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Axe Body Spray – The Funk of 40000 Years

Had to pick up a few things at CVS today (my favorite store).  I was strolling down the aisle with my Iced Earl Grey Latte in one hand (from Peet’s, another favorite place), and my little shopping basket in the other.  A guy passed me going the other way.  I was about to pull a jar of peanut butter off the shelf, when I was momentarily frozen in my tracks by the impenetrable wall of Axe Body Spray that the guy left in his wake.  Time froze, my lungs were choked for air….I was sure this was it.  My headstone would say, “She died from some dudes overuse of Axe.  The body spray, not the hand tool.”

Guys, please quit using this stuff.

My friends and I have joked that it is “The Smell of Desperation” and “Eau de Douchebag”.  Their own instructions are to spray it “all over your body”.  NO.  You guys know how you hate it when girls wear too much perfume?  YOU ARE NOW THAT GIRL.  Some schools have even banned wearing it because it STINKS.

Even worse are those who think that it can be used in lieu of a shower.  No, it can’t.  Guys, please, for the love of everything that is good in the world, shower every day.  Please use soap.  Honestly, that’s all you need.    Please don’t use Axe Body Wash.  That’s like a double whammy of yuck.  I call it “The Funk of 40,000 Years”, because the smell doesn’t dissipate during the day.  It just forms a cloud around you, like Pigpen from Charlie Brown, only not as adorable.  No matter what the commercials or the bottle try to tell you, that smell won’t get you laid.

No girl wants to sleep with a guy who reeks of Axe.  Because then the smell gets all over her, and she has to shower in bleach to get it off.

The guys I have dated have used Irish Spring bar soap, or Old Spice Body Wash, and they smelled clean, not like a chemical bukkake (if you don’t know what that word means, don’t look it up.  Seriously.).  So please, do the people of America a favor.

Don’t use Axe.

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Born in March with a bad attitude. Crushing on Norman Reedus, Sean Patrick Flanery, and Balthazar Getty to name a few. Walking Dead/Talking Dead addict. Snail saviour. The only Hell my mama ever raised.

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