yes....a new round of black gunge on my fingers.

What the hell?

But then my water bottle caught my eye, and I figured it out. There's no "DAD" on there.

Now here's the question for the scientists out there: How is it that a PERMANENT marker can wipe right off of one surface with nothing but a soft touch, but nothing short of dousing my hands in gasoline and lighting them afire will get this crap off my skin???

And, I can wash my hands until the cows come home and it won't come off, but if my hand gets anywhere near my face, I've got Sharpie-covered cheeks?

Actually, the explanation probably rests with karma not science.

"Let the kids drink your stuff, Mr. Fancy Water."

Now excuse me while I go see how much ink got on my face this time around.

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