You Stink Purty...

Another smell-related post, though this one has nothing to do with flatulence/defecation -- I can tell by the response that last night's post was one of your faves. I promise I'll refrain from self-doo-sclosing for awhile.

So, all day today I kept catching a whiff of this phantom smell -- a kind of sweet, powdery, springtime-fresh lady kind of smell that was quite nasally-titillatious. It was, however, strangely out of place, as my subterranean dungeony office hole usually smells like more of a cross between damp-spidery-beef-dust and musty-swampgas-egg-socks.

I kept sniffing around, trying to locate the elusive emanation, but to no avail. I smelled my shirt, my hair, the garbage can, my pen, my nose-breath -- zilch, zally, nada, bupkus. This went on for the entire day and I was unable to track down the phantom fragrance.

Finally, at the end of the workday, I walked upstairs and, I guess, the fresh above-ground air jogged my plaque-riddled gray matter. I remembered that I had run out of my deodorant and decided to borrow a coupla swipes of the Old Lady's pit-stick. So instead of my usual co-op bought Queen Helene Aloe deodorant, that makes me smell like a sour, aloe-y me:



I smelled all purty with my Mitchum for Women Spring Fresh scent:



I found out later that the Old Lady didn't even like that deodorant and had already moved on to some other flavor. She was getting ready to the throw the thing out, and I contemplated taking it over and making it my new trademark stink. But I realized it would be just too distracting, having that swiped on me every day. It was like working next to some sweet-smelling co-worker, and I had a hard time focusing. Besides, my basement's a cold, harsh solitary nether-world -- it's no place for a high-class woman like Lady Mitchum.

So, farewell sweet lady... and thank you for spreading a little bit of your springy freshness to my cold, wintry world. This one's for you: