Got my androtics in the mail. The bottles say Boca Raton? Huh?
I decide to try experimenting a bit. I mix up a atomizer with 2.5 ml of Brut just to be a carrier, 5 drops of Alter Ego (never tried this before, but it’s higher in 'none with a little 'nol and 'rone- also heavily spiked with neroli), 2 sprays of Instant Shine (it is x2 strength), 1 spray of Instant Openness (x2), and 2 sprays of Instant Female Magic (I got two bottles of this for some reason, must be a freebee- good thing it doesn’t have a scent).
So, I decide to escape the bordem of the declining dollar, soaring gas prices and Ted Kennedy’s brain tumor on CNN, go out to the mall. I get in the car (40 mpg diesel- too bad diesel is over $4 per gallon), it’s rush hour so traffic sucks. But I don’t care, I’m having fun playing “mad scientist”. I’m totally chilled out behind the wheel, even though it’s really a different experience driving a car (I cut my finger on a straigt razor, can’t ride my bike for a while- and I hate riding in rush hour anyways, too many insane drivers.. but I digress). I decide at the last minute to go to Ross and look for some cheap clothes and do some observations. I get in the parking lot, put 4 spritzes of the brew on my arms, rub them together, and go in.
Crap, I smell the neroli, it’s faint but I smell it (I’ve practically got a “nose”). I am not a big neroli fan. The only orange frag I find halfway good is, well.. OCC Full Throttle… and I’m not even a big Orange County Choppers fan- you will not find me on American iron, sory (I bought 4 bottles of this stuff on sale, it’s a pepper-orange-leather frag that’s decent). So I smell like a CK guy, young hip inner city youth or metrosexual (I can’t decide) now or something, but I perservere in the interests of science- not to be racist but there’s something vaguely “African-American” about the smell of all the pheros, the little bit of Brut, and the neroli (at least to me)- it smells vaguely like black cosmetics/hair treatments. Maybe Alter Ego is to blame more than Androtics in this matter.
I decide to give myself another spritz for the hell of it, right on the neck. So, I go in and browse around . Not many people there. I pick up some shirts and a french coffee press and get in line. There are two women in line . One of them is a plain, but classy old British/Aussie (can’t tell) tourist. I pretend not to notice her. She’s having problems checking out. I stare off into space, feigning disinterest and showing patience. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her LOOK ME FROM HEAD TO TOE. Not long , but it seemed more than a casual glance. Interesting. I’ve rarely had this happen before (maybe she smells the Orange Glo on me?). Could be coincidence, maybe not. The cashier was friendly enough, nothing out of the ordinary. I gave him fleeting glances in his eyes, just so I wouldn’t have a repeat of “I think I’m in love with you… in a perfectly hetero way of course”.
OK, I get in the car and drive to the bookstore/coffee shop. Nothing much happens here. There’s a guy behind the counter, and a woman. They both seem a little nervous but polite. I then get in the car and go to the drugstore and look around. Again, not much happens initially. An African-American woman is milling about in the drug/bandaids sections. I go to look for some stuff there that I need. She is searching up and down the aisles, and seems to not be intimidated by me at all, but she isn’t really following me around or anything like that. This may or may not be unusual, sometimes I freak people out, so who knows. I get to the register and there’s a guy there. I’ve seen him before, usually I’m dressed in my Mighty Morphin Power Rangers motorcycle jacket, sunglasses and boots- but today I’m wearing a clean yellow polo shirt and cheap jeans. He recognizes me. Maybe the beard and glasses give it away.
“Got your discount card, Sir”… hmm… interesting response. He seems to be in a good mood, and calls me sir. Interesting- this rarely happens in Central Florida for me, usually people seem tired and pissed off, and usually confuse me for somebody younger. Granted, I’m no spring chicken but I look a few years younger than 30 (thanks to the fact I started using sunscreen a few years ago), at least compared to the average sun worshipper down here in America’s Wang- no crows feet but a few lines starting to appear on my face. He calls me sir a total of two times during my checkout- interesting, but still not sure it’s pheros. Maybe he’s just scared as hell of bikers (hah hah). At the end of checking out, he cracks a lame joke and laughs. I chuckle a bit, and give a Sly Stalone-esque sneery grin. (I almost never smile big), say “Thanks, see you later” in a restrained but friendly tone, and leave.
Reps 