Welcome to the first syndicated TwerpsWorld blog series since WTF? Fridays bit it early last August, along with my creativity, when I started taking synthetic estrogen.
I have decided to undergo a long good-bye with New York. By the time I show my backside to this bustling metropolis, I will have lived here longer than I have lived anywhere else, except my hometown. Previously, when I'd left other cities or suburban locales, it was always post-haste. I never felt like I worked hard enough at getting what the hippies call, "closure" before I moved on.
New York is big and expensive and demanding, much like my coffee habit, so I have determined that it deserves a good-bye comensurate with my experience here. I'm going to break it up into weekly posts. Sometimes there will be only one (like the Highlander... or my dog), other times there may be more. I have a lot to put away concerning New York. And whatever doesn't get put away, gets sold!
As you can see by the title, this week's Good-Bye New York post is a farewell to Stinky Armpits. Now, don't get me wrong, I know I will continue to encounter Stinky Armpits wherever there is humanity, especially in a warm climate such as L.A.'s. However, the frequency of those encounters will decline drastically, and for that I thank the Baby Jesus!
There have been times during my tour here in New York when the stench of its collective underarm has nearly brought me to my knees. The city gets hot and steamy in the summer months. Everything becomes a moist breeding ground for the malodorous bacteria that causes STINK.
There are many types of stink. Some stinks are good, like I Just Worked Out Stink, I Just Had Sex Stink, or Boyfriend Stink. These are tolerable stinks that can actually be quite enjoyable. It's the Intolerable Stinks I can't say I'm sad to be leaving!
For example, the I'm An Escaped Mental Hospital Patient Who Hasn't Been Bathed In A Week And Whose Tongue Is Apparently Rotting In My Mouth But I Like To Ride The Bus And Stink My Way All The Way Down 2nd Avenue While Breathing Over Your Shoulder And Almost Causing You To Wretch Stink.
OR! I've Worked A Long, Hard Fuckin' Day On The Fuckin' Docks Doing Manual Labor, Like I Do Every Fuckin' Day, So Why The Fuck Should I Shower More Than Once Every Fuckin' Sunday When I Fuckin' Know I'm Just Gonna Fuckin' Stink Any Fuckin' Ways, Right? Stink.
I'm ashamed to shine the spotlight on I'm A Female, It's My Special Time, And I Clearly Don't Shower Everyday, Not Even In August, NOT EVEN DURING MY SPECIAL TIME, Which Means You Will Smell Me Before You See Me, And You Will Breathe In This Terrifying Smell The Whole Time You're In The Bathroom Stink. And that shit LINGERS, yo!
How odd is the I'm All Dressed Up To The Nines To Hit The Town With My Boys/Girls/Boo/Baby Mama/Baby Daddy Stink? You're dressed up! If it's an occasion for clean clothes, it's an occasion for CLEAN ARMPITS.
Of course, there's the I'm A Homeless Drunk And I Pass Out And Piss All Over Myself On Trains And Do This So Often That The Smell Of Stink And Urine Is So Potent, I Will Cause You To Nearly Die Of Suffocation Before You Can Flee From This Subway Car To Another, All The While Being Terrified Of Your Newfound Claustrophobia. Sometimes, these guys clear WHOLE CARS on the train!
A substink of the previous is the I'm A CRAZY Homeless Drunk And You Can Tell By The Self-Satisfied Grin On My Face And By The FATALLY ATROCIOUS STINK That I JUST Shit My Pants On A Hot, Crowded Subway Car, Yay Me! Stink.
But the WORST stink, even worse than I'm A Thirteen Year-Old Boy In The Throes Of Puberty And Deodorant Hasn't Occurred To Me Yet, But Can You Smell My Testosterone Tripling Even As You Stand There? Stink; worse than I'm In A Band And Why Would I Buy Deodorant When I Need All The Cash I Can Earn From "Gigs" Or Steal From My Employed-But-A-Sucka-For-Bad-Boys-Upper East Side Girlfriend's Trust Fund For My Ep And My Super Mod Haircut That So Artfully Falls Over My Face And Stays There With The Help Of 5 Days' Worth Of Scalp Grease Stink And Guess What? I'm Banging Your Roommate This Hot, Steamy Summer Stink, is the closely-related but by far the most ABHORRENT STINK EVER:
I'm A Hipster Living In Williamsburg/East Williamsburg And Since I Buy Expensive Clothes That Look Dirty And Torn, Spend $190 On Greasy Mod Haircuts, USED To Be In A Band But Left It When I Had A Huge Fight With The Drummer Who Had The Nerve To Tell Me, ME!, That I Was Out Of Tune!, Refuse To Bathe For Fear Of Looking Like Something Close To What My Upper Middle Class Parents Had Hoped For, Wear REALLY Dirty Jeans But Shop At Whole Foods When I'm Not Getting New Tatts, And Refuse To Wear Deodorant For Its Unsubstantiated But Widely-Publicized Cancer-Causing Properties, I Stink Because Its JUST NOT COOL ENOUGH To Have A Vaguely Pleasant Smell Stink.
Stinking for the sake of stinking is the most revolting stink that can possibly be imagined. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy (who, right now, is the new owner of H&U). I heartily bid it A fucking Dieu!
Good-Bye New York, and your hella Stinky Armpits!
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4 comments:
I just got a sudden urge to brush, floss, and rinse. Twice.
"ovfnduky"
What, no urge for Cool Fusion? ;)
"hrlrxjz" HA!
Hey, I hope you have a few fond memories that will make the list too!! I mean, the stinky ones are more fun to read about, but it can't ALL bad. Also, has no one told you how BAD the breath is of the average Angelino? (All due props to MFDC of course.)
You make a good point. Of course I'll be posting some fond memories. I'm sure, as I approach my Date of Imminent Departure From New York, I'll get all weepy and nostalgic. Partly because there are some aspects of New York which I will truly miss, but mostly because synthetic estrogen makes me cry like a little girl at a Ryan Cabrera concert.
As for the question of bad Los Angeles breath, vs. New York's Stinky Armpits, well, here's the thing...There are so many FOUL, disgusting, individual stenches in New York, that you can never quite get used to it. If the smell were more consistent, I'd learn to ignore it. However, it's consistently JARRING my delicate olfactory sensibilities.
In Los Angeles, the bad breath is really just the smell of rotting soul, and you just get used to it. It's really not so bad on the days when there's a land breeze.
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