Stinky Skin and UGG Boots

Those of you who know me intimately enough to understand the way my mind works (I apologize for that) understand my, apparently,  instinctive need to blurt out whatever is on my mind.  Sure, I attempt to employ a reasonable level of discretion, but usually my idle attempt at whispering beneath the requisite 4 foot radius of wandering ears -- namely the ears of my current target -- fails miserably.  So, I wait.  And wait. And wait some more until the mark is far enough from me so that I may speak in my normal tone of voice without the sound waves straying to the wrong set of ears.

Which, more often than not, bugs the living shit out of my audience of one.

Today, I was taking a leisurely walk with a friend to get some chow.  Before us, two women.... strike that -- two women dressed like teenagers.  Bodies, decent enough.  Faces, not certain, though one turned to show a slight profile for a brief second.  Kinda looked around 35 or so. Then again, perhaps she ages prematurely, and is closer to 20.  Really, it doesn't matter.

What DOES matter were the clothing they wore, and how they smelled.

That smell!  That sickly sweet scent resembling the bastard child of jasmine and vanilla.  It's range!  Easily recognizable from 20 feet, nearly unbearable from 10.  Granted, I'll take the disgustingly sweet stink of whatever these women were wearing over Patchouli any day of the week and twice on Sunday, but GIVEN a choice, I'd prefer a single bullet to my skull.  Don't get the wrong impression: I enjoy a woman who smells nice, especially if they understand pH balance and delicate application of chosen product.  Dumping your body in a vat of molasses-scented shit, however, is quite another story altogether.

When I happen across such an individual, three theories pop into my mind:

A) She has NO clue what the fuck she's doing, and probably runs through bottles of perfume like a drunken sailor runs through bottles of rum.

B) She forgot to take a shower and SMELLS like noted drunken sailor.

C) She had sex with a drunken sailor and never made it home. Wandering the streets, she happened upon a gas station, purchased one of those christmas tree air fresheners, and fastened it around her neck like some frickin' BFF pendant.

My money is on #3, since her and her friend were dressed, at 11:00am on a Tuesday morning, as though they're in desperate need of some bad-assed rave.  Who the Hell were they trying to impress, passing truckers?  

Then again, if the answer is #3 then, yeah, they most likely were.