Scent of a Man

And I'd thought that waking up to waifs of insecticide lingering in the air early morning today was bad; little did I know that this was just the overture of what I'll be experiencing two hours later. Let me explain...

The insecticide was the result of an unexpected guest on the storeroom door and papa sure wasn't stingy on the deadly potion to teach this little brown creature a lesson for invading our house. In retrospect, I secretly suspect the overdose of poison was the result of a sheer insult felt by the very man who would disinfect his house dutifully every other day with Dettol, no less!

And that was still bearable for the choking whiff quickly diffused. Now, imagine my horror when my nose picked up the ammonium scent the uncle at seat R60 on my right was wearing at church. With all due respect, I don't really think he'd skipped a shower before he leaving his house or fallen into a cesspool on the way, but I sure find myself having to rub my nose (not that I can help it) for the 2 hours I sat beside him (as if being seated at separate sections from my sis wasn't bad enough). Of course, I have to admit that my low threshold for bad smell is to blame here. And suddenly, Axe Brand medicated oil which I can never stand doesn't seem so bad.

I can't help but wonder if it'd ever dawned on the uncle that his ammonium scent wasn't really appealing to Ms R59 (that's me) and maybe Ms R61 (another lady who'd left her seat 3 times for reasons I can only speculate) in an air-conditioned auditorium.

And of course, with that, I'm even more adamant in my stand now - that a man, neanderthal or contemporary, straight, queer or undecided, chichi or antiquated, should smell good (my fave being Calvin Klein's Eternity For Men) or to the very least, make sure he doesn't smell [anything].