I found out the hard way that my cologne smells like gladiator armpits.
Picture this. I say to Ethan, "Good heavens, Son, what is that smell?" I check his diaper and it is clean as a dia..., well it is at least non-poopified at the moment. And then he spits up as if to spite me. Then we proceed to the usual suspects; a dog with a guilty look. They are terrible liars aren't they? Well, they are outside enjoying some dog time, a safe distance away from being framed for anything.
Trash can? Nope, emptied today. Emily's closet? Probably not...that smell is usually a little more pronounced plus it comes with its own cloud. Maybe a barnyard animal urinated on me when I wasn't looking?
You think I am kidding. Once upon a time we were searching a barnyard for a lost boy who was later found deceased, an innocent victim of another monster boyfriend to the child's mother..... Well, the barnyard had goats with cute little beards. How cute with the little beards and how cute that they like to rub up against us. It was not until later that I learned that the goats, all males, whizzed on their own beards and then rubbed their beards on stuff to mark their territory. Like dogs, only sneakier. Bad, bad goats. Boy did I stink that day. A bad day all around.
My second urine interlude is about fox pee. Seriously folks, go to your lawn & garden store and smell this stuff...you will never, ever be the same. Emily and I do it sometimes just to be gross while the clerks just roll their eyes. Then we laugh about how in tarnation the fox pee people actually harvest the fox pee. We envision a game of drawing straws, with the loser taking a Dixie Cup, and hopefully a steady hand (!), into the habitat to collect their sample. Sounds like a great episode for "Dirty Jobs" on Discovery.
But I digress...
So my inner voice says, "man, I hope that is not ME that stinks!" So I do the male two-step sniff test: smell my breath in my hand and then sniff each arm pit. I pass inspection. I did after all just shower - with soap AND water this time - for goodness sake.
So being the clue conscious guy that I am, I started to wonder why a) Ethan's eye's watered when he got near me b) the dog's sniffed me and then wanted to immediately go back outside in the fresh air c) Emily begged to go into her room to do her homework (she has immunity from her closet I guess) and d) Tonya gave me look #73458, you know the one guys: "I love you dear, but part of me misses the days when you took better care of your hygiene in order to impress me and to promote intimacy."
So, alone and ostracized by my very own family (whimper, whimper), I reconstruct my day piece by miserable piece to figure out what I ate or touched that created such a funkified odor.
Ah ha! My cologne! I recently pulled the suspect bottle out of the back-fill basket and it had turned as rancid as an 1000 year old duck egg.
You hear about the blond that went to the doctor complaining that her whole body hurt wherever she touched it? The doctor could not duplicate her pain so the doctor asked her to demonstrate. The blond touched her forefinger on her knee and yelled "ow!", then touched her forefinger on her shoulder and again an "ow!". After a few more similar touches, the doctor announced the problem: her forefinger was broken. Duh.
So, the moral of the story is...if it smells like a gladiator's armpits everywhere around you, wherever you are then to be on the safe side, either don a tunic, a sword and a shield and call yourself Spartacus...or go take a shower.