I smell gross. I really do. Not because I'm wearing anything ugly, but because I've gone "Coldstone Creamery" on my own ass. It started out innocently enough, with me contentedly sorting out my perfume decants like George Clooney re-filing headshots of his conquests.
Actually, Clooney just gets the interns to do it.
I organized my CB I Hate Perfume samples, and sprayed I See a Flower on a wrist. (Very nice: grass, dirt, then some actual springtime flowers bloom.)
Then I assembled my By Kilian samples, and sprayed Love on the back of a hand (mildly boozy divinity fudge.) Then I ran across a clump of Kenzos, and Flower Oriental went on the back of the other hand (a clunkier, harsher, more synthetic-smelling version of Miller Harris Fleur Oriental.)
Finally, a few drops of Frédéric Malle Carnal Flower spilled from a vial on my arms. Let me tell you, in this bunch, Carnal Flower is the alpha female. And Carnal Flower's showdown with Love is nauseating.
That'll teach me to not pay attention to matchmaking my perfume friends!
I can only imagine you going Coldstone Creamery on your own ass because if you tried going Coldstone Creamery like that on anyone else's ass, you might get your ass kicked.
A moment about Clooney if I may. My impression of him is he's a pretty smart and witty fellow and yet before settling in with his current girlfriend, he only dated bimbos. (I use that term with the greatest respect, of course.) Like one after another. Models and cocktail waitresses who look like models and that's all.
George prides himself on his consistency.
But even if you're George Clooney, you have to occasionally sit across a dinner table from these women. How does he not get broken down by that experience? What do they talk about? Because I'm finding it hard dating anyone who doesn't have at least a Ph.D. Because I get bored. Does Clooney not get bored?
I've got to clear up my schedule so he and I can have lunch.
Headshot sorting via Mike Hulsebus