[Setting: Me at a crowded press conference. I walk up to podium in my tuxedo tee shirt, put on bifocals, take out a piece of paper and begin reading the following language into microphone to captivated audience.]
Hello ladies and gentlemen.
I have noticed something over the years that maybe you have too. Either that or I was born with mutant armpit bacteria that survives and adapts itself to whichever brand of deodorant/anti perspirant I happen to be using:
I've done it a million times, and you probably have too. The all too familiar act of standing in the deodorant/anti perspirant aisle of Target popping the caps off and huffing away trying to find a stink that suits your fancy, all the while hoping against hope that no one walks by catching you sniffing the stink sticks.. Because although it's obvious to passers by that one is taste testing the bouquets, so-to-speak, a dude standing there sniffing deodorant is always a most peculiar thing to see.
After a few minutes of sniffing, I find The One. It is usually dubbed with a very bizarre, far fetched flavor name like "Mountain Breeze" or "Cool Sport". Deodorant flavors never represent what the stuff actually smells like, but I reckon it's considerably more romantic to consumers than real ingredient names such as "Fragrance No. 3" or "chromium hydroxide green". Excuse the digression. Anyways...
I take it to the counter, fork over the $1.97 deodorant adoption fee and walk around for the following week in a mild aura of what a mountain breeze evidently smells like. I'm happy. I can raise my arms in the air at any given moment with little or no concern of unpleasant underarm aroma paying the noses of standers-by a visit.
And then it happens.
After approximately 30% of the stick has been used, it seems to stop working. Don't get me wrong, the fresh mountain scent in my armpits is still in tow, but the breeze just isn't as strong as it once was. My armpits are now at the bottom of the mountain rather than at the top of it being aired out by swift, clean mountain air. And it just goes downhill from there (no pun intended).. the soothing aroma eventually disappears altogether, I am back to my body's regular perspiration/funk agenda, and the smell I fear, underarm onion, returns with a great vengeance. No matter how much of the product I apply, in spite of the fact that I just bought it a few weeks ago and there's a lot left, it is rendered completely useless. I am smelly once again and have to get out the daily planner to pencil in another inevitable date with Target's deodorant aisle to start the charade all over again.
So, the Anti Perspirant Conspiracy Theory goes like this: The companies fill the sticks 2/3 full with throwaway garbage that looks like deodorant. Then they top if off with the real stuff to fool you while you're huffing away at Target. During shipment to stores, the real stuff mingles, as Emeril would put it, with the fake stuff beneath it, so it adopts a subtle amount of the fragrance and makes you think, hm.. it still smells okay, there must be something wrong with my pits. At which point it's that time to go to the store and buy... you guessed it: more deodorant. All this to save a few bucks at the pitstick factory and move more product. But I'm on to them. And now you are too. They can't rip us off anymore. If I'm paying $1.97 for a stick of anti perspirant, then god dammit, I want my $1.97's worth!
Perhaps naming my band Iced Ink was subconsciously inspired by that there theory, yes? That's yet another conspiracy theory for you, because I'll take it to the grave with me and you'll never know.
Thank you and good day.
[insert thundering applause here]
ps - Attn. spray can users: before you suggest it, I would try that route, however the spray cans are highly combustable, and I would prefer not to burst into flames should I be spraying my pits down and munching on Wintergreen Lifesavers. (see my safety tip from a few days back)