The Mysterious, Deep Guy Effect

I was meandering around the drug store yesterday picking up some of the usual male maintenance essentials when I happened upon the deodorant shelf. Usually I am quick to grab whatever sports gel-stick that appeals to my manly X-treme sports enthusiast machismo (actually I’m just trying to cover up some armpit stench), but today was a new day, a day unlike no other, a day that could very well change my life forever, or at least until payday when I can afford to spend 50 bones on cologne. I see this Axe Body Spray right underneath the Old Spice for Very Old Men (not to offend any Old Spice fans out there but my pop used to get Soap-on-a-Rope for Christmas every year from my aunt who had no idea what on earth else to get him, and I smelled it one time and realized the reason they attached the rope to the soap was so you could hang yourself from your showerhead for being such a loser to actually use it). Anyway back to the Axe, I have actually eye-witnessed men on 30-second TV advertisements being attacked, ravaged even, by hoards of hot busty wanton women in such sex dens as an elevator and a board room, and solely because they sprayed themselves with this remarkable new product. So I think to myself, "Wow, if this guy is having success with the ladies in the elevator at work, imagine what titillating rewards it may reap in a real pick-up joint like a book club." I pick up a can of the Voodoo scent, and read the nutritional information on the back, for I MUST know more...

"An oriental, spicy scent, for the mysterious, deep guy effect. A sure way to put a spell on that sultry, otherworldly vixen."

SOLD AMERICAN!!!!

As I am completing my purchase at the register the cute checkout girl is smiling at me, and not because my fly is down this time, and not because I didn't slick the cowlicks in my eyebrows down this time. No, this time she was obviously put under a spell, lured into uncontrollable giddiness by a mysterious, deep guy (that would be me).

I rush home and proceed to strip down to my skinnies and spray the axe all over, and meticulously following the instructions on the can, I go especially heavy over my "hot spots". I think I may have gotten a little trigger-happy because the room started clouding up, and with my aerosol indulgence I probably put a bigger hole in the ozone layer than a convention of heifers at a Taco Bell buffet. Then again the ozone of the earth is such a small sacrifice compared to my own personal BO.

smell check 1...smell check 1,2...smell check 1,2,3...

Immediately I get a long, dreamy whiff of the spicy, oriental scent...I am taken away to a mysterious ancient land, with funny hats and hard to pronounce vowel sounds...I feel like Genghis Khan...I feel like Marco...Polo...Marco...Polo...I feel like, like, like, like CHUCK NORRIS!

Well, I sure can't wait until the sultry, otherworldly vixens in the office cubes today get a noseful of my Van Dam Nice Smelling Bod...methinks I'll be fighting them off with my company-provided dead-pen collection which I have been saving for just such an appropriate occasion...spray on sex, what more could one ask for???