Sitting in my recliner this morning, reaching over for my cuppa coffee sitting on the little table, I smelled Taco Bell. Furrowed brow, wrinkled nose, wondering where in the world the smell of Taco Bell meat was coming from. And then I realized: ME. My armpits, to be precise. Smelled like Taco Bell meat.
AND I HAVEN’T HAD TACO BELL MEAT LATELY.
When I went to bed I didn’t smell like Taco Bell meat. I don’t know what happened during that REM sleep, but somewhere along the way I worked up enough of a sweat to smell like a fast food chain upon waking.
Now go. Get a taco. Think of me (my armpit) when you’re eating.