My Dress Smells Like a Deep Fat Fryer Full of Vintage Grease

And it's still got the tags on it! Bought the cute turquoise cotton frock today at my favorite store on Nassau Street. When I pulled it out of the bag tonight and tried it on (I look CUTE!) I was hit in the face with the stench. Clearly the store must abut an exhaust fan from the restaurant next door and everything in the place is contaminated with the grease. It briefly occurred to me to take the dress back for a discount (hello, new economy, desperate measures) because it reeks but how would I prove it to the woman working there when she must smell exactly like the dress? "What are you talking about? I don't smell anything." 

There's a deli up the block that I only go to in extreme emergencies because it smells identically foully. In the 15 seconds it takes to purchase a Lotto ticket (Mega Millions is upwards of 200 million right now--one example of an emergency) you walk out of there stinkin' like a 14-year old mozzarella stick the rest of the goddamned day. Disgusting.

The point of this story: You can look cute in a new turquoise cotton frock even if it smells gross. Oh, and smells bother me. So if you're reading this, guy from the mailroom, please toss that uniform of yours in the laundry once a year. Your Pigpen cloud seriously makes me gag. It's so bad that I can tell when you've just re-stocked the pantry because it smells like a hamper. Then I've got to wait another fifteen minutes for the air to clear before I can pull myself together and return to make a cup of coffee. Thank you!

Weird Wedding Photos Part MMMSKANKYXXX

Does anyone smell something? I smell something. PU!

The smell-0-meter is totally off the charts with this weird wedding photo, people. Oh, Pamela. Pammy! What the hell is wrong with you? You have big boobies, men think you're gorgeous, you're rich, you have wicked big boobies, you're one marriage away from being Christie Brinkley and you have seriously big boobs. Minus the Uptown Girl provenance of course, and plus the Wrong Side-of-the-Tracks smelly-elly-elly-ness and the wicked big boobs. Why are you marrying at all? Why not let a special dude or two squeeze and suck on your boobies without all the hassle of paperwork and tabloid mania? Heck, at least when Christie decided to marry men who wanted to play with her boobies at least they looked liked they showered once in awhile. Okay, ok: Billy Joel's had his share of benders, but he appeared as if he may had taken a soapy sponge to his person! Once! In awhile!

First you're Mrs. Tommy Lee, Mrs. Kid Rock, and now this skank? Rick Saloman? Frankly? Pammy? It's gross. And I'm a little uncomfortable with the fact that thanks to you and Tommy Lee, I know what your boobies and your bing bang and your hoo hah look like. And you happen to have married someone whom, thanks to Paris Hilton, I now know what his boobies, bing bang and hoo ha look like. So, that means basically is that I'm not only thinking about the fact that you two are boning, all the time, I know exactly what those parts look like in action, and well, I...I...I...can't be thinking about this kind of shit whenever I see you in the tabloids! That's just mean and smelly. To me! And everyone else whom doesn't want to be

• in that room
• on that boat
• on that airplane
• in that parking lot
• in that tanning booth
• in that jacuzzi
• in that bounce castle
• _____________
• _____________
• _____________

with you when you're doing it! NOW PUT THAT SHIT AWAY PLEASE!