I get the feeling I need to be paying the estate of Lynnyrd Skynnