HOWEVER.
Tonight, I am her to tell the world; WHAT NOT TO WEAR.
This morning I absolutely could not find my deodorant. So, I scrambled about, in a hurry for a quick alternative...
A while back, Andrew's best friend Vince stood on his worrysome pulpit and preached like that brotha' from anotha' motha' on a Sunday morning in a Souther Baptist Church. Vince was there to spread the gospel: Regular deodorant submits cancer through your armpit and into your brain, via the iluminum ingredient you can find in most deodorants. But no need to panic! He had found the light, and he found it at Trader Joes.
"Trader Joe's Unscented deodorant (with cotton) paraben and aluminum free".
If you tell Andrew that Rubbing Alcohol is the most effective way to lubricate your dry, irritated, red eyes, he'd probably do it; One drop in each eye. Of course Vince's sunday school lesson on how important it is to convert to the aluminum-free-pit-stick, lead us through the valley and the shadow of death and over to the selective (but obivously eco-friendly) toiletry section of Trader Joes. I didn't pay much attention to these silly shananigans, I admittedly welcomed the advice into one ear and Shooed it out of the other like it was a dirty old fly. It was mainly a cheap form of entertainment, I was able to ring out a few good laughs like It was a used up washcloth. These two get together and get worked up about any damn thing such as, Well...deodorant.
Suddenly it's June 24th 2008, and now, this underarm armor has got me taking notes.
Today I scurried home after a long day and quickly disrobed my clothing, seeking a more suitable wardrobe for something with more of a breezeway, something of comfort. I grasp the bottom of my T-shirt and quickly deploy it from my body. As my shirt teams up with my arms,together, they create quite the potent gust of wind.
"Oh My!"
I furrow my brow and tuck my tail between my legs.
That can't be me!
No way.
Absolutely not.
I bow my head, and take to the worldly advice of Mr. Toucan Sam, I follow my nose.
Definately me.
It's as if I've unknowingly smuggled an onion patch under my arms, and I unfortunately failed to notice that somone had slaughtered those puppies to smithereens!!
Never have I ever produced such a stench. And when I do go into sweat production, out comes a scent more comparable to pine trees. Yeah you heard me, pine trees. It's been confirmed on numerous occasions by several people I hold dear to my heart (and armpit).
This odor wasn't foreign to my nostrils ( My poor nostrils, feeling like they'd just been assulted). I have been given many opportunities to get a good whiff of this aroma: In dance class, the locker room after gym class, and sitting in seventh grade Math Class next to the kid who was still wearing sweat pants. I always wondered when my day would come. The day when I could formulate my own natural defense mechanism, if I were to be mugged by a man on a street, all I'd have to do is get him in a quick headlock and he'd be out like a light.
I'm sorry Vince, for the inability to be vacant to this product, but I feel even more remorse for your wife, may she never snuggle up into those armpits of yours.
In the mean time, it's pine trees or bust!
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