Thursday, January 24, 2013

Fumes...

Oh God.
Oh no.

I'm just sitting here trying to enjoy a delightfully unhealthy raspberry muffin and two ladies walked in and sat by me smelling of every flower, plant, tree, weed, and probably fertilizer known and unknown to mankind.
Cough! Cough!  Hack! Hack!
Holy shit.  I'm suffocating.  I can taste their perfume!  It's tastes a tad like what I imagine Windex to taste like.  You know, poisonous.
Should I call poison control?  Have I inhaled too much?  Is this going to cause permanent damage?  Dammit, every time they make any movements it wafts over to me.  I'm sure it's getting into the muffin. Should I stop eating it?  But I'm fucking starving.
Cough! Cough!  Hack! Hack!
It doesn't even smell good.  You know, I can handle strong perfumes to a point, but when it's this strong and directly 3 feet away from my nostrils...it is almost impossible.  It reminds me of a woman who was in my culinary arts class who was a raging alcoholic and tried to "hide" the leftover stink with half a bottle of cheap-ass rose scented perfume.  Horrific memories just relived, without the gin.

Hey ladies, go take a shower with an SOS pad and burn your clothes.  Don't come in here smelling like that shit again.  Quality, not quantity.  You failed...twice.

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