I really mean that.

But it's not as bad as it sounds.

---

Last Thursday night, I was wiring some speakers up in the bathroom and I came across some smelly, girly, bath salts. Now's the part where I'd normally say that they were obviously left there by the (ex)Girl, or that I only bought them for her and they're not really mine, or they're for my hockey injuries, or something tough like that.

This, of course, is all true.

The smelly, girly, bubble bath, however... is a different story.

*Begin Side Note*

Guys, ever wandered through the Chicks Underwear Section at a department store?

Sure you have.

Ever seen something that caught your eye because of it's sparkles/glitter/shiny parts?

Sure.

Ever grabbed it, crawled into the clothing rack and tried it on, quicklike, so that you don't get caught?

C'mon, show of hands... YOU, in the back... You've done it, I've seen you do it!

*End Side Note*

So, I figure since I live alone now, and I've finally got the shutters on the front-facing windows fixed, I can do whatever I want in my own home.

30 minutes later, I'm neck-deep in a Lavendar-scented bubble bath, I'm surrounded by some candles, I've got a glass of Chardonnay (the pricey stuff too, $7 a bottle), and Diana Krall's singing from my speakers about losing love and something in Spanish about how she wants me to kiss her. I was fully chicked-out.

When Diana got to the sad parts, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek, I self-consciously checked the bathroom window just to make sure no one could see inside.

If there was ever a moment when the S.M.A.T* team would come crashing through the window to force me out of the tub, into a pink-and-purple tutu, and march me down the street to the biker bar on Broadway, this was it.

*Sissy Mary Attack Team, composed of the roughest, toughest, meanest SissyMary's around, and renders swift, harsh, punishment on those that aren't really SissyMarys, but act like them. Yes, I am well aware that S.M.A.T. team is really saying "...Team team" but I checked on this with the Department of Redundancy Department, and it's cool.

I went to bed alone and drunk, but I smelled awesome, so when morning came in and ran it's fingernails on the inside of my eyelids, I decided not to shower.

(Surely, you see what's coming)

---

Weekend BreakDown, by Odor

Friday Night, I went out for a beer with a buddy. Only two, in fact, though I managed to spill someone else's on myself. Got home smelling like smoke and beer, knew I had to shower first thing Saturday morning.

Woke up Saturday morning, and realized I was horribly late for my nephew's hockey game at 11, in Greeley (an hour away if the Traffic Gods smile).

I brewed some coffee and poured it into the travel mug, realizing belatedly that I was out of that yummy-dairy-creamer stuff as well as milk. Went to sprinkle some sugar in it, straight from the bag, causing a Sugarlanche into my goddam coffee. Too late to brew more or even stop for some, I begin my drive North by taking a drink of my Blackened-Sugar-Sludge way too soon, and splashing a good amount of it down my left arm.

I arrive at his hockey game smelling like a fresh bag of Airport Lounge trash, and cheer him on while he grins at Uncle Judd and falls down leaving the player's bench.

My youngest nephew is 3, and a squirmer, and after his mommy got fed up with his antics, she passed him to me. I love my nephews and we have a fucking awesome time together. Apparently though, there is such thing as too good of a time during the potty-training years.

*Tickle tickle*

*Squealing Laughter*

"Hmmm, why is my leg wet? Why is his crotch wet? What's that sme... Ahhhhhhh shit..."

Hugging the li'l hockey player nephew after the game, he said "Ew, Uncle Judd, you stink."

"Yeah, buddy, I know. Shaddap."

I drove back to Denver with the windows down, because the truck smelled like Juan Valdez's donkey was next to me, smoking a cigar, and urinating on the seat.

---

Back in Denver, NeighborWife came over and I fixed one of NeighborHubby's tools for her. Then, she gave me a hug.

"Have you been cleaning with Ammonia?"

"No, why? OH, I got pissed on earlier, forgot to change..."

I worked outside all day, getting nice and sweaty. I figured that if I DEFINITELY had to shower, I would get as dirty as I wanted and I did.

I had allotted just enough time between finishing chores, showering and getting up to G0lden for beers with CoWorkerBuddy and The Captain of G0lden, and then possibly a jaunt to Aurora for the Gypsy's Pajama Party, when my phone rang.

It's the Brother.

The Brother that I haven't talked to in 6 weeks. He wants to talk about everything that's been going down.

Fuck.

I plug in my hands-free, throw on some 'clean' clothes and a half-gallon of AfterShave, because I can't just hang up on my own flesh and blood simply because I smell foul.

I arrive in G0lden an hour late, and now smell like a FratBoy that just got gang r@ped by drunken bikers.

A night of drinking and debauchery with the Captain ensues, and much fun is had by all. I wake up on CoWorkerBuddy's couch, after a pleasant 2 hours of sleep, to CoWorkerBuddy's Yellow Lab, repeatedly licking the side of my head. CoWorkerBuddy and RoommateGirl, both of whom went home fairly early, are fresh as daisies, and are up making a bunch of goddam noise, so I leave.

I got home smelling like someone wiped beer off their dog's ass with a Vanilla-scented ashtray.

My head pounding, I turned on the NFL pre-game show, flopped down on the couch, and begged Asshead the dog to take my keys and go get me some Burger King. She refused, because she's a bitch, but she did snuggle while I was passed out.

I woke up intermittently during the Broncos game, played on the computer, and vowed not to move my body until at least nightfall, when I would most assuredly shower.

A friend calls, waking me up. She reminds me that I told her I'd play goalie for her that evening.

Fuck.

It's an All-Girl team, but they play in a men's league, so I didn't have to hide my penis or anything when I got there. My overwhelming excitement at a lockerroom full of half-naked chicks was almost instantly crushed when I asked, "Don't they have showers at this rink?" and was told, "Not yet. What's that smell? Is that your equipment, or you?"

Neither of these things were good to hear.

We mustered a rousing 3rd period comeback to win the game though, and I got to undress next to super-hot-former-model-turned-motorcycle-cop who never remembers me even though I used to ask her out weekly a few years ago.

I dressed and walked out to the truck, now smelling like someone set fire to a drunk and sweaty Hobo's asshair.

My phone rings again. It's the Mom asking if I remembered that I promised to come over for dinner. Despite my protests that I desperately needed to shower, I am ordered to come over right away.

Fuck.

But, it is The Mom, and she'll love me no matter how bad I smell right?

I arrive and LittleBrother, in his Spidey outfit, gives me a hug and says, "Ohhh MAN, you smell bad!"

This statement causes an eruption of laughter from the FUCKING DINNER PARTY in the next room.

The Mom forgot to tell me that she'd "invited some friends over." Dinner was served with 3 very nice, funny, sweet, lesbi@n couples on one end of the table, and Spidey & Stinky on the other. Bless li'l Spidey's heart, as he was the only one that would sit next to me at first.

---

When I finally climbed into the shower, I remember thinking that there is a certain freedom in being a complete and total slob, and unlike last time that I pushed the limits of the olfactory senses of others, this time was unintentional.

The soap hissed loudly when I pressed it against my skin, and I thought of the heartbreak and depression that I've been going through, and that sometimes life really fucking stinks.

But then I thought, it's my life to live how I want, and sometimes it can stink and still be pretty good.