Back Soon

By Tom

Well, I suppose it's pretty obvious that I've been on a break (or perhaps you didn't notice. Don't crush me by telling me so.) There have been several things going on in my life, or perhaps it's more to the point to type not going on. However, it's all come to a head. I am starting a new job and moving just downstreet. So I will be back to a regular schedule of posting it's to be hoped soon, on here and the Posse.

Since I am moving I am clearing out 20 years of random crap. One of those pieces of random crap that fell into the K-Hole that was my apartment was a decent sized decant of Thierry Mugler's "Human Existence" which I wrote about almost 7 years ago.

At the time I wrote "This is the sour sweat of desperation and failure. Perhaps even insanity. This is the smell of the crazy homeless person you cross the street to avoid." I knew after sniffing it that I wrapped the bottle in enough tape to keep it from opening during the Big One.  If you've seen the ending to I Married a Witch, you get the idea. I also knew that the bottle hadn't been breached since I could still live in the place. Eventually I told myself that I had thrown it out, even though I am one of those diligent people who waits for the hazardous recycling event on Foothill Rd to dispose of those funky new light bulbs and old cans of paint thinner.

I had thought that if I really, truly hated someone I would pour it onto the base of their windshield and let their HVAC system get soaked with it. But I don't hate anyone that much. That, and I didn't have it in hand the other day when I saw that purple Lamborghini parked in a handicapped spot sans placard.

So of course, moving the sofa I found where it had fallen. Still taped shut, rather dusty.

The irony is that I will be working in a place where scents are verboten. It's kind of funny that I am in possession of a pretty decent amount of what must be considered the Nuclear Winter of perfumes, yet not even a spritz or Eau de eau is allowed. My new employers are so nice and welcoming that I can cope with this embargo without thinking "I'll just give a little spritz"- I'll just save it for bedtime.

However, Purple Lambo, it would behoove you to park more politely. A ticket goes away. A cowl full of this stuff never does.

My decant was from Marina, as was the image.