Why it had to end
Ex-mrsPJM...

Although she was no shower dodger and indeed agreeably fragrant on occasion she had some downright foul personal habits.

1) Peeing in the shower. Am I alone in finding this absolutely disgusting? I'd come home after a session at the gym needing a good soak in the bath, but the knowledge that I was sat in what had become a female urinal (feurinal, feminal?) made me heave.

2) Not changing her slippers. Being female and as a result unable to control her body temperature prompted ex to invest in a pair of cartoon fluffy slippers to potter around the house in. They left no room for feet to breathe naturally and as a result would stink to high heaven within a few weeks of use. All attempts at trying to reason with her met with "Oh, but my feet get cold!" and that was that.

3) Pets. Lots and lots of bloody pets, everywhere. Now I love animals, I really do. I'm a sucker for anything cute and fluffy being a real old softy at heart. However, having to spend every Monday night scrubbing rat piss from a cage (particularly pungent) was not nice. Having found that the frozen mouse which had been placed in the airing cupboard to defrost before it met it's intended fate of being snake food had exploded and scattered stinky rodent innards all over the place also wasn't nice. A friend commented, "You have so many pets in this house, what about the smell?" I replied "Oh, they get used to it. I did".

4) Minge plucking. Okay, I'm a man of the world and know that lady-trimming is a given and to be honest I'm damn grateful for it. However, it isn't nice to be sat there on the sofa watching the wife with her legs spread tweezing away for hours at the same square cm of fluff. I can understand her reluctance to try waxing, but I don't need to be sweeping fuzz off the sofa before I sit on it.

4) "This my wife. She make much noise when she do a toilet" in the words of Borat. The same applied to mine, as the bathroom was right next to the bedroom a certain lack of decorum was understandable but at 7:45 every morning I was subjected to the sort of unholy racket that no man ought to hear. I wouldn't mind so much if no evidence of the recent movements remained, but the bowl would invariably be less than sparkling. The thought of intimate relations after that are gut churning.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 23 Mar 2007, 10:14, Reply)

geeky's pants
another one.

during the my punk days i knew this bloke called geeky' he had these crusty dungarees which he always wore and probably never washed. he had this habit of getting wasted on cider and passing out. then pissing himself.

so, in our circle anything nasty was called 'geekys pants'. this was eventually shortened to 'pants' - it took a few years, but the word spread and i'm sure that you've said it once or twice yourself. now you know why.

all thanks to a geordie punks dungarees! i feel honoured.
(localhost, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 10:11, Reply)

Drunken Uni acquantaince of the female variety
was having her period and popped in a tampon before collapsing into bed after a heavy session of "Purple Plasma" (pint of snakebite with a double pernod and black dropped in).

Woke up in the morning feeling slightly bloated to find that she'd forgotten to take out the old one.

Yeuch!
( Blackdogmanguitar is out with Fat Larry's Jazz Band on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 10:05, Reply)

many many people
so many memories... wish i could edit my memory sometimes!

there was this guy at university who was in the same flat as me. i'd completely forgotten about him and his name till this qotw turned up. thanks alot!

for a full year, we never heard his shower running once. i was an insomniac at uni and can vouch for the fact that it wasn't running during the night.

his particular stench was unforgiving. it was like someone had found a way to get milk from plastic cows, then turn that pvc milk into cheese. then set it on fire. he'd walk around in this haze - like his own personal force field. i swear that you could actually see the light bending as it passed through his noxious atmosphere. it was the kind of smell that would make you physically recoil, fearing for your life. deeply buried racial memories would awaken and send urgent panic messages to the brain - screaming 'unclean! run away!'

i had the misfortune of sitting next to him in a couple of lectures. even sitting in the same theatre as him was a punishment from god, but next to him? all you could think of was getting into your shower with a brillo pad and bottle of jif while the seconds slowly ticked by.... people sat next to him would develop the same expression as a gazzelle cornered by a pack of hungry hyena.

i'm going to spend the rest of day wanting to shower now. thanks b3ta.
(localhost, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 10:00, Reply)

Turkish men do not deodorise
ever been in a Turkish dolmus (18 seat minibus with 30+ passengers) then you'll know that Turkish men (and the laydeez) may wash, but certainly haven't heard of the Lynx effect.

