Smell you later

Something about me is that I have some sort of hypersensitivity to smells. This can be an extremely good thing. Like when my brother is making goat cheese mushroom risotto, for example. My taste buds can already sense the amazingness that is soon to occur. Or when the soap in my office bathroom smells like my favorite candy ... causing me to crave, then go out and buy said candy later that night. (Sour Punch Straws. The bomb.) But more often than not, it's an awful thing.

Like the other day, I walked into my apartment lobby during my lunch hour and it smelled like surplus-sized jugs of Chloroseptic were dumped on the floor and carpet and a wet dog had rolled in it. I couldn't hide the look of disgust on my face.

In other apartment-related smells, a note to the girl who likes to drench herself in perfume in the morning, and therefore leaving the elevator and lobby as some sort of flammable hazard ... I don't care if it's cheap Celine Dion perfume from Walgreens or Eau De Pricey Toilette made from the secretions of a rare marsupial ... don't slather it on. I have my own scent, thanks, and I don't need to smell like yours just by walking through the lobby.

Then there's the time I walked into the Clydesdale stables at the Anheiser-Busch Brewery tour and gagged for a minute, sure I was going to vomit in front of 50+ people. That wouldn't have been embarrassing at all.

I even have a rule set forth in my car and any car I ride in on a regular basis ... no farting while driving. I don't care if you roll the window down, that's just cruel.

Once, when I was at Mr. Goodcents enjoying a delicious deli sub-style sandwich, some pimple-faced employee decided it would be a good idea to mop the floors with bleach infested water. Right next to the table I was sitting at. Now my turkey sandwich with provolone cheese tasted like mop water and I was immediately done eating. (I never bow out early when it comes to meals.) I refuse to return to that establishment to this day.

But here's the worst smell-induced reaction. Located within miles of my office is some sort of tannery factory, or so I'm told. Someone told me that on certain days, they're boiling or tanning the hides of animals for whatever purpose. Whatever the factory actually is, the resulting stench is revolting. On these smelly days, I have to run to and from my car in order to avoid dry heaving. On one fateful day, however, I thought I could handle it. Walked at a normal pace. But soon, I started gagging. Gagging turned into dry heaving. Dry heaving turned into actual vomiting. Yes, I vomited outside of my office building due to a smell in the air. I went upstairs to get a cup of water to wash away the evidence but the damage was done. I was officially dubbed "the girl the threw up because of the elusive nasty smell." And it happened again. It was raining and stinky. I stopped in the middle of the road on the way to the parking lot and puked a little and walked on. Um ... sick.

So yeah, there's all of that. Just don't fart in my car and we'll be friends.