To wear stinky perfume is a wonderful way to annoy a whole restaurant full of people. It’s like sniffing a foul cloud, and aside from having an asthma attack, there is absolutely nothing anyone can do about this.
So a foul wind blows strait up my nose. Oh my god pew. Holy crap it’s you! Does the dime store have more of the scent you’ve used to put me on the floor? I can’t breath. I can’t see. Please open the windows. Fling open the door. You smell like poo. You smell like shit. If that oder was on the ground I wouldn’t step in it. I don’t know what you were thinking when you put that on. You need to know it is way to strong. I would much prefer, a smell less course. Like that of strong urine or a rotting corpse. Make it go away. Make it stop. Make me a mask from two month old dirty moldy socks.
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on October 16th, 2007 at 1:11 pm
When I first started at the bar there was a gal who came in a couple times doused in this horrible cotton-candy smelling perfume. It overwhelmed the place (including the kitchen where I was working then) and gave me a headache.