Is it just me, or are people wearing a lot more perfume recently? Perhaps I’m just sensitive to it because I’m a singer. There’s nothing quite like taking a deep breath just as an old lady walks by wearing two gallons of Eckerd’s new scent “Intransigence”, followed by your throat snapping shut and your nose flinging itself from your face, sliding across the floor, leaving a trail of boogery slime.
I find it happens a lot at church, which of course is where I do most of my singing. The choir, luckily, has to deal with the same issues I do, so they mostly don’t wear any stinkum. Unfortunately, I usually find myself sitting within a few seats of the acolytes and communion helpers, none of whom are singers, and at least one of whom seems to have a vat of CK1 in her backyard into which she dips herself after bathing. People that don’t sing never seem to get why it’s so bad, either; if you ask them to maybe tone down the Eau de Nasal Searing, their usual response is, “I smell just fine!” I think I should be allowed to stab them.
It’s even worse when you go out to a party or a club. Apparently the best way to attract women these days is to spray Drakkar Noir onto yourself until you get a nice crusty layer of it dried onto your shirt. Around here, some folks call it a Puerto Rican Shower, which is of course highly insulting and racist, and therefore never fails to make me laugh myself hoarse.
It happens at work as well. We have a woman here who is very nice, but luckily is not someone I have to deal with very often. It’s difficult to talk to someone while holding your breath to avoid passing out. I fail to understand why you need perfume at work. The purpose of smell, last I checked, was to attract potential lovers. Not something you particularly want to do at work.
I can’t even escape it at home! I’ll be on the throne, having some nice quiet time before showering and driving to work. Suddenly Sarah bursts into the room, and fills the air with some kind of cross between daisies, honeysuckle, and wild boar sweat. She then vacates as abruptly as she arrived, leaving me with my head between my legs, trying to breathe whatever fresh air might be left in the toilet bowl beneath me.
I often get my revenge, however. I’ve developed my own scent, which I call Essence of Stench. All you need to make your own batch of it is a large vat of refried beans, and it’s guaranteed to clear the room of odorous individuals.
Queries? Problems? Your brain leaking from your nose? I don’t care. Ah, just kidding. Shoot an email to spam(at)matthearn(dot)com.
