Category Archives: true life 2001

What’s that smell?

Things have been very hectic at work so no one has had time to play “What’s that smell?”

In fact, it’s been so long that I thought perhaps it had become a thing of the past.

Sadly, I was mistaken. I guess this is a sign things are slowing down a little.

Background: There’s something wonky about our HVAC system at work. At least once a week a very faint bad smell – sort of like sour milk – drifts through the building. It goes away fairly quickly, and it’s not overpowering.

Nevertheless, nearly every time the smell wafts through someone notices it and begins wandering around asking everyone else about the smell.

All work must stop while we go through the motions of a little performance piece I like to call “What’s that smell?” You only need 2 people to stage this piece, but 7-9 seems to provide an optimal cast.

Costuming and sets are at the discretion of the director.

“What’s that smell?”
“Do you smell that?”
“I don’t smell anything.”
“I smell something.”
“Wait…Yeah, I think I do.”
“What’s that smell? Do you smell it?”
“Is that sour milk?”
“Hey, why are you guys sniffing? Is the smell back?”
“I don’t smell it.”
“I smelled it last week.”
“This is a new smell.”
“No, I think it’s the same smell.”
“It seems different to me.”
“No. It smells like milk.”
“But it smells like maybe different milk.”
“Are you sure.”
“Yeah…No…now it seems different.”
“Different than last time?”
“No. Different than a minute ago.”
“It doesn’t smell as strong.”
“Do you think it’s going away?”
“What’s going away?”
“The smell.”
“I don’t smell anything.”
“Do you smell anything?”
“Does anyone smell that?”
“Should we call someone?”
“Do you think it’s coming from the airvent?”
“Maybe.”
“No. It’s not from the airvent.”
“Hey, do you smell that?”
“Yeah. It sort of smells. Do you think it smells?”
“I don’t think it’s coming from the airvent. It’s over here.”
“Isn’t that the airvent?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“I smell something. Do you smell something?”
“What IS that smell?”
“Should we call someone?”
“Does anyone smell something?”

Adults. Walking and sniffing. Sniffing and walking.

“It’s sort of like rancid milk.”
“Maybe.”
“It sort of smells like baby”
“Yeah. That old milk smell babies have.”
“Babies smell like old milk?”
“Why are you talking about baby smells?”
“Because it smells in here.”
“Does it?”
“Don’t you smell it?”
“No.”
“Try sniffing over here.”
“Hey, you’re right. It smells. What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Should we call someone?”
“I don’t really smell it anymore.”
“It still smells over here.”

Are you picturing lots of people wandering around, sniffing the air? This is followed 10 minute debate about what it smells like. Consensus: sour milk. Every. Time.

The smell is usually long gone before the conversation ends.

Apparently, we’ve been playing “What’s that smell?” since the building was built. Over 20 years ago. And it’s the same people who get wound up about it every time.

Did I mention these are all actual snippets from real episodes of “What’s that smell?” that I’ve jotted down over the years? Because they are. Verbatim. Ad infinitum.

Not Do Lists

To Do lists are passe, my freaky little friends. It’s much better to make lists of the things you aren’t going to do today. Here’s my Not Do list for today:

  • Have that 5th cup of coffee
  • Chase the UPS truck down the street (again) to see if Mr. UPS Man has my computer
  • Let Nisa and our monkey butler coat me in butter
  • Yell at visual artists who try to tell me how sound “should” be done even though they don’t have a fucking clue
  • Get to work on time
  • Link to the Washington Post
  • Yodel in the ladies room
  • Wear fairy wings and coat myself in glitter

I was going to put “bathe” on the list, but that seems like a bad idea. I better get on that now or I’m going to have to change “get to work on time” to “get to work at all.”

You'd think I'd have mastered that whole reading comprehension thing, but baby you'd be wrong.

