Come Back To Again.

Alfred Sung is what I opted for this morning. Of all the scents at my reach I chose it.  An unholy mixture of Valentine Day candy heart purple dye and olfactory confusion that does many things, not least of which is guarantee plenty of breathing room on the bus. I laid it on with a trowel this morning, and I just couldn’t care less. It is either this or the entire bus smelling of cilantro, salsa and Axe body spray. I won’t do it. Which is to say I can’t. I managed to stay relatively vertical when Hillary Clinton walked out onto the debate stage wearing white after Labor Day, but the accumulation of it all could prove just too unsettling. Alfred Sung it is.

I arrived at work and managed to get through 28 minutes of mindless activity before I had to break for coffee and carbs. I’m a little shocked at how many carbs I purchased. Crackers, pretzels and crisps in a single trip and I didn’t even have a basket. I just clutched the things and stood in line as though waiting to be sent to the gulag.  The pretzels are endorsed by Mike Trout who is just about the most underrated fatty in baseball besides Evan Gattis and Kyle Seager so it was really given and I can take them home and gorge which I will be doing if the Dodger’s don’t advance to the World Series.

Everyone I have come into contact with this morning has been unusually kindly and I have to attribute it to the Alfred Sung. I think it has a hypnotic and entrancing effect on the weak minded, and any time you walk through Century City you are positively walking through actual clouds of detached, medicated dementia so the slightest aphrodisiac can do wonders.