Today on the light rail, I was smelled by another woman.

First of all, I was in Dallas from Thursday-Monday, hence the lack of posts. Thanks for being patient and waiting for me to come back. I know you missed your daily dose of crazy stories. I wanted to check out the dart rail in Dallas, but didn’t exactly have much time for public transit research. And yesterday morning…well…I was too worried about my friend to pay attention to crazy people on the light rail.

So alas, though still not completely clear in the head, I have a story to share. What had happened was….

I sat down next to a rather busty woman with my pink bag in my lap. She was seemingly homeless (or at least poor) by the looks of her attire and her personal hygeine. She smiled when I sat down.
Smeller: “How you doin today?”
Me: “Alright, and you?”
Smeller: “The Lord blessed me with another day alive so I’m great!”
Good attitude…I guess maybe I should stop hating my life every morning.
Me: “Amen.”

We sit there in silence for the next few stops. I picked up my 4th Palm Pre yesterday (don’t buy that POS phone…I warned you), so I’m adding apps and fixing my email in order to occupy time. Oh and I was checking on prices for directv and/or Dish since Phonoscope has a monopoly on the cable at my apartment and I’m trying to get by that since it sucks.

But not to bore you with my mundane life….

Smeller: (Insert long smell here complete with the noise you make when you smell) “Mmmm what kinda shampoo you use? you smell good.”
That was awkward.
Me: “Ummm I dunno. Whatever I buy.”
Smeller: “You wearin some perfume or sumpin?”
Me: “Deoderant?”
The woman sniffs again!!! Her nose is touching my shoulder!!
Smeller: “No dat ain’t it..you gots sumpin on?”
Me: “I don’t remember.”
Smeller: “Well you smell pretty. I jus wanted to know what it was so I could get some.”
Me: “Maybe I put on Victoria’s Secret Very Sexy for Her…but I don’t wear it every day so I’m not sure I have it on.”
Smeller: “hmmm maybe it’s just yo laundry detergent..whatchu use?”
Me: “whatever cleans my clothes…”
Smeller: “I like it.”

I stop talking to her and pretend somebody calls but I’m really talking to my voicemail. I gradually moved to the very edge of the seat row, so much that I nearly fell a few times while “talking” on the phone.

Moral of the story: I’m not a flower.