Wednesday, March 15

No Scents Whatsoever.

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(You might want to stick around for this story, it's pretty good.)

As you can probably imagine by looking at photos or recklessly fantasizing, I smell great.

I mean, I always smell great, regardless of whether I just stepped out of the shower or a condemned bait shop that's on fire. It's one of my few gifts (along with my ability to eat a 16-inch sub in 39 seconds), one which I truly respect and treasure. Sure, I sweat and get filthy like everyone else, but it takes my body mere seconds to attack and destroy the foul perversions of cleanliness, leaving nothing behind but the fresh scent of pine and cinnamon. If you ever were to meet me, you'd be enthralled and encapsulated by my pheromones, unable to stand more than 4 inches away from me at all times.

My current cologne of choice is Swiss Army. While this particular scent isn't the most popular in the world, you can find at almost any department store. It's about $60 for a thimble-sized amount, but it's totally worth it to smell original. I haven't met a lady yet who wasn't completely smitten with it. It's a secret weapon that I trust you not to share with too many guys. My reputation is at stake. Some of my other favorites include Cool Water, Preferred Stock and Polo, although most of these have been collecting dust under my bathroom sink for some time now, shuddering with awe in the presense of the Army. I have a Cool Water air freshener in my car, too, in case you wanted to know that the Wild Stallion smelled like. I know you did.

Scents are important, and are the closest thing to a time machine us (we) humans have. Scents instantly transport us back to the most memorable time we last took it into our lungs. It's crazy the things you can remember when floored with the right smell; or sometimes, the things you would rather forget.

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(According to legend, my Grandpa designed the wolf still used as the team logo. No foolin'.)

When I was a freshman in High School, I wore traditional Old Spice aftershave and cologne, mainly because it was already in the house and I didn't want to go buying anything else. Besides, there was something about the red sailboat on the bottle that screamed 'manly!' to me, even at such an oily and adolescent age.

One night, before a big football game, I slathered it onto my tiny 14 year old body with the ferocity of a man on a mission. Well, a little boy on a mission, at least. It was going to be a big night for me, as I was all set to make my move on a friend I had been sidling up to for a while. While I don't recommend attempting to turn good female friends into possible mating partners, sometimes you just gotta go for it, and let the Old Spice do all the heavy lifting.

So, there I was, sitting in the bleachers next to her. We'll call her 'Margaret.' I was insanely overdressed for a football game, sporting the single best outfit I had in my arsenal. Unfortunately for me, my best outfit in 1996 was an extra-large plaid collar shirt and super-tight pants. I hadn't yet learned that when I picked out things to wear, other people would actually, you know, see them.

Besides, that's what was popular in 1993, and I hadn't gotten around to buying any new clothes since then. My mom figured that I'd be an extra-large someday, it was only a matter of time before the plaid fit me perfectly. My pants, however, shrunk every day with my ever-growing puberty frame. I felt like the Incredible Hulk, pants tearing up the seams, rivets popping out like old Chevy pistons.

Denim squeaking and tugging with every shift of my buttocks on the freezing cold bench, I got closer to Margaret as we talked. In the distance, a friend got my attention and remarked that my outfit was "Lookin' good!" Of course, he was almost certainly lying to me, or too far away to even make out who I was. Come to think of it, that guy wasn't even talking to me.

Me and Margaret talked about school and whatnot, getting closer with each break in the conversation. My braces and oily T-zone glistened off of the floodlights as I pulled out every joke and 1970's celebrity impression I could think of. She took it in like I was the Toronto skyline.

At the exact same time I made my move to hold her hand, the almost toxic scent of Old Spice wafted into her nostrils like an unleashed chemical weapon. I could tell she was investigating what the odor was, and it was only a matter of time before she became drunk off the fumes and passed out into my lap, begging me to take her to the backseat of her mom's Chrysler LeBaron.

"Oh, you're wearing Old Spice," Margaret said, looking directly into my eyes with a kind of calm urgency.

"Yup, that's right," I fired back, smooth as a silk pillow.

"Well, my dad wears Old Spice," she said, slowly looking down and letting go of my hand.

I was ruined. It was all over. Nobody wants to think of their own father when they're in a situation like this. Out of all the colognes and aftershaves in the world, I had to choose the same one that her stupid dad liked to wear. In the distance, I could hear him laughing and slapping gallons of Old Spice onto his neck and cheeks, content that he successfully chastised me from over 35 miles away.

