Won’t you take me to Funky Town?

My day started off with the funky towel.  You know the one.  It’s the one you pull out of your linen closet and as you start to dry off from your shower, you realize that it was a SOURED towel and now your freshly scrubbed, squeaky clean, Dove-smellin’ self reeks.

Of funky soured towel.

And I was going to the massage therapist today and I did not want to reek.  So I squirted on massive amounts of Beautiful to mask the stench, wondering if that would weird out my therapist because, really, who wears perfume to the massage therapist?  And then I didn’t want her to see my dry winter legs, so I reached for the lotion only to find out that I had run out of the unscented kind and only had the boldly obnoxious Midnight Pomegranate that did nothing to enhance my personal bouquet.  Of L’Air du Pee-uwww.

Then I decided that I wouldn’t wear makeup because sometimes they do that little massage-y thing on your face that smears your makeup off, so I went au-naturel except for that I was so pale that I decided maybe a little lipliner would work.  Only the lipliner looked a little dry and cakey, but instead of topping it with a little lip gloss (which might be sticky), I used chapstick.  And was it unscented chapstick?  Oh no, dear reader.  It was kiwi-lime.  In all its tropical glory.

Arriving in a heady cloud of toxic fumes at the salon, I am immediately greeted by the sight of someone I know sitting in the reception area.  I never run into acquaintances in town unless I look (and smell) my absolute worst.  And he’s chatty, so we chat.  At close distance.  That therapist could NOT get there fast enough.

I was so discombobulated by my friend that I couldn’t quite process what the therapist was saying to me as I walked in the door.  I found out about 15 minutes in that I had acquiesced to the gluteus part of the rubdown.  I then spent the next 45 minutes trying not to laugh and basically undoing all the relaxation that I went in there for.

Then I went to the craft shop.  Which has nothing to do with anything else.

The Stinking End.

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7 responses to “Won’t you take me to Funky Town?

  1. Soured towels are my specialty. I think I might possibly hold the record for rewashing one single load of laundry…..7 times.

    I’m sure you smelled mah-va-lus today.

  2. I’m so glad you are blogging! You brighten my day every time!

  3. I love it! Gluteal rub-down? That’s stinkin funny. 🙂

  4. Oh my goodness! I despise the funky soured towel and it makes me smell. I feel like, why did I bother taking a shower?

    too funny.

  5. I bet you were a sight to sniff this morning. I bet you’re feeling so relaxed now that you don’t even care though do ya?

  6. Oh I hate that when my towels smell funky. I am seriously considering buying new ones for that very reason.

  7. In Arizona (that where we just moved from) we never get that funky towel smell. It’s so dry everything evaporates immediately…we had lived here before so I had forgotten about the whole weird smelling towel thing.

    The thing i worry the most about when getting a massage is drooling. I;m a big time drooler. Its very attractive, as you might have guessed.

    not sure how to end this comment after that info.

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