"You Smell Like Bullshit" Breath Mints
I've just finished riding an emotional retail roller coaster and had too much caffeine. What this means for you is that I will share the past 3 minutes of my life- all of which were quite disturbing in hindsight- because I'm too strung-out to realize there's no way I can come off well in this tale. What I DO know is that I feel an intense urge to go to church and apologize for ... well, you'll see in a second. So I'm trolling the Perpetual Kid site when what to my wondering eyes does appear but the little brown tin up above there. Important little info nugget: I am not wearing my glasses. I should be. As you will see shortly. Here is what happened next. Send your children out of the room if they can see the screen. Squinting, I leaned toward the computer and misread the tin to be: "You Smell Like Ball Sweat." This is where it gets troubling. I yelped- an actual YELP, yes- with glee. Why? No idea. I have no sentimental attachment to ball sweat. I have not been 'in the market' for any product with that essence. I have, in fact, no reason that I can imagine to be interested in ANYTHING to do with ball sweat. I'm also a grown-up. And, worst of all, THE MOTHER OF THREE CHILDREN. Yet I yelped with glee. This will haunt me for years to come. Trust me. I'm Irish Catholic after all. Anyway, I'll skip the psychoanalysis (you're probably thinking the psycho should be in CAPS, aren't ya....) and simply say that when I discovered it did not, in fact, say Ball Sweat I felt a wave of sincere disappointment. In the "Santa didn't bring me a puppy" way. I was sad for, like, 12 seconds. Sincerely sad. Then I gave myself a pep talk. Took another look at the whole situation and decided to put on a brave face, refresh the page and try and approach it with a positive attitude. And you know what? In doing so, I actually found that "You Smell Like Bull Shit" was pretty damn funny for a tin of mints. I mean, it's no "ball sweat" obviously but still. Not bad. So there ya go. Bet you're feeling a bit better about yourself now aren't you? If I can't be a good example to you then let me at least serve as a horrible warning..... _____________________ UPDATE!!!! Ok. Something just happened that does not surprise me at all. It's quite typical actually. Which explains why I need a cocktail or four at the end of many of my days. Sigh. Here goes: I left the above review EIGHT minutes ago. Then popped over to hotmail to have a look at my porn spam. Literally AS I WAS WRITING IT (the review, not the porn spam, just to be clear....), as I was going ON AND ON about how devastated I was to discover this product was not actually in any way associated with ball sweat, someone else was taking the time to send ME an email best summarized by the paragraph I will now cut and paste for you: "Giving back At age 16, Melvin Satterfield was homeless. Now, more than 30 years later, the Columbus, Ohio, furniture craftsman operates a highly rated business and mentors young people who are facing hard times." Frankly, I feel like Jesus just phished my hotmail account with the "soul" (note misspelling- an attempt to make dumb pun that only highlights further why Satan will one day be my eternal boyfriend) purpose of cyber-backhanding me. Really, there is no possible way I can compete in a comparison of the concurrent usage of time there. Pointless ball sweat rant vs homeless kid-turned-mentor inspirational email? I bet hell is going to smell like ball sweat. That would be my luck.