(Start with "Monday" if you can. All week we're talking about "A Scent of a Woman" and if you don't begin at the beginning, you won't understand today's stench.) And if you'd like to get another weekly whiff (don't worry, I'm finally starting to run low on "smell" puns) please subscribe. It's a weekly, hassle-free email of insider blog stuff, news, and some dandy Laughing IS Conceivable offers coming soon.
So what was I talking about? Oh right. This bit on the news claiming that men are more attracted to women at the time of the month when they're at their most fertile. "A Scent of a Woman". I think I've been going about it all wrong. I always thought I was supposed to shower twice as much at that time to kill that smell. Who knows how many potential paramours went down the drain because I inadvertently washed them away?
My concern is: What if we're attracting the wrong guys at our most fertile time? Here we are, going through all of these treatments trying to get ourselves as fertile as possible and then, when we're ripe for the picking, your husband can't get near you because the losers in the neighborhood picked up your scent.
"Honey, when you come home from work tonight, come through the back door. The idiot brothers from down the block, their cousin from Trenton and a couple of guys I don't even know have been on the front porch all day!"
Okay, I'll be the first to admit it: I've never been a head turner...No matter what time of the month, season of the year, or year of the decade. I know you'll be shocked to hear this: But most women who've spent the vast majority of their lives trying to be humorous are not physical stunners. We learn somewhere around age three that our looks aren't getting us anywhere so we'd better find something else.
Look at the drop-dead gorgeous women who have made their livings on the Stand-Up Comedy circuit. Rosie O'Donnell, Whoopi Goldberg, Cathy Griffin (pre-twelve million dollars worth of "Witness Protection Program" worthy cosmetic surgery), Wanda Sykes, Joan Rivers (Before or after the surgery).... All smart, often brilliant, hilarious women. And they've all made fantastic careers for themselves, in part, because they probably suspected early on that they may have to rely on their wits instead of their looks to get by. My point is: Comedy clubs are like the Queen song: "There ain't no beauty queens at this locality."
The one and only time I've ever stopped traffic was in New York when a bicycle messenger ran me down. Even then I only stopped traffic because I was interfering with rush hour. Two guys left their cars just long enough to scrape me out of the intersection, toss me onto the sidewalk, and jump back into their vehicles before the light changed. The messenger readjusted his backpack and inspected his bike to make sure I hadn't damaged the handle bars with my collar bone and then sped off to his next delivery.
I've been mocking this whole "A Scent of A Woman" theory all week but I actually like the idea of it. It's nice to know that no matter what you look like at that fertile time of the month, somewhere there are guys dying to have you... even if they don't know why either.
Listen, I gotta go. There's a tornado warning and my arms are too short to box with GD or type from under my desk.
I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.