Wednesday, April 25, 2007

The Face of a Smell

Forgive me readers for what to you may have seemed like a prolonged absence. I assure you, it was not intentional, but sometimes I forget that not everyone is immortal like myself. Your 'one month' is but a fraction of an eye-blink to me (You will know when I actually blink because when I do, chimes sound in the ears of the downtrodden in distant and ancient lands). So there's that.

You will no doubt be filled with mirth at the news that I completed my entire 4 month to do checklist. I did not expect to accomplish everything so quickly; once I figured out time travel, things got much easier.

In family news, father saved Africa. But more importantly, he became the new face of the manliest scent known to men who are men. Stetson fragrances announced him as the face of their fragrance:

"His allure extends off the football field and he is widely known for his distinctive masculinity and irresistible character," said Coty Chief Executive Officer Bernd Beetz, in a statement.

I could not have said it better myself. Except that they left out just how far his allure extends off the football field. Much like a ray of light or the hope of a child, father's allure extends beyond the football field into the outer reaches of space and time, where beginnings and ends are one in the same, and allure itself is but a description forged by man to capture a sign of god's presence on earth. I have inherited all of his qualities, though I believe my "irresistible character" is what you would now call a 'tractor beam.' Like they have in Star Wars. Yes, it's the bomb.

This may shock you, but I firmly believe Stetson should make the Umlaut the face of a fragrance too. The line would be called Used-Up Whore. A new line for the woman a Stetson man dumps after he's sobered up. It would have a nose that suggests scents of stained used car, medical waste, notes of deceased wet dog, and a finish of spoiled citrus and crusty bread.
The tag line: There's No Hiding It, You're a Used-Up Whore.

And before I forget, I should apologize to the Umlaut for my 32 day internet-absence. It must have felt like 224 days to her. Partly because she can't count, but also because she is a dog.

Growth Note: I can count to Pi on one hand.

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