ROTF clean.smelling.Justin.not.a.fruit...
Great post... too much!!!
I am pleased to announce that this chick does not have one bottle of anything that resembles perfume in this house though I do have a can of Off! for my outdoor adventures.
I am into being clean... the kind of fresh scent that is only noticed when one is up close and personal... shampoo, Camay, and bath powder... otherwise... you cannot smell me. <ggg>
My father wore Old Spice. Not sure I'd exactly describe him as an old-school gentleman... but part of him is very traditional and very protective of his daughters... story coming.
Ksquared, since you can't remember the smell of English Leather, are we to assume that your young men fell into Group B ... ? <g>
Not as long as my father is alive... at least back when I was under his roof. One of the reasons the "bad boys" of the neighborhood did not mess with me.
It was a very middle class enclave... the 50s version of pioneer America. All these WWII vets literally built their own houses. I remember the two-weekend basement pouring party... The men laid every other section of concrete while the women fixed a mega lunch and we kids ran around getting in the way. A barn-raising of sorts.
Well... at the top of the development lived a peer of mine... youngest of three boys. His older brothers were academic superstars and excellent athletes... both went to MIT like their father did. All three were dang handsome... two of which were drop dead gorgeous... oldest and youngest (my friend). Oldest was so good looking that my baby brother is named after him.
Their youngest... Craig... rebelled as the youngest often do... was one of if not the top high school mechanic/s in the state. Eyes were an aquamarine that I have only seen on him... so unusual that his pupils faded to white in B&W photos... in his senior picture all you see are his pupils... gives him the look of a bizarre alien.
He got into trouble from the time he could walk... culminating with a heroin addiction starting at 17... almost made it to his 40th birthday before he died of an overdose in a Morristown A&P bathroom...
Anyway... there was a 25th anniversary party for the Glacier Hills Pool in 1989. 38-year-old-me was there with the family and all my little childhood buddies. We were standing in a circle yapping away... laughing and enjoying ourselves. I was engrossed in conversation with Craig when I felt a hand grip my upper arm... hard... I was being dragged across the gravel of the parking lot. I looked over. It was my father. I said...
"WHAT are you doing?"
He released me with a deadly glare.
Good old Pop... No wonder I am not married... on many levels.
<ggg>
Whew.
I was virtuous.
I got over it.
BTW... better put your tee shirt back on Justin before my dad sees you... He can still split wood with an axe. "Every tool is a weapon if you hold it right." <g>
tripping.again.down.ksquared.memory.lane
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