Okay. Something has to be said. I, like many people, like to smell good – whatever “good” means. And I realize that “good smelling” has as many definitions as “snow” does to Inuit people (and yes, I know that the Inuits having upwards of 400 words for snow is an urban legend). But, Christ on a cross, can some of you people ease up on the perfume? I mean… a discrete yet strategic spray here and there on the body is all it takes to position yourself as a creature of unbridled desire. Yes, the mink urine will mingle with your Darwin-given pheromones and someone will be on your tail, as planned and as promised. But, “A little dab will do ya,” I think the saying goes.

Some people take this whole perfume thing way too far. They splash on a scent…then splash on some more, splashing and splashing like a panicky child’s first day of swimming lessons. They spray it against skin with the frenetic zeal of a window cleaner on crystal meth. PERFUME IS NOT MEANT TO RUN DOWN YOUR SKIN UPON APPLICATION! Perhaps these stinkerdoodles know that they will encounter you inside a hot, slow-moving elevator and they want to make your eyes water and your nose run as if you’ve overdosed on Chinese mustard. Or maybe their nasal receptors were removed during an alien kidnapping and they just don’t know when to stop with the atomizer’s nozzle. I don’t know why, but homosexuals and old women (often one and the same) are some of the worst offenders.

In the immortal words of Our Lady of Perpetual Moderation: “Dab, Not Douse; Spritz, Not Souse.”


Thank you.