Smelly indeed.
(urgle-splurgle molesting small goats since, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 9:41, Reply)

steer clear of the pies...
Had a flatmate who in all the time he lived with us (at least a year) never washed his sheets. Eventually the ambience in the flat was such that polite words were said (and they WERE fairly polite...the kind of people who feel that old Morris Marina seats make a damn fine lounge suite are generally not inclined to get too uptight about housekeeping). Flatmate took this rather badly and moved out. On clearing out his room afterwards we discovered not only most of the house plates (unwashed) under his bed but also a selection of his kid's disposable nappies, with contents. Said kid hadn't even been around for weeks.
The guy worked in catering. That was what really bugged us.
(scuttlefish is drifting into the arena of the unwell, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 9:40, Reply)

huge gaping hole
I work with an awful man named david. now, i'm a jolly fat man myself, but david is at least 1.5x of me. I'd say he must weigh at least 400lbs although he claims moreso around 350.

But I digress.

He does not shower. He always smells of something. He sweats like michael jackson at chuck-e-cheese on boy scout night.

that's not the biggest thing though. yes, he has BO, and it's worse now that he's stopped drowning himself in axe body spray before work.

i work in food service, by the way. customers and co-workers alike insist that i make sure that david does not handle their food.

here's the best part. he's got this hole in his leg. apparently it's eight inches long. it is a diabetic ulcer. it gets infected a lot, and you can tell how bad it is by how much he reeks like rotting garbage.

i don't know if he bathes at all. he'll never get over his stink either, because he drinks all his pay away, and shouldn't be drinking in the first place being a diabetic. he is just awful
(dr3wrocks, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 9:17, Reply)

well...
I woke up this morning in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt after a long night of boozing (to get over the previous night's boozing). I pulled some jeans on, sprayed a bit of lynx, shaved, brushed my teeth, washed my face, threw a clean shirt on over the t-shirt and then cycled into work. I think my workmates are used to the fact that I'm anything but a calvin klein advert....and if they don't then fuck 'em, they're only bees (or something).


I'm still pissed, sorry.
( yes yes yes man oi mate, someone's writtten 'bum' on your neck, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 9:16, Reply)

Watching CSI last night
We watched Gil sniff his wrist. My missus passed me her wrist, in what I thought was an amusing homage to the fat freak on the box. She delivered a stunning stink palm. Bastard had had her hand down her arse crack for ages.
(Give me the cheese you cocksucker No board sig in protest., Fri 23 Mar 2007, 9:13, Reply)

Related joke
A man is released from prison after a long sentence and goes straight to the nearest brothel. Unfortunately, he has only a tiny amount of money and a very specific requirement.

"I've got 5 dollars and it must be redhead," he says.
"For five dollars you can go in the toilets and wank yourself," says the madame.
"Haven't you got anyone who'd do me a favour? A redhead."
"Well ... there is Red Mary ..."
"Yes! She's the one for me. here's my five dollars."

So he is ushered into a room, but emerges seconds later unsatisfied.

She's not a real redhead. Her collars and cuffs don't match."
"Wave away the flies," advises the madame.
(frankspencer, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 9:12, Reply)

Blaaaaarg!
I work with two guys who smell rank.

One, a manager, is a strange bloke. Has the look about him of Golem. Truely, he has more than a passing resemblance of the Tolkein character. And when ever you get near him you can smell the combination of sour sweat and bitter fag smoke. It's like he sleeps in a really warm ash tray.

However, he is not as bad as the guy on the shop floor who simply smells of ass. Really sweaty ass. Think continuously worn pants, 2 weeks old, after a number of marathons in a tropical country. He has to wear a uniform and I think he never washes it. Ever.
Unlike the manager, you can actually tell where this guy has been, in the last 5 minutes, as this all encompassing smell lingers for ages. Its not just simply a smell of crap; more a "fermented throat catching anal leakage" sort of an odour.

What is even more shocking is that no one ever refers to it, but you can clearly see people reacting when he gets close.
(moondust, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 8:58, Reply)

My mother...
...works in the office of a local GP. There is an old man that comes in once a fortnight for the nurse to clean his arse properly.

I often* wonder who decided on the frequency of said bum washing.

*not that often
(Leenis is cool., Fri 23 Mar 2007, 8:26, Reply)

Dole Office
I once worked at the dole office, otherwise known as The Place That Personal Hygiene Forgot.

Thursdays were the worst - that was the day that all the homeless, drunks and tramps came in for their money, and staff would go about their work with blobs of Vicks Vapor Rub under their noses to mask the awful, awful smell of piss, shit, sweat, puke and cider.

It was even worse when it rained, as you could actually see the smell rolling about the place in a big, grey cloud.

I saw with my own eyes, one of the newer staff - unaware of the sheer awfulness of the situation - projectile vomit her lunch all over her big tray of claims, the desk, and the flexiglass which prevented the smelly old derelict on the other side from getting a face-full.