Every once in a while a friend yanks something off the

Topics Blog and won’t

let us rest until we write something about it. I’ll give

you the question he sent out and my answer. I think you

can figure out where the problem occurred…

The Question:A lot of people have a love-hate

relationship to snow. What about you?
My answer: I’m going to make this a quickie

because I don’t generally have any strong feelings

either way. Not to mention the fact that these things

kind of annoy me. Here’s my answer so you can quit

bitching about how I never play nice. Love? Hate? Those

are strong words. I didn’t get a single cold between

1985 and 1999. I’d forgotten what I was missing. The

thing I hate most about a cold is the way one’s body

becomes a giant mucous-producing factory. I can cope

with a lot of things, but a runny nose isn’t one of

them. I hate having a runny nose. I can deal with

sneezing, so I guess it’s not the mucous I hate per se;

but the way that it chooses to exit the body. Snot is

useful, though. I can’t say this is a reason to

love it, but it’s pretty miserable when your

sinuses get really dried out so I’d say it does have a

useful purpose that one should at least appreciate. I

can’t say I can push it far enough to say you should

love it for that reason alone. I’m sorry, but

this is an incredibly stupid question and I honestly

just don’t have anymore to say about it.

Tomahawk and Syrup at the Black Cat

(this entry has been edited due to an outbreak of stupidity on my part)

Should we just skip ahead to the part where our cars got towed? Nah, we’ll get there.

I liked Tomahawk well enough, but I felt it was more-of-the-same Mike Patton, less of a band.

The opening band, Syrup , was a pleasant surprise.

Although they had a few axe-bobbing synchronization/choreography issues in their first number, once they got into the groove they had those Motown dance steps down. They played honest-to-god Southern Rock. It was a fine and wonderful thing. Except that the crowd didn’t know what to do. So they stood there motionless. (Moment of duh: Syrup was a pleasant surprise??? Did I really write that? Syrup toured with Nashville Pussy. I know who Syrup is. The short-term memory loss is clearly much worse than I realized. I blame Husband. He kept jabbering last night about a German techno outfit by the same name. He caused my confusion.)

Sometimes, during Syrup’s set, members of the crowd would yell for Mike Patton or Mr. Bungle. Really, I don’t care how much you don’t appear to wish to see the opening act, yelling for the headliner through their set is obnoxious as hell. I felt sorry for Syrup, I felt like we should get up and dance on stage. Anything to let them know that not everyone in the crowd was a jerk.

They weren’t done yelling stupid things. When Tomahawk took the stage, they were still yelling for Mike Patton. And Mr. Bungle. And Faith No More.

  • You are at a Tomahawk Show. It’s lovely that you know the names of Mike Patton’s other bands. Your mother must be very proud. Now please shut up.
  • You are at a Tomahawk show. Has it occurred to you there are other people up on the stage? At one point, after Loud Guy yelled “Bungle Rules” in my ear for the 10th time, I contemplated climbing up on the bar and yelling odes to the Melvins and the Jesus Lizard. Other members of the band have resumes, too.
  • What was up with the groupie shopping for Tomahawk?
    I just want to go to the ladies room. I’m not looking for anyone to blow, but, uh, thanks for the offer.
  • Somewhere in the confusion that followed I lost my notes from the show. If they turn up I’ll revise this.

    So, after the show, we all walk to our cars together. Or I should say, we walked to where are cars were. Our cars were gone. For one brief shining moment I thought someone had stolen my car. No such luck, they were all gone. That means they were towed. Towed in DC. I’ve never been towed, but I know that the words “towed in DC” are not words for the faint of heart. When they tow your car in DC, they take it to a mysterious location in Northeast, and you frequently can’t retrieve it for days (while the fees add up and up). To compound everyone’s anxiety, Nisa had 2 hours to get to a plane and other members or our party were hitting the road
    Saturday morning, as well.

    We located the cars without too much trouble. Now, most people get towed OUT of Adam’s Morgan, a very crowded, parking-deprived area of the city. Not me. I get towed FROM 14th street TO Adam’s Morgan. What’s that about?

    I’m not complaining (too much). We ransomed our cars (at 180 dollars each. One Hundred Eighty Dollars. Each) and were on our way. It sucked, but it could have sucked so much more.

    I need more coffee. I suspect that this is incoherent.

    (I was right. Now I’ve edited it. It’s still incoherent, but the spelling is improved).

    Victoria's Secret Fashion Show

    We watched about 2 minutes of that Victoria’s Secret fashion show thing on ABC. It was incredibly stupid, but damn I wish I’d been a fly on the wall at that pitch meeting. “What goes better with skinny white women in lingerie than…a gospel choir!”

    I have to go now. Fox Channel 5 (“We have an hour to fill”) is doing a hard-hitting expose on cheerleaders. I think I still have a couple of braincells holding hands and this should take care of that.