“I don’t know how they do it, but this smells EXACTLY like Rancid Garbage. Just remarkable.”
Do you smell that?
No? That’s strange, because I’m holding it right under your nose. Here, let me help you out by shoving it into your face. Oh, wait – the lid’s still on. One second.
By now, you’ve probably guessed that Wife and I are in a Yankee Candle on a Candle Huffing Date, which is a truly, truly remarkable guess. Great job.
The particular candle we are currently whiffing, “Marshmallow Factory Explosion,” would be about as subtle as a dump truck off-roading in the White Mountains to any mammal with a decent pair of nostrils. But since we are awkward, over-evolved humans, and not adorable basset hound puppies, the scent is just strong enough to elicit a meager, “Oh, yea…it does kinda smell like an exploding marshmallow factory. Heh. Oo, let’s try that one!”
I’m not sure why Candle Huffing is so fun.
Maybe it’s because my sense of smell is so weak that the moment I step into a candle shop I feel like Neo in The Matrix when he wakes up in that giant pudding snack cup and uses his eyes for the first time.
Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to date.
Whatever it is, I lo-ooooo-ve Candle Huffing. Wife loves it too. Forget dinner and a movie. This is our new jam.
I’m not sure the teenager working the cash register loved it, though. She just stood there while we smelled over fifty different candles, watching us like we were tweaking glue sniffers touring an Elmer’s plant.
Nailsbails 