His reaction: "Am I still getting my money, or what?"

I packed it all in and got a job with cows.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 7:54, Reply)

if it's a hot day

and you've had a wank, cover it up with a doona or something, because the sight of a group of flies eating it is not very pleasant.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 7:32, Reply)

Hospital
I'm currently sat here at 7:17 am not having had a shower in a long time.

It all started about 3 weeks ago, 2 operations, bla bla stitchy stitchy don't get them wet. Would have been easy enough if one set of the stitches wasn't in my ARSECRACK.

Got even worse a week after this, armpit is slightly pongy and a bit sore, i ignore it. Go play a night of pool with the lads and come home with a lump in my armpit the size of a golf ball. Bit worried, go to bed.

Wake up in 4 hours time and wonder why I'm soaking wet, why my bedsheets around my arm are brown and why my arm hurts more than imaginable.

Turns out it was an abscess caused by a blocked sweat gland after not showering for a week and having problems there before. The pus ridden monstrosity had burst while i was asleep, releasing pus and poison everywhere that smelt worse than rotting meat (used to work in a rotisserie, side tip, don't workin a rotisserie!) and was a little scary cos my oxter had made it...

The process they heal these with involves having a hole in your arm for around 2 weeks (there is still a hole in my armpit as we "speak") which is packed with stuff to absorb excess pus and arm curds and so that it heals from the bottom up so as not to create a void in my arm. Not cool, cue every 2 days, smelly old me going to hospital to have this changed and nearly choking on the smell of the crazy arm cheddar coming out of my pits.

Stitches out of ass and leg today woo and yay. Arm still being poked for at least another week, not so woo and yay.

Length? Sorry, It's my first time. *POP* posting cherry, bye bye.

*edit* jesus, 2 years as a lurker...
(knifeh and Mrs Knifeh discovered radioactive bacon!, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 7:25, Reply)

Bum Sweat
I work in a panel walled factory unit, at roof level just under the clear roof windows, and prior to us getting air conditioning in, it got fairly warm in summer - it didn't help that we had film and printing plate processors with inline heaters on, running all day. (110+ degrees fairly regularly).

As you can imagine we sweated like a fat lass in a rubber dress. Several of us were so bad we got chafing where our sweaty buttocks rubbed together. (Not together in a gay orgy way, individually in our own boxers).

I used to come home, go straight to the bedroom, throw all my clothes in a heap on the bed and have a long cool shower before throwing everything in the wash.

However, one day i didn't grab my boxers, and that night stumbled to bed in the dark, lay down and put my face straight into a pair of my own bumsweat stained pants.

Funnily enough though, once the initial retching had subsided, the smell was quite addictive - a bit like when you sniff your own toe jam.

I can understand why dogs sniff each others bottoms.
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 6:46, Reply)

Ear Cheese
I have stretched ears to a width of 5mm, as seems to be the 'in' thing to do with the teenage population, I guess.

I usually clean my plugs every day or so, to clean off the gunk (dead skin cells, lymph, and in some cases, a bit of blood or pus) that accumulates on the jewelry. It happens on all piercings, but gets much, much worse at increasing sizes.

Lovely stuff really, as you can see. It's bad enough on it's own, but the smell of the stuff is absolutely rank. It's really indescribable, but somewhere between the smell of rotting cheese and ass. (Thus, the name "ear cheese".) I've not had it happen to me, but with some of these little buggers that don't wash their jewelery, the stench can be smelled several feet away from them.

However, it does lead to childish fun by wiping it on your housemate's nose and watching their reaction.

Length? Oh, around 5mm.
(to the lighthouse, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 4:18, Reply)

Possibly one of the most disgusting things to happen to me...
Despite the fact that I'd repeatedly told my band director that I have no interest in taking up the saxophone, I showed up on the first day to find a girl thrusting a saxophone at me and telling me she'd show me how to play it.
Very well.

Unfortunately, this saxophone was provided by the school. As such, it stayed there, and the members of the band they set up for the little ones used it as well.

So I arrive one fine day, assemble said saxophone, and am compelled to look down the mouthpiece for whatever odd reason. When I do so, I am greeted with the sight of vomit produced by the last child to use it.

I was told, "Just wash it out a little and it'll be fine".

I got the flu a few days later.
(Fnooklemop, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 3:05, Reply)

Gah!
I had a patient once who insisted for weeks to her family and doctor that a fly had gotten into the cavity where her eye and some of the surrounding flesh had been taken out. It was bandaged over and no one believed her.

She came in to stay with us for a while after the doctor took off the bandage to inspect the wound and a tiny bluebottle brazenly flew out.

We had to debride the maggots daily.*

And now for your viewing pleasure:

allnurses.com/forums/f58/what-your-most-gross-yucky-disgusting-nursing-horror-story-20151.html

Post number 3 is particularly juicy, I think.

*We poured salt water into the cavity to flush out the larvae. The cavity was so big that it connected with the back of her throat--she would bend over the sink, we would pour, and all the water with the little carcasses and infection would rush out her mouth. We had to paint her tongue with petroleum jelly to mask the taste of the rotten flesh. This poor woman was so sweet to us; never complained or yelled at us.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 2:58, Reply)

Oh my...
I once never showered for a week, but that's beside the point.

There are two science teachers in my school that cannot use soap. At all.

Use your imagination.
(RabidIceWeasel, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 2:39, Reply)

We should have hosed her...
In Y12 my Geography group went to France on a field trip.
With one particularly smelly girl. Y'know the kind, allergic to EVERYTHING even when proved clearly wrong, when it came to doing work of any kind she was always "ill" or "in pain" but when we did the fun things she was amazingly fine.

See, she didn't *like* showers, and so refused to shower for five of the seven day trip. And wore the same pink velour tracksuit for the duration. It hummed. I swear we could litteraly HEAR it stinking.

Eventually one of the female teachers cracked and forced her into a shower cubicle after breakfast and refused to let her out until she'd washed. YEY :)

Other than that, it was a great piss-about, and much fun was had by all.
(Fleximus Rex briefly gave up lurking on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 2:03, Reply)

Maggots
There was the time when a pigeon died up in the roof (I assume) and maggots started dropping from the extractor fan above the bath. Hundreds of the wriggly fuckers! And after the maggots, flies.

I went without a shower for over a week. But at least I strip-washed in the kitchen, you smelly fuckers!
( Beve The Spaniard broke off his horse's head, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 1:31, Reply)

Fingers In Food
I work at late-night store in a train station where shifts are long and most probably illegal.

Tensions and stress levels are always high because so many customers are so fucking self-important and usually in a rush to catch trains.

I recall the end of a particularly stressful day, where I'd managed to slice my fingers on plastic sandwich packaging, and had lots of filthy plasters all over my grubby hands which were black with filth from handling cash and products all day.

On this occasion a woman wanted to pay for a pasta salad, which is sold in a sealed plastic container, and she asked if she could have a plastic fork with it.

I helpfully told her that there was one in the box with the pasta - the forks are in a seperate compartment hidden under the sticky label. She rudely and abruptly replied "No there isn't a bloody fork in there don't you think I've already looked."

To correct her I calmly and politely poked the sticky label, revealing the fork in the seperate compartment (the food was still hygienically sealed in the box).

Then she blurted out "Er, I could have done without you sticking your fingers in my food you idiot", and I absolutely lost it.

I ripped open the pasta, delved my filthy hands into it and mixed up the pasta and lettuce leaves, said "I'll just mix it for you a little shall I", threw some down on the counter and walked off.

And I didn't even get into trouble. My manager is very understanding.
(chrisb, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 1:25, Reply)

With my mass of curly brown hair, I'm often mistaken for Gene Wilder.
When this happens I always receive a personal "hi, Gene".
( Malchick, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 1:07, Reply)

My crotch
Seems to smell a bit yeasty. Still, I can at least still piss without it burning, so it's all good.
(Give me the cheese you cocksucker No board sig in protest., Fri 23 Mar 2007, 0:56, Reply)

Smelly
Personal Hygiene, well my time in the army comes to mind of course.

When we were out in Hammelburg ( Infantry School ) undergoing training prior to my first deplyoment to Kosovo.
We had this one guy in my Platoon who simply had a problem with personal hygiene.
It takes a lot to stick, or better stink out ahead of 7 other guys in your room after a few days in the field but he managed to smell like a rotten carcass. The result of this was that the Platoon Leader ordered ab NCO to supervise the bloke who then went to shower with him. Sounds ghey but we were all glad.
That however is not the end of the story since when we were actually in Kosovo, the hygiene lacking comrade got sick after two months and was sent home by the medics immediately. As good comrades, it was up to us to pick up the stuff which was left in his locker, put it in a bag and ship it back home.

Yes, we found something.

We found 3 two litre bottles not filled with coke but with a mixture of wee and jizz. Besides being disgusted, we then knew that the container we used to live in didn´t stink by default, but because of this smelly fella.
Being good comrades, we thought he´d surely have a use for the three bottles so we put them
into the bag that was going back to G-Many as well ( after poking a hole with a needle in it ).

To this day I am still puzzled how he managed to fabricate 6 Litres of cum and pee without anyone of the other two "containermates" noticing on a container the size of a matchbox.
(Leitnhax, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 0:50, Reply)

Me
I've not washed in so long I'm getting smegma growing in my elbow pits.
I may not be able to lick my elbow, but the pit, oooh, it's a delight.
(Alexxx It wasn't me, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 0:44, Reply)

The Lab Steward
When I worked in the lab at BOC, our lab steward (whose job it was to deliver gas cylinders to us for testing) looked more like a tramp than someone in employment!

Lank greasy hair, clothes with bits of food dropped over them - I once joked that if he dipped his tie in hot water you would end up with a reconstituted three course meal! The stale sweaty smell was impossible to escape!

Harry's shoes were holed, but no matter he was also a football pools collector and therefore had lots of old coupons with which to stuff his shoes! Any old clothes Harry found in a skip would be proudly worn to work without washing them!

Harry (or the practical joke I played on him!) nearly got me the sack! Most of our lockers were in rows of threes but Harry's locker was a singleton. This gave my mate Keith the idea to turn his locker around so that the handle and keyhole faced the wall. I thought this an excellent wheeze, but suggested the refinement of also turning the locker upside down.

Giggling like schoolboys Keith & I finished our teabreak and went back to work.

Harry finished his day's work and went to get his coat from the locker. He flew into a rage when he discovered our handiwork! At the time we had some builders on site who were laying a new concrete yard. The builders had just finished laying 25 yards of concrete and were sat in the locker/tearoom having a well deserved break.

Harry asked the builders to help him right his locker & was promptly told to piss off by them as they were on their break! Poor Harry's brain then decided that the builders were the culprits and having nearly ruptured homself righting his locker, got his bike and wheeled and stamped through 25 yars of freshly lain concrete.....!
( Vambo, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 0:36, Reply)

then
there was the chap who came into the opticians I worked in. Named after a popular wet-weather footwear.
He'd had his second leg amputation quite recently, and had thoughtfully stashed his eye exam reminder letter under said leg.
When he held it out, the difficult thing was to find a bit of the letter to take hold of that wasn't stained with some type of 'fluid'.
Didn't need lunch that day, anyway.
( wynoh kills threads by his mere presence, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 0:07, Reply)

Dr Laverick
In my high school teaching days Dr Laverick was nicest, most considerate and also smelliest man you could ever not wish to meet. Unfortunately he was also employed as the head of the science department. Well he was Dr Laverick after all...

As has been mentioned a few times above, smelly teacher, south facing classroom, etc, etc. Well, if you think the students in his class had a bad time, have a thought for the faculty.

I was one of the new science teachers when he first was awarded his head of department title. I had to shadow his classes, all of them - sit in the corner and take notes. Bad.

I also had to sit in the staff room with him and go over my classroom observations, which is when I found out the source of the stench. When he was away from the students he'd kick his shoes off and put his feet on the staff room coffee table. Very bad.

Even worse though, his wife invited me round for dinner (new to the area, must be lonely, blah, blah). Lovely house, very clean, non-smelly. Mrs Laverick asked me how I was getting on, and also why Mr L. got bad student evaluations. As the house was really clean I thought that she would appreciate (or at least do something about)- a couple of glasses of vino by this time - her husband's lack of personal hygeine.

WRONG.

Turns out she was OCD which caused obvious strains in the relationship.

Also turns out that he was of the old school: bath on Sunday, clothes wash day monday, fish on friday etc.,

She point blank refused to have his socks in the house, 'cos they stank. He point blank refused to change his socks more than once a week 'cos that's how he grew up.

The smell? Feet! I hear you shout. No say I, the stench came from his jacket pocket.

Yes, he changed his socks after his bath on Sunday, but because his wife refused to have anything to do with them (and God forbid a man would work the washing machine), he'd alternate the only two pairs of socks he owned - sunday week 1, pair 1; sunday week 2 pair 2; sunday week 3 pair 1; sunday week 4 pair 2; ad infinitum.

But, because Mrs L wouldn't allow the dirty socks in the house, he kept his spare pair in his jacket pocket.

I lasted 6 months, yet when I left (got a better offer, no bad feelings), he threw me the best leaving party I could wish for. Bless Dr Laverick and his pongy paws.
( no longer a user, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 0:01, Reply)