Pheromones: they make the other person look good because they smell good. Or so says science. Maybe. Whatever. I didn’t exactly look it up. That’s, like, research. Pah. I don’t need no stinkin’ (hahahaha. Get it? Did you get it? I crack me up) research. Clearly this word was derived from the Ancient Egyptians. Go on…say it.. Pheromones. Pharaoh Moans. It’s all about the head honcho getting laid all the time and the peons were jealous (and who wouldn’t be with the head honcho getting lots of, uhm, head so to speak) so they killed off the Pharaohs then wore their clothing. Then the “essence” of the Pharaoh rubbed off on the peons and soon everyone was getting horizontal. “Hey baby you smell good.” “Sugar, it’s the Pharaohs.” Sweeeet. I wouldn’t’ mind going to see Egypt. If for no other reason then to ask around about why their pyramids didn’t make the 8 Wonders of the Worlds list. Maybe it was all that sand getting into cracks. Then again the beach has sand and also didn’t make the Wonders list. The beach has surfers. And surfers are just sublimely yummy as they’re all tanned and buff and half naked and wet. Not to mention that they smell like the ocean and I do so love the smell of the ocean even though I live far far far far far far far far away from any large body of water.
See how I got back to smelling? Will you pay attention? Oh you want proof about the efficiency of pheromones. Gotcha.
So apparently pheromones attract the opposite sex or fish. How? I don’t know. That’s science. I don’t do science. Ask somebody sciency. Do I write science fiction? No. I write about sex. Well…I did. Lately I’m not. But this isn’t about my lack of sex…err…writing. This is about sex and sexy smells and so on so forth. I saw on t.v. (some sex show on The Learning Channel…huzzah!) that women are more attracted to sweaty men than unsweaty men. Err…Uh-huh. That’s because they’re oooooooooozing pheromones. I think they’re just ooooooozing sweat and need a shower. I don’t retain much information. I could look it up but…hello? Research. I mean I’ve never seen a sweaty guy, tackled him then rubbed my face in his stinky arm pit then yell out “Do me baby!” Wait…would that work? I could be wrong. This could require research. Blast.
So these pheromones are the babe magnets and thanks to science
I you can buy pheromones. Sex in a bottle. Sweet. I was dragged (kicking and screaming) to a passion party where one of the products was (sec…let me pull my container out of my purse. What? You don’t carry around your pheromones? Why the hell not?!?) “Pure Instinct®”. “Pure® Instinct” according to the website*: Inspires desire and attracts the opposite sex! This unisex scent is a powerful attractant, communicating your sexual readiness and heightening your partner’s desires. Apparently it adapts to your body chemistry so everyone has a unique scent: I learned I smelled like strawberries and mangoes. There’s nothing I love more than strawberries and mangoes and less it’s strawberries AND mangoes plus it attracts the opposite sex? How could I, a single gal, pass up? I didn’t. I plunked down my $15 something and waited and waited and waited for my sex in a bottle. It arrived. Then I waited some more for my friend to remember to deliver it to me. Just in time for us gals to go out drinking Saturday night.
* link provided in case, y’know, you want some pheromones or to host a passion party. (As an aside: at my friend’s passion party (that I missed because I was a good girl babysitting her nephew) when they put on the “Pure® Instinct”, her dog was making eyes at one of the girls, his head in her lap…proof is in the pudding. Works on dogs. Watch out Doug!)
So us gaggle of females slathered up and I sat back (with the only other single gal) to wait for the guys to drop at my feet. They didn’t. This was vexing. Maybe, we decided, we needed to waft our pheromones around the bar. So…we raised our wrists and made circles in the air in an attempt to beckon all this sex to us. None came. The only ones who snagged onto my pheromones were a trio of drunk teenagers at the c-train station (it was an early night (home by 11 pm…what the fuck? I was pheromoning man!) and I decided to use my transit pass instead of paying for a cab. Good decision…I could waft my pheromones around the crowded c-train thanks to the Stampede!) who were spraying each other with Off. Perhaps they should’ve used pheromones? One guy said “You sprayed me.” The other kid said: “No I didn’t.” “I smell strawberries.” (Wait…did I just refer to a teenager as a kid? Shit.)
Perhaps my pheromony goodness didn’t work because every single gal I was out with Saturday night slathered themselves in the stuff. (It’s not sad that when I wear this stuff I turn myself on is it? Nah. Just proves it’s efficient.) How could any guy find my pheromony goodness when there was so much bloody competition? Damn those married chicks screwed me over! I shall have to try this again. And if nothing else I’ll smell like strawberries AND mangoes. Not like fish…or Zoidberg. Unless that will work for a guy then Zoidberg me up!
little blue pill out (doesn’t that sound like a new prescription is needed? oh yeah…fo’ sho’)
Everything smells funny on Humor-blogs.com.
12 Comments so far
Leave a comment