OUR LOVELY BOUQUET!

It rained today, which is unusual for this time of year. Rain in San Francisco diminishes people's consideration for each other, as they are desperate to not get moisture on their expensive hairdos, and will gladly rip out someone's eyes by accident with the vicious spokes on their umbrellas if that proves necessary unavoidable.
Up yours, buster, immigrant from the Midwest coming through!

Rain also brings out smells and makes them stronger. Earth, dirt, greasy asphalt. Expensive wet hairdos and soaked designer jeans.....  
Gee, that's an ENORMOUS amount of denim - are there a lot of were-elephants in Detroit?
The odious funk of wet Midwesterner on the bus.
Gasoline, tree moss, fresh green leaves.
As well as the delicious 'perfume' of that foxy looking smoker - a delicate undertone of aged pressed Virginia pipe tobacco, with an intoxicating top note of fine cigarillo - whose personal fragrance spectrum is infinitely appealing, sexy even!
Mmmmmmmm-a-liscious!


It must be because of the rain that the office kitchen stinks today.

A robust, fecund, earthy, miasma of death, disease, and tropical fruit.

We can't identify what it is. But this is the first time I've ever seen someone (the CFO) spray Febreze on a garbage can. Suffice to say that it did not work. But it did add considerably to the smell, and most of us are now scared to go near.
The building super has been called.
Naught will be done till eventide.
For sanity's sake, don't breathe.

Personally, I don't mind the smell. It's rather like durian.
But sweeter, which must be the effect of the Febreze. The entire cocktail of reeks is a mere nose-echo from where I sit, never absent but not at prime puky peak of funk.
It's bearable. Mysterious, and evocative.

"You know what that's called in Louisiana?"

"A boo-fay!!!"

That jibe was uttered by the Senior Veep of Marketing in the direction of the CFO, who hails from the gulf coast. The CFO took it in good grace, despite sitting closer to the source of general nausea than anyone else. Earlier, he himself had eloquently and at great length accused me of deliberately not finishing my dead rat sandwich yesterday, once he heard me saying that whatever it was in the waste bucket wasn't there on Sunday.
How could I, had I no heart for other people?
Dang, Atboth, you're a mean sumbitch!
No wonder I did collections!

By the time the Senior Veep made his crack about 'boo-fay', it smelled more like deceased skunk than dead rat.  That is much more a Louisiana thing, I think.

Still, we don't know if the smelly item is, or was, food. If it was food, someone in the company has started eating zombies. Which is probably the latest diet-craze.
Betcha they'll lose weight.

We all will at this rate.


FINAL NOTE

This blogger's beguiling personal aroma at present is more Latakia than cigarillo.
Reason being that I had a bowlful of something dark before lunch.
It was yummy. I smell good.

That thing in the kitchen is growling.

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