Pheromones
I have never trusted musky people, yet a recent inventory of personal care products I use every day reveals that I have become one of them.It started when I occasioned to wear bowling shirts to various events, then started wearing a wifebeater under them. You know what I'm talking about. Why didn't I buy a silver chain, or get a Chinese character or barbed wire tattoo? Why didn't I get a crewcut, get my lenses tinted, buy a Hummer? Laziness, probably.
Then came the musky shaving cream (on sale), musky aftershave, musky shampoo, and even Irish Spring's musky product, "Icy Blast". Would my father have applied something to his skin called "Icy Blast"? I can assure you not.
It might be the neighborhood. The majority of gentlemen around here bathe in something that I think is called Hundred-Year Grudge. It coats the lawns and telephone poles and is spread on the cigarette butts they flick into the street. It hangs in little clouds over the barbershop and one can't get into the coffeeshop without a scythe. It takes a lot of competing male grooming product to keep up.
The only thing that isn't musky is my toothpaste. Once I buy that, I'm going to apply for a job at the car dealership.
posted
by Marty Barrett at Saturday, May 06, 2006
1 Comments:
dythere were a few christmases,birthdays,fathers days...that ,in desperation,we'd give dad old spice,once brut...but they were so obviously ego dystonic..that we went back to socks,polyester items purchased at Haband by ma,werthers butterscotch candies...but truly..all he needed was a nice bowl of soup and the Lowell Sun and a swim in the ocean...all other materia was effluvia...he was practically a spirit...dont go forgetting your dad old musky party boy with 2006 car...p.chu lee
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home