In less than five minutes, Margaret was gone, talking to that guy who made fun of my outfit. The football game hadn't even started yet.

Cradling my head in my hands and trembling with defeat, I looked around for a friendly face. I found some friends that were sitting in the top row of bleachers, and took a seat. I told the guys what had happened, and they did their best to cheer me up and take my mind off of the situation.

Now, when most guys are faced with this sort of monumental rejection and humiliation, they normally do something monumentally stupid to compensate for it, and that's exactly what I did. My friends had this horrid idea to take off a piece of clothing every time our team scored a touchdown. Thinking that the game would be a blowout in the opposite direction, we all talked big and swore that we were game for the stunt. Bear in mind that it was probably 35 degrees out that night, so if we didn't get kicked out, creeping death would come knocking eventually. If this wasn't bad enough, someone had plastered me with maroon lipstick at some point, which were our team colors.

As you would assume, this happened to be the night our team scored 63 points.

Off came the giant plaid shirt, down came the painted-on pants. A small mound of shoes, socks and baseball caps started to form under our bench. There I stood, in front of Margaret and about 500 of my new best friends, making sure everyone knew that I could handle rejection and teenage defeat with amazing bravado and charm. Bare feet freezing to the bleachers, my nipples rock-hard and blue with frost, I made a stand. If anyone was going to make me look like an ass, it was going to be me, or at the very least, my friends.

We were asked to leave before it all went terribly wrong, but know that I would have finished what I started.

Shivering and clutching my clothes, still radiating Old Spice in all directions, I walked into the parking lot and waited for my Mom to pick me up. Adding insult to injury, the lipstick that I was wearing caused an allergic reaction, swelling and cracking my lips to Jolie-like proportions. I looked like I had been robbed of my clothes, repeatedly punched in the face and left for dead in a freezer. On the inside, however, I felt toasty warm with pride.

And that's what I think of when I smell Old Spice.

Before I go today, I wanted to hand out a Commie Award.

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Peter Tomarken died in a plane crash with his wife early this week (story here). He was best known as the host of one of my favorite game shows of all time, Press Your Luck. I still take in an hour of PYL every weekend. The Game Show Network will be running a Press Your Luck marathon tonight and again over the next few days, so check 'em out if you get the chance.

Spill it in the comments section. Lost Friday may or may not be 48 hours away, I haven't decided yet.

My Dad wears old spice, too. And while I love the smell of Old Spice (purely for the childhood and "daddy hero worshipping" memories it invokes) I could never EVER date anyone who wore Old Spice. Too Oedipus-like for my taste.

Men have to be very careful with their choice of cologne, since scent is such a strong memory trigger. If you wear a cologne that is too popular, you run the risk of wearing the same cologne as a potential date's ex-boyfriend; which could either remind her of how great he was and have her run back to him or associate you with the same type of jackass crap he used to pull. This is why I also can't date anyone who wears Ralph Lauren's POLO Sport: Good fragrance, strong memories.

Happy Ides of March! It's a good day to stay indoors and keep your back away from windows and doors!
I fear assassination attempts constantly, so this is like any other day for me.

See, you know what I'm talking about. It's really easy to blow the call when it comes to stuff like this. I'm in a good place with the Swiss Army; it's such a novelty that anyone wearing it gets noticed in a good way. If you haven't given it a test drive yet, check it out the next time you're at the mall and give me a woman's opinion on it. I'm always collecting demographic info.

Every now and then I'll pass someone at the mall or on the street wearing a scent that I remember from back in the day. It's such a weird feeling; like what the castaways must feel like when they're having a flashback. It's like being shot out of a cannon, trying to make your brain catch up with your nostrils and figure the mystery out. Then you remember all this stuff you were supposed to forget, and cry in the Food Court until your mom picks you up.
That is brilliant. That completely sounds like something that would have made a great episode of Freaks and Geeks, every little detail.
Thank you, sir. Every word of it is true.

Every now and again, a story will jump into my head that I can't believe I haven't already shared on here. There is something very Wonder Years or F&G about it; I should have sold the rights to it years ago.

Sadly enough, there's more where that came from.
Maybe it is because I am "older", but I really love Old Spice.
There's nothing wrong with Old Spice, it's just that I picked the wrong time to wear it. On a childhood dare, I think I even tasted some of the stuff. As I'm sure you all know, cologne does not taste like it smells.

