Walking in Conspiracy

Perhaps I've been watching too much of the Lone Gunmen but when I read this I immediately thought conspiracy theory. He was awake and talking eh? Hmmmmm. Sad news anyhow, I rather liked his song Walking in Memphis. Sadly, I never really bothered with anything else Marc Cohn may have done.

The Monster Blog has a quick write up of how other people might think you stink if you're wearing too much perfume or any at all. This particular workplace niggle is part of my daily internal monologue of hate. My rantings are usually inspired by a woman who resembles a bleached blonde black wearing mutt-poodle mix who does something in the office next door. This tiny atrocity carries around a bag of something mysterious when she goes downstairs for a cigarette. The assault on the senses starts when she leaves the office door. A trail of the horrendous scent of Giorgio Beverly Hills tags along like one of her puppies would. It's obviously not overwhelming to her but it permeates the air and probably recycles to every other company on all 9 floors. As the added bonus of the dog-woman, every nook and cranny becomes infested with its foul scent when she sprays it on in the elevator. For the rest of the day then you get to sniff the blissful smell of a rotting middle-aged housewife.

I wish it was just on the outside that olafactory crimes are committed. My office is not an adequate hiding place for my poor assaulted nose. A couple technical women have visited our center in recent months and both were wearing Clinique perfumes. Clinique knows face care. Clinique does not know how to make a woman smell nice in a 'I'm not an employee of a massage business with benefits' kind of way. How do you approach this situation diplomatically? I'm not really sure. The darling Mr. Me once purchased Lynx deoderant as a substitute for his usual Body Shop after our nearest outlet closed. The response to that was to throw things at him until he understood that the real Lynx effect is to cause your partner headaches and fits of rage until you bury it deep in the earth never to return to man again. I can't really throw screwdrivers at the women who come here for training though, can I?