Posts Tagged ‘smells’

Blind Fury

September 18, 2008

Yeah. YEAH. You want to know why?

I brought, like, four pairs of pants with me to college. I’ve been wearing my good pair of jeans for the last, I don’t know, three weeks?

(SHUT UP, IT’S NOT GROSS. THEY’RE PANTS.)

So, today, I decided it would be a good idea to wear my other pair of jeans. I put them on. La-dee-da, brush hair, brush teeth…hmm. Something seems a little off. What could it be?

OH, OF COURSE.

MY PANTS SMELLED LIKE MOTHERFUCKING FEET.

THE SAME NASTY, ROTTEN, DISGUSTING FEET SMELL THAT I BATTLED WITH ALL SUMMER LONG.

IT FOLLOWED ME TO FUCKING OHIO.

I AM SO MAD I COULD BARF. AND EVEN THAT WOULD SMELL BETTER THAN FUCKING DEAD PEOPLE MYSTERY LAUNDRY FEET.

THEY WERE FRESH OUT OF THE DRAWER, TOO. I HAVEN’T WORN THEM OR WASHED THEM SINCE I’VE GOTTEN HERE.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Advertisements

Nothing, really.

September 13, 2008

This entry has no specific purpose, except to provide yet another distraction to prevent me from starting my homework.

It’s gloomy and nasty and icky and rainy and gross today. It makes me want to do nothing, except maybe sleep more. And eat. I did go to the gym this morning, though. I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD OF AN ACCOMPLISHMENT.

So, last night was full of band merriment. Some of the marching band seniors have a small village house, so we headed over there for some quality band bonding. We played some card game that was like those nerdy Pokemon card games I always played, except it was with cowboys and guns and shooting and stuff. I committed assisted suicide after about 30 minutes so that I wouldn’t have to pay attention, because it was boring.

Then, some kid did magic tricks. He seemed to be very intensely proud of the whole magic thing (card tricks are cool, not gonna lie). Another guy there expressed skepticism, and it was a very bad idea. VERY BAD. Heated arguments and various magical demonstrations ensued. Never has bonding or magic been so very awkward, tense, uncomfortable, and HILARIOUS. I heart marching band so much.

Two days ago, Emily G. and I made a cake for her birthday.

A double-layered cake, frosted with two jars of Nutella and sprinkled with crumbled up Pirouette wafer cookies (the tube kind filled with chocolate).

IT CHANGED MY LIFE FOR THE BETTER.

Nutella cake

Nutella cake

It was, by far, the most delicious 10,000-calorie thing I have ever consumed.

Just looking at it might give me diabetes.

…SOOO WORTH IT.

Needless to say, we’re both popular now. My life’s dream has finally been realized and I can now die happy.

(JUST KIDDING, that was only middle school. My REAL life’s dream is living in a bounce-house house. AND IT WILL HAPPEN.)

It’s Saturday afternoon, so naturally, I’m sitting on the computer, doing nothing. The rain is limiting.

I’m so jealous of those village-housers. I want to snuggle up in a blanket, in a comfy chair, in my tiny college-sponsored house, with a couple of my friends, and play board games on nice-looking carpet that won’t give you tetanus from skin contact with it. I’d have to import these friends from other states, though, and shipping is expensive, so I guess I should wait.

I’m at point A in life right now. I assume most people have a point B, perhaps graduate school, a career, something like that.

My point B is death. I should really look in to changing that.

p.s. Something is making our hall smell horrible. HORRIBLE. LIKE ROTTING ANIMAL. I think it’s coming from the trash can, but since last night was Friday night, I’m really too scared to look.

WHAT THE FUCK.

September 5, 2008

GOD DAMN.

Here’s the story. So, I thought Hector the robocactus was stinking up my room. So I tried everything in my power to de-stink him. Then, yesterday, I got home from class and our room STILL smelled. So, heartbroken, I put Hector in the hallway with a sign that said “I need a home!”, and turned my back on him.

Hector in the Hallway

Hector in the Hallway

BUT THE ROOM WAS STILL STINKY.

So, I set out to find the true source of the stinkiness. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled around, sniffing our carpet.

And then I found the stinky spot. This large, slightly discolored spot by my closet. Ew. I got some dishwasing soap and a sponge, and scrubbed away.

Then, I realized: Wait. This is where my shower caddy has been sitting.

WAIT. THIS IS MOLD.

So, I stopped scrubbing and googled “remove carpet mold”.

And, of course, the first thing that I read is:

“WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT TOUCH MOLD WITH YOUR BARE HANDS OR INHALE.”

Of course, I read that after spending an hour scrubbing the floor with my bare hands and sniffing the carpet WITH MY FACE, LIKE, AN INCH AWAY FROM THE MOLD SPOT.

FUUUUUCK.

Supposedly, someone is coming to clean it today, because my technique did not work as effectively as it should have. But I have to pay now. Shit.

I’ve been talking to other girls in my hall, and they all leave their shower shit on the ground too. Mine seems to be the only one that has grown mold. Either I’m icky, or smells just feel drawn to me. Maybe both.

According to Google:

SYMPTOMS OF MOLD INHALATION

1. Coughing

2. Irritation

3. …

4. Convulsions

5. Death

I haven’t been experiencing death or convulsions, but I have a cough. AND I AM VERY IRRITATED. GRR.

When I start coughing up mushrooms, I’ll start worrying. Now, no.

The silver lining?

HECTOR GETS TO STAY. WOOHOO!

Alright.

September 4, 2008

College has been fun, but I’ll take a diploma now.

I’m already sick of class and it’s the second day. It’s not boring or anything, I just really hate learning.

P.S. Just kidding. My classes are actually kind of fantastic, especially Russian. My professors seem like cool people. I just have a really, REALLY annoying alarm clock that basically ensures that I start every day pissed off.

P.P.S. MARCHING BAND.

Okay, that’s all.

SIDE NOTE.

I made a large cardboard robocactus two days ago. His name is Hector. And now, our entire room smells like rabbit shit. The sour, gross kind. (Believe me, I am a connoisseur of animal poop. Observing it was my job, and it was never one to be taken lightly.)

SINCE WHEN DOES CARDBOARD DO THAT? EVEN FEBREEZE WILL NOT REMOVE THE ODOR. DAMN.

Hector is jammed in my window, proudly displayed to the North Quad, to air him out a little bit. If the smell doesn’t dissipate, I’m afraid he’ll have to be done away with. That would make me so sad; he’s like my child. If I have to get rid of him, I’ll never create with cardboard again; I don’t think my fragile heart could take another beating like that.

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY.

IS THE SMELL OF ANIMAL SHIT REALLY GOING TO FOLLOW ME AROUND FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?

No one will ever marry me. Except maybe someone nasally-impaired. Like that man who was mauled by a bear and lost half of his face! I should call him.

Mystery: Unsolved

August 24, 2008

I’m sure you’ll be as ecstatic as I was to discover that the redone laundry does not stink of mystery feet. It smells rather delicious now, actually.

So instead of eating the box of detergent to sublimate my anger, I ate half of a can of Nutella to celebrate.

I’ll never take clean clothes for granted ever, ever again.

Now, if only I knew why everything smelled of feet in the first place. I should call CSI. Except that they’d be all:

“Miss, we found traces of blood, pus, and semen on your walls. Do you remember finding disembodied feet in your drawers?”

Because that’s what happens on every episode of CSI that I’ve ever seen.

As if I needed to smell any worse…

August 24, 2008

For the last two months, I’ve been rooting through all my clothes and cleaning out my drawers.

And I have noticed that a lot of my clothes smell really strongly of feet. But they aren’t socks. They’re sweaters, pants, t-shirts, and shit like that. NO SOCKS.

The feet-clothes are never concentrated in one drawer. They’re everywhere. Scattered all over my room.

Swear to god, it’s been happening since June. AND IT’S DRIVING ME CRAZY, YOU GUYS.

Remember that LAMA concert I was telling you about? When I pulled my fancy black dress out of my drawer…FEET. IT SMELLED OF DISGUSTING FEET. I had to Febreeze it and roll around on my front lawn to get the smell out. GROSS. The girls agreed with me, it smelled like nasty feet. It’s not just in my head.

So, last night, I pull a nice, clean load of laundry out of the dryer. As I’m carrying it to my room, I notice that something seems unpleasant. I smell the laundry.

THE SMELL OF FEET. FUCKING FEET. ALL OVER EVERYTHING. SOUR, NASTY, SWEATY, SPORTY FEET. DSFDFSDSSDFSFD.

I’M USING CAPS LOCK NOW BECAUSE I’M REALLY, REALLY PISSED OFF. I HATE SMELLING LIKE A DEAD PERSON’S FOOT.

MY SOCKS DIDN’T EVEN SMELL LIKE FEET BEFORE I WASHED THEM. NOW THEY DO. WHAT THE FUCK, YOU GUYS. THERE WAS NO FEETY SMELL IN THAT LAUNDRY. MY UNWASHED LAUNDRY SMELLED LIKE ARMPIT. NOT FEET. THE DETERGENT SMELLS GOOD. THE WASHER SMELLS WATERY, BUT GOOD. THE DRYER SMELLS LIKE RUINED ELECTRONICS THAT I’VE FRIED IN MY PANT POCKETS OVER THE YEARS…JUST KIDDING IT SMELLS GOOD.

I’M REDOING THIS LOAD OF LAUNDRY NOW AND IF IT COMES OUT SMELLING LIKE FEET, I’M GOING TO EAT THE ENTIRE BOX OF DETERGENT AND THEN SAW OFF MY ARMS.

On top of this, there’s some horde of people playing African drums really loudly behind my house. And cheering at inappropriate times. This is unacceptable. Especially at 11:30 a.m., which might as well be 6 a.m. for me, because I’m always tired regardless of the hour.

Fuck.

The laundry is done.

And I’m scared.