June 2006
How, in the name of all that is holy, can people be unaware of the fact that their breath smells like a rotting corpse? Now, I’ll admit–occasionally, I have bad breath. How do I know this? Because my mouth is one inch below my nose. What happens is that I breathe outwards, or I talk, and I catch a whiff of my own breath, and I am horribly embarrassed. And I immediately remedy the situation.
When I’m sitting across a table from you in a meeting, or God forbid, during lunch or dinner, how in the hell can you not smell your own reeking exhalations? If I can smell you, why can’t YOU smell you? What’s even more baffling is when I smell someone’s breath and I think, “OK, they will brush their teeth soon and it will get better.” But it doesn’t. Their breath is unstoppable.
What is more disgusting to me is when I’m sitting near someone who smells, but it doesn’t seem to be the breath that I smell. It doesn’t seem to be the smell of sweat, either. Is it the smell of the genitals? This I do not know. If it is, then clearly–medical attention is required.
At least when I fart, the smell is temporary. I would rather clear a room with one horrific fart then produce a low-level stink all day long. So the next time I’m sitting near you and I am wincing, or I speak in chopped phrases, it is because I am breathing through my mouth…it is because I can’t comprehend how you don’t smell the terrifying demon flying out of YOUR mouth…it is because I am slowly dying. And it is your fault.
