Hey Lady! Your perfume stinks like a possum that crawled under the house and died. Sorry to be so blunt, but right now the stench is snaking into my olfactory system and bombarding the inside of my nose with tiny daggers of smell and burning my eyes like tear gas. My juicy, perfectly-cooked steak, which I was thoroughly enjoying in this fine restaurant before you sat down at the next table, now tastes like your perfume. Didja bathe in that crap? Wash your clothes in it? The only possible explanation for your outrageous, wanton, liberal use of such a malodorous scent is that you, yourself, have no sense of smell. Or else, your continued use of that foully reeking miasma has chemically cauterized the nerve endings in your own nose. Now I can’t even sit and enjoy dessert and a chat with my husband – I gotta get outta here now! And I know I will have a headache by the time I get home. Thanks for ruining a nice evening.
Restaurants: you need a no-stinking section.
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