The Missus has some Cotton Candy body spray I tasted once (because I'm either an idiot or have Pica), and I spent the next two hours rinsing, spitting and cursing myself for being so stupid. She doesn't laugh at my jokes, but doubles over when I hurt myself.
Back in "the day" the cologne of choice was Drakkar Noir. That was the secret key to the female heart. It didn't matter how many guys wore it. You could watch a girl catch a whiff and start to walk a little taller, her soul instantly gravitating toward yours trying to discover what alluring mysteries you held. At least, that's what it looked like to a male teenage adolescent struck ret.. slow by hormones.

Seriously, after the DK experiment I never wore cologne. Of course my college was 90% male. There was an ether of testosterone gently pervading all aspects of campus life. Are you wearing cologne? Bet you wear your underwear backwards too. I don't think they have created the scent that could break that boundary. I never gave it much thought after school either. When you're out at sea if you smell different from diesel, coffee, or rust you WILL attract attention.

I now prefer good ol' Old Spice. I remember my Dad wearing it. Since having kids myself I feel an overwhelming obligation to provide that same memory association for my own children. Do you think I could pull that off with Drakkar Noir? Probably not.
I think you're contractually obligated to wear Old Spice if you have kids. Working on a boat only sweetens the deal; that stuff was tailor-made for you.

The Missus likes really musky colognes, which although isn't a bad thing, reminds me way too much of the 80's (See Drakkar Noir). If I wear 'brighter' smelling scents like Tommy or Polo, she makes a reference to me smelling like pee, and it's back to the Swiss Army I go.

They should make a cologne that smelled like diesel, coffee and rust. Seriously, that brings me back to when I was working at the Co-Op. It would be called 'Truck Stop.'
There's some random company that makes really bizarre colognes and perfumes. One of the scents made you smell like hay, as if you were out working in the barn all day. Another made you smell like whiskey and tobacco. It seems a little pointless, yet brilliant at the same time. "I didn't have time to drink a bottle of whiskey and smoke a pack of cigarettes, but this cologne made me smell like I did."
Some women really like the smell of whiskey and tobacco on a guy. Most of these women are my aunts.

Yeah, no kidding. If you want to smell like that, just stop at an ATM in a bowling alley.
'Bowling Alley ATM' should be a cologne. Along with the following:

'New DVD Player Box'
'4-H Pavilion'
'Weekend Dad'
'Carnival Ticket Booth'
'Cat Ear Medication'
'Lonely Older Woman At The Bar Who Won't Stop Hitting On You'

Ahhh, it all takes me back.
A bit of research, and I have a url for that company:

Demeter Fragrance Library
Good lookin' out. They have a ton of scents.

Cannibis Flower is the most useless. If you want to smell like pot, something tells me that you already do.
Hey it looks like a lot of those are just fancy names for the same basic thing: stale urine
If I smelled like candy and dessert all day, I'd either lose or gain 50 pounds, without question.

I read somewhere that men respond the most to the scents of Vanilla and Cinnamon Rolls. I think that explains why I get excited every time I walk by a CinnaBon, but never want to eat anything there.
The best aftershave for men

I know that you want to look your best, and if you are thinking into adding something different to your looks, and aftershave for men is a good pace to start, a good aftershave for men is a cologne that will serve many different purposes, and that is precisely why you need to take such a care when deciding what to look for. Since there are so many options out there, I recommend that you do not let yourself be guided by prices, I suggest that you instead look for those things that will give you benefits instead of debts, so what I am trying to say here is that you most look around, find those products that you think that have the best solutions to what you think your skin needs and then try them.

Of course, this method of selection gets really carried away when what you want is to also smell good, in other words, you are going to be getting a product that will provide you incredible benefits and good stuff, you are also going to be getting the one that has your smell, so make sure that you do find that product and start using the best product that is going to help you have better skin, which will have a great and smooth feel to it, also, your skin will be protected from getting any infections and a very important thing, these aftershave for men products will also avoid that you get those nasty looking rashes that appear after having had shaved, those rashes can really ruin your look, but it is not something to worry about when you use a good aftershave for men, this is the difference that is going to make you look much more than just great, this is the final touch that will make you irresistible to any women, this aftershave for men, and of course a little smooth on your own would not be bad either.

You look like my brother. He don't want to go outside of the house until he smells great! :)

LuveEssentials pheromones attract women

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