dirty thoughts
I didn't always wash every day until a few years ago, I figured as long as I didn't smell it was ok. Now I try to, I think it's psychologically important to be under water every day. Maybe the Christians and the Muslims have the right of it with the whole baptism / wudu / ablutions thing. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how much I completely fail to achieve my appointed tasks, at least I’m clean every day. Except today, when I snoffed my alarm by accident, (hit stop instead of snooze) and woke up too late to get in the shower. I feel rough as, and not just because I was up too late playing with photoshop for that damn comp.

Men don’t seem to realise that women have a very rarified sense of smell and we are not turned on by staleness. I can barely breathe when I’m with one of my mates, and have been known to ask “Did something die and rot in here…? Oh no, it’s just Dan” (aka Stinky Dan, Fat Dan, Ginger Dan, or on occasions, Big Fat Stinky Ginger Dan). He smells. Bad. I’m sure all of Leeds must feel nauseous. Dan, if you are reading this, I love you, but sort it out mate. You reek. You too, Tommy Smooth. Chicks might dig scars, but they don’t go for skank. Wash your clothes as well as your person. Especially if you want someone to put that in her mouth.
Hear me now.

One of my mates at uni was a total stinkfiend. We once had to gang up on him because he smelled so bad. Someone ran a bath and then we took a leg / arm each and threw him in., fully-clothed. He just sat there sulking in his wet hippy rags – I had to wade in and wash him in the end. Skinny monkey boy had sores in nasty places.
He'd sod off to India every winter and live in ditches getting wasted with skanky hippies. One time he came back with the usual amount of gear up his arse, and having performed his act of expulsion & reclamation, settled down to veg on the sofa in front of the TV. It was only several hours later after a procession of people had been round to say hello again that he announced “Oh yeah, I think I might have head lice, maybe fleas too, I’m not sure, there is definitely something living on me”. Bastard. I shaved his head... as I cut each dread off I could hear the tiny rain of parasites falling onto the kitchen floor. Still makes my skin crawl to think about it.
(L_J be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 11:31, Reply)