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Sunday, July 27, 2014

Sweaty Patchouli Lady

Oh patchouli… that fragrant oil with the distinct scent… it’s making me gag. 

Back in the 80s when I was self-proclaimed “hip” I owned a vial of patchouli oil.  I would liberally baste myself in its fragrance.  

With my permed hair and eternally black clothing I was convinced I was the envy of all suburbanites and urbanites.  If someone turned their nose in aromatic disgust I knew instantly they were not my kind of people, not of my tribe. 

As that decadent decade of synthesizers and alt music and bad hair faded into oblivion I left the patchouli in the sock drawer and got on with my life.   

Every now and then I pass someone on the street or in a store or at a restaurant and a whiff of patchouli permeates my space.  For a split second I’m brought back to a time and a place and the skewed memories of who I thought I was. 

Not too long ago I was at the gym rigorously burning calories on the elliptical machine when a woman came along and stepped on the machine next to mine. 

Whiff whiff… that aroma… whiff whiff… a sudden memory of the 80s… whiff whiff… that stench!… I felt I was about to gag. 

The woman, with long hippy-ish hair, soft cheekbones and thin physique, was wearing patchouli oil. But something was amiss. The patchouli wasn’t the patchouli I remembered. 

Then I noticed beads of sweat crawling down her neck, prominent underneath her bosom, dark against her armpits, and realized that…

Patchouli + Sweat = Gag

I was forced to stop my cardio. My sense of smell was in bad-patchouli overload.

A few days later the same thing happened, but this time she was a few elliptical machines away from me. I smelled her before I saw her.  

I watched people jump on the machine next to her. Their nostrils flared taking in a big whiff of the sweaty patchouli lady. They responded like one responds to a really stinky sulfuric fart or the sudden spray of a skunk. They looked around with the “it’s not me” face and quickly bolted to a machine away from the sweaty smelly patchouli lady.

Does she think she smells alluring? Does she not smell the difference of her body once she puts the oil on and after it’s mixed with her gym sweat? 

Next time she jumps on the machine next time I’m gonna have to tell she stinks and hopefully she’ll move to another machine or else she’ll be on the receiving end of my projectile vomiting.

I’m so grateful I rarely sweat… especially back in the 80s. 

Friday, July 11, 2014

It’s In The Bible

Absurd excuses abound in our every day life.  We hear them from elected officials, so-called “religious” folk, the neighbor across the hall, friends, enemies, co-workers, and the Internet. Our brains are constantly being flooded with absurdities in the social media obsessed 21st Century. 

People are spewing hateful tirades and hideous beliefs. They have the audacity to say all it’s in the name of “God” and the proof/truth/excuse for their actions is “In the Bible.”


I’ve perused the Bible and can’t seem to find those phrases everyone seems to quote when they’re defending themselves. 

Sadly I think the Bible is the most mis-interpreted and mis-quoted book of all time, and the least-read book of all time. It’s lost its way (and its real messages). It seems to me people twist and turn the passages any way they want to support whatever idiotic thing they say. 

All these distorted interpretations of the Bible are just an excuse for bad behavior: 

I hate you because of the color of your skin.  Why?  The Bible says so.

God loves me and hates you. Why?  The Bible says so.

Loving who you love guarantees you eternity in hell. Why? The Bible says so. 

Sherri Shepherd is leaving The View because it says so in the Bible. True! 

Everyone should attend a tea party and forfeit coffee. Why? The Bible says so. 

Throwing bombs at non-believers and killing them is the right thing to do. Why?  The Bible says so. 

Well… I’ve decided to backup all my absurd beliefs and inane spewings with the phrase “It’s in the Bible.”  This way no one can dispute me because it’s in the Bible, and no one questions what’s in the Bible. 

Here’s what I say:

No one should be allowed to watch Fox News. Why? It’s in the Bible.

Never wear sandals when crossing a parting sea. Why? It’s in the Bible. 

Malbec wine should not be served with poisson. Why? It’s in the Bible. 

Everyone who doesn’t go to the gym regularly should not be allowed to eat ice cream. Why? It’s in the Bible.

I dare you to prove me wrong… Why? Because it’s in the Bible. 

The most important thing I know for certain is that absurd excuses for bad behavior give God a throbbing migraine. 

How do I know that? 

God told me.  

Sunday, July 06, 2014

How Yummy is Your iPhone?

I shouldn’t walk around my neighborhood anymore. Every time I do I see something a little odd and it pokes at my brain for the rest of the day and causes me to do things I normally wouldn’t do. 

Today while walking along I saw a man coming out of a coffee shop and heading up the street towards me.  As he approached he licked the front of his iPhone. Oh yes he did.  With his tongue hanging like a dog’s tongue that’s been in the heat too long he licked the front of his iPhone from bottom to top in one long quick swoop.

He saw me see him do this and there was no twinkle of laughter or look of embarrassment or shock of shame.  My immediate thought was this wasn’t his first time licking his iPhone, and probably not the first time licking his iPhone in public. 

Well… that got me thinking… what does an iPhone taste like?  

I thought about it and the thought consumed me. I suddenly had this desire, this need, this uncontrollable urge to lick my own iPhone.  But since I was outside I didn’t want anyone seeing me do it. (We all know how judgmental people can be.)

So… as soon as I got home I pulled it our of my pants and lifted it to my face. I closed my eyes and let my tongue hang low and with one quick swoop I licked it. 

Ready...
Here it goes...
Yum
Yum
Yummy!
It tasted just like bacon.  

Who knew that Apple was so innovative, so 23rd Century in a 21st Century world, giving iPhones flavor?  

I suggest taking the iPhone taste test… maybe yours tastes like bacon too? Or maybe yours is coconut shrimp flavored or coffee flavored or pizza flavored or southern fried chicken flavored? 

My secret desire is when I get my next iPhone it’ll taste like a Dunkin’ Donut. I’d lick it every morning for sure… and I’d sneak out of the office to lick it whenever I needed a mid-day snack… and then I’d lick before bed just for the fun of it. 

So what are you waiting for? 

Give it a try and give it a lick. 

How yummy is your iPhone? 


Tuesday, July 01, 2014

Tick Tock Crazy Hateful Midge


It must be difficult being Midge.  

She’s an old lady bully.   Actually she’s probably not as old as she looks. In human years she’s probably early 50s though she looks mid to late 60s. Her hateful heart has aged her and not like a good wine. She’s the bad tasting vinegar that needs to be flushed down the toilet. 

Sadly everybody knows a Midge.  For you she might be Laura or Lisa or Thelma or Adriana or even Shawanda.  For me she’s Midge.  A midge is a small two-winged fly that swarms near water or marshy areas where it breeds. How appropriate for the Midge I know.


People warned me not to befriend her, not to trust her, but in that small corner of my brain where I naively believe there’s goodness in everyone I felt the human duty to give her a chance.  I assumed kindness would beget kindness. I was wrong. 

We worked together a few years ago. When I first got there Midge made it clear she was the office leader. Her boss was the big boss and she embraced the power of the position.  There was no questioning Midge. If you didn’t agree with her she would bully you relentlessly until she got her way. 

One day she had a loud tick tock crazy fight with Jimmy the personnel manager and decided she hated him with a passion so intense it was scary.  From then on he could never do anything right and everything he said she mimicked.  She would instant message terrible things about him to anyone who had their instant messenger open.  Others in the office were afraid to call her on her bad behavior.  It was the “better him than me” attitude. 

I tried eating lunch with her a few times but always suffered severe indigestion afterwards.  I then tried water cooler small talk but always left the conversation with a dry mouth and a fear of water coolers. 

A few days after her fight with Jimmy I saw a crouching Midge, her fat ass looking like a beat up beach ball ready to pop, in the parking lot wandering between cars. That evening when Jimmy went to drive home he found his car antenna bent into a knot. 

Jimmy knew she bent his antenna, and when he confronted her she denied it which only made the situation worse.  Shortly thereafter Jimmy took a job at another company. And shortly thereafter I was fortunate to find a better job. 

I often wonder what makes someone like Midge such a hateful bully.  

Her heart is as shriveled as a pitted prune.  

Maybe someday she’ll tire of being so hateful and make a spiritual change for the better.

Until that happens… if you ever meet Midge… run the other way!