Smelly bitch

Today is the Office’s annual Thanksgiving Day potluck. I made sweet potatoes. By “made,” I mean I went to Whole Foods and purchased sweet potatoes. It was hella expensive -- $6.99 a pound. I bought 3 pounds worth. That should suffice, hopefully.

I also bought a bottle of wine. It is the same wine that I ‘fell in love with’ at a restaurant I took my friend to for her birthday. It is soooo fucking delicious. It's a semi-sweet Italian variety, the name and the grape being Pitule Moscato d’Asti. If you like semi-sweet wines, this is a great choice. My parents liked the bottle I took to their house last week so much, that they asked me to buy them three bottles. I guess I know what I will be drinking on Thanksgiving Day. Well, that and egg nog. Mmmmm egg nog.

After picking up the sweet ‘taters (haha) and the wine, I stepped in line that seemed the shortest. Then it hit me. The most foul, toxic, nose-turning, body odor I have smelled in a very, very long while. This was not your garden variety B.O., but B.B.O., aka beyond body odor.

It was the cashier.

For those of you who have not visited Whole Foods or Wild Oats or any of the other organic, specialty stores, they tend to attract as employees the more hippy-er(?) population. Not sure why. But anyway, it’s true.

The cashier was a bit overweight, had nappy hair for a white chick, and, get this, hairy underarms. When I saw the pits, I nearly threw up. By this time, my eyes were watering, not from laughter, but from the pollutants in the air. Seriously, it was that bad.

You know, I’m all for the freedom of self-expression, but when such expression makes me want to vomit on my own face, I draw the line.

Anyway, it’s 9:30 a.m. At 11:30 a.m., I will be stuffing my face with food. Don’t be jealous of me. Or of my natural, pleasant musk.

Labels: family, gross