***DISCLAIMER***

***If you are my mom, brother, cousin, auntie, under 18, a co-worker, easily offended, extremely religious or anyone else otherwise under the false impression that I'm a sweetheart - then this content is NOT for you! You may exit without reading so that you're not looking at me crooked-eyed later, thank you kindly! ***

Monday, October 22, 2007

Some People Are Just Nasty v2

Dear Mr. Musty Man:

You stink.

Understandably, body odor as a result of a vigorous workout, run, or any other strenuous activity may be acceptable, (totally debatable depending on the amount, strength, consistency and smell of the funk, and how long it lingers) but it's acceptable only for the short length of time in between which you funk yourself and when you can either get into the shower or the nearest bathroom and wash your armpits off in the sink.

If you shower in the morning, as do millions of people, there is no need for your armpits to already be foul by the time you get to work. No reason at all. NO DAMN REASON AT ALL. If you shower at night and your wife has not yet told you that upon your awakening in the morning you are already FUNKY as hell, then she needs to be slapped for not making you wash before you leave for the day. That's a damn wifely duty, for a woman to tell her man that has no sense of smell obviously, when he isn't quite fresh enough to be around other people.

Why should everybody else in the office have to suffer because you have Hyperfunkyassarmpititis? Why can't you buy one of those trial sized deodorants that they sell in the little bins at Wal-Mart? If your armpits have a mind of their own and won't listen to Dial, Ivory or frikkin Irish Spring, buy several bottles of deodorant just to have on hand. As a matter of fact, buy several FULL-sized deodorants to distribute amongst your different environments. Feel free to experiment with different scents, because anything is better than your Scent Le' Singed Nose Hair.

Keep one in your car for when your armpits start raging during the 30 minute drive from your home to work. Keep one in your desk drawer for when your armpits start polluting the section of the office that I have to work in. Keep one in your fucking POCKET so that when you are animatedly plodding your shouldn'tbesodaggummed happy ass back and forth down the aisle in which my cubicle...I mean my office happens to be located, then you can carry your happy stinkin self right into the men's room and handle your business.

Please note, having deodorant at your disposal does not negate the necessity of you washing with SOAP in the first place. Now that I just wrote that, I seriously question whether you wash AT ALL.

Understandably, people sweat when they are nervous. People sweat when they are excited. People sweat when they are doing the nasty. People sweat for a variety of different reasons, and that's why there are hundreds of different brands of deodorant to address many of those reasons. You just sweat for no damn reason at all, and you stink.

I sweat like everyone else. I've even been at work and been so nervous for whatever reason, that I said to myself, "Self, you need to go to the bathroom and put them pits on lock." And on the DL, incognito, I take myself right into the bathroom and handle my business. I don't stop and conversate, I don't stop and wave, and I certainly don't zoom down the hallway leaving a dank smelling trail in my wake. See, I catch it early before it mutates into funk.

But if I smelled like YOU smell on a frikken regular basis??? I would not be prancing around waving my arms about acting like I was wearing the newest Cologne sample somebody pressed on me in the mall.

Sit down! We don't need to see you, 'cause we already smell you. Sweat by itself is generally odorless. It's sweat combined with your nasty dirty ASS that causes the funk.

I feel it's my duty to let you know, you are a walking health and fire hazard. I will need to go see an ENT specialist for my nose hairs that you singed at the printer 20 minutes ago. Totally my bad though, I inhaled. Silly me... Breathing, that is... FUNK should be listed as a flammable amorphous material, because you produce enough of it to start combustible fires with all the paper here in the office. You would think the static sparks from your all too-frequent self important strides up and down the carpeted hallway, combined with your funk fumes would cause an incendiary reaction. If not that, at least a chemical cloud that would burn our skin and eat away at the lining of our nostrils and throat.

Singing MY nose hairs is one thing, but people dying of suffocation because your malodorous funk particles attacked and destroyed all the oxygen in the air, THAT should be a serious offense punishable only by death or forced inhalation of bottled Paris Hilton.

Go sit your ass down and keep your arms down at your sides and your armpits contained. Better yet, go home and wash. Even Mo' Betta', don't come to work in the first place. You stink.

Even Mo' Mo' betta', go see a doctor about that shit. It's obviously a problem but there is medical treatment available to you. You stink really really bad.

Shame on you Mr. Musty Man, for not being able to smell yourself, and shame on your loved ones for allowing you to walk around smelling like a bum, you bum. You stinking bum.

Signed, "I happen to smell like Peaches today"
SG

Some People Are Just Nasty v1

Some people are just nasty.

I've come to accept a certain amount of nastiness in my life. I have three kids, so I'm really familiar with nasty in all it's many forms... and colors...and textures. Particularly mucous.





Snot, snot rockets, crust, phlegm, boog, boogies, boogers, bogey. Nasty.

Clear, white, yellow, white and yellow, pale yellow, vivid yellow, green, pale green, dark green, nautious green, putrid green, brown, blood tinged. Nasty.

Wet, viscous, dry, crusty, crustish, slimy, pasty, sticky, gummy, gooey, tacky. Nasty.




I know. Nasty.

I'm also an avid bookreader. Before becoming a member of the Books-A-Million Millionaire's Discount Club , I used to get a majority of my books from the Public Library.

Two reasons why I stopped.

Reason number 1. I stopped borrowing books and started buying them. I don't splurge on clothes, shoes or anything else really. I deserve to splurge on something. I am a woman, it's my God given right to splurge on something. I choose to splurge on my books. Send me in the bookstore and I'll come out with a smile on my face.

*Side note: Screw you men out there who think that just by taking a girl out to dinner and a movie, you're going to get in her pants. Dummies, you've got it all wrong!! Upgrade your layability factor. Buy a bitch a book, she love you long time.*

I love the smell of a brand new book. It's sexy. It turns me on. It makes me hot. I just wanna rip my clothes off and read the motherfucker. I'm getting moist just thinking about it.




Reason number 2.
Do you have any idea how filthy and nasty library books are? When I do have to get one, I am constantly washing my hands, and I'll never, ever fall asleep with the book tented over my face as I tend to do when reading one of my sexy, new books.

When I say nasty, as I intro'd, I'm specifically talking about boogers. For some reason, nasty motherfuckers love smearing a booger in a book.





Why is this? Books are sacred!! What's wrong with you people??

Why must I turn a page and have a crusty, brown, fossilized booger fall into my lap? How the fuck did I ever offend your nostril enough to deserve that? Not only is that shit nasty, I'll bet it's a health hazard and....damnit it's just NASTY.

I understand all too well the emergency nose pick where you absolutely have to go up in there and handle your business. In the case of emergency, by all means, pick your nose, but your library book is not the place to deposit your goober!!!





Now that said emergency is over, get your ass up and go get a napkin, tissue, wipe it on your pants, the back of your co-workers chair, shirt or desk, but in the name of all things Holy, don't smear it right where I have to turn the page in "Property of QT's Branch Library" (read: MY) book! Then wash your hands!!!!

If you're a Library Book Booger Smearer, I HATE YOU WITH A PASSION!!

I hope the next booger you try to flick off your finger ends up on the dashboard of your car, found by the next chick you go out on a date with!!! That is if your disgusting ass can even get a date!





I hope your mucous membranes dry the fuck up and you can NEVER produce another booger again! I'm going to laugh and say, "Aaah! Your mucous won't flow no mo'!"

I hope you have to spend an insane amount of money on saline sprays!!!

I hope your cilia fall out due to extreme dryness! Now not only can you not manufacture a boogie, you won't ever have the crust in your nose that tempts you to dig up in there in the first place!!

I hope you get an infection from all the bacteria that enter your body through unfettered nasal passages!!

I hope you die from your infection and when they bury you, your casket is lined in one big conglobulation of hundreds of random strangers dried up, flaky, ooey gooey boogers!!

If you're a Library Book Booger smearer, YOU'RE A NASTY MOTHERFUCKER!!!

You must, must, must, MUST respect the sexy, must PRESERVE the sexy!! That means you don't bend pages, you don't use paperclips, you don't tear corners, you don't write in the sexy, and you for damn sure don't leave your DNA in the sexy!!!

I HATE YOU!!!

And if you're an Audiobook Booger Smearer, I HATE YOU EVEN MORE!!!!

Tamn you!! Can't a sista listen to a gat tamned BOOK ON FUCKIN' TAPE without opening up the case and seeing a BOOGER on tape fuckin' ONE!?!!?!!?!

I'm so mad I can't even type my D's properly! d/t whatever. Fuck those squiggly little red spellcheck lines!!



****Screams silently so as to not wake the kids****

"BASsSSSSSTAAARRRRRRSSSSS!!!"


People, don't mess with my books. It makes me crazy.

Slim Nerdsta out.