because it drops me off at my house.
Wait a minute... that's not the Author!
Subtitle: Body odors I have smelled.
Those of you who follow the complete set of Brennan Media Group (BMG) offerings know that I sat next to a smelly dude on the bus today. While that doesn’t quite qualify as a revelation, the particular scent was novel. While it was overwhelming my olfactory senses, I got to thinking about the variety of smells that cling to an individual when hygiene is no longer in the picture. They tend to group into a few categories, which was what made this new varietal so strange. It didn’t even come close to slotting into any of our favorite stink tropes. I felt privileged to partake in what must have been it’s opening weekend. Thank god I caught the matinee before all the band-wagoners ruined it for everyone else.
I would like to take this time to make a quick aside. I know that, on the whole, people who smell on mass transit would prefer not to. Oft times there are issues of finance, mental health, or age that contribute to their odor through no fault of their own. I am not condemning them, nor am I condemning the ones that don’t bathe because they choose not to. You can stink or not stink for all I care. I’m not gonna be excited about you sitting next to me for 45 minutes, but I’m not gonna be pissed either. However, I reserve the right to make fun of everyone, including myself. During camping trips and other events, I’m sure that I have made B.O. no-nos as well. I’m not perfect, but I still have a sense of humor about. So should everyone else.
Without further ado, the offerings:
1. Salty Pea Soup.
This one smells like a combination of sex/workout sweat that was allowed to dry and abortive culinary dregs. Usually green in odor and always potent, this one lingers long after their carrier has gone. A favorite of house guests, you’ll find sensual traces of them on everything everywhere forever. Which is great, because now your new girlfriend wonders what or who you did on this couch. Oh, if you don’t know how something can be “green” in odor, you haven’t scented this breed yet.
2. The Once and Future Fecal Matter.
Grandpa may not be able to remember his kids’ birthdays or self sufficiency, but he sure can fill a drawer. His drawers that is. Full of poop.
The scent seems to fill every space around you, until there’s no escape. You find yourself slowing your breathing to attain hibernation. Wondering to yourself if that old man is just sitting on a wading pool full of pants caca or what.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea.
3. Moldy Corner of the Basement.
Apparently taking their cues from shoddy foundation work, the folks that parade this around believe in a good layer of single celled organisms. Often the purview of the deliberate non-washer, this one can be insidious. You’ll sit next to them, knowing, KNOWING, that you smell something. What is it? It’s not pleasant. Where is it coming from? Who knows? Each tiny zephyr brings a different scent. Once you finally find out that what is reminding you of playing hide and seek is that fucking hippy next to you, you’re gonna be pissed.
4. Secret S Rank: WTF Grape Popsicle.
You know how in artificial flavorings, colors have tastes? Like, you get an Otter Pop and open up blue. It doesn’t taste like raspberries (or blue raspberries, which do not exist), it doesn’t taste like… what the ever the hell else is blue and has a flavor. It tastes like blue. Cherry gum tastes like red, and orange tastes like orange because people can’t name fruit.
Well today I found out that a homeless person can smell like purple, or rather grape popsicle purple. It really threw me for a loop, because it smelled like it right away. No preamble, no find the scent like with the Musty Basement. Just grape popsicle, deal with it. I was more confused then anything. What did I know about human physiology? Was this guy sick? Was he a viral bomb sent by the Al Qaedas? All I knew is that I had never smelled a person like this and that led me to believe that humans should not smell like that. I’m sure he popped open like an overripe melon a few minutes after he left the bus, but I wanted to follow him and ask what he thought he was doing, smelling like an impossibility.
I’m not looking forward to my first popsicle after this experience. I’m half expecting it will know where I’ve been and ask if I’ve seen its daddy.
Update: Is Grapple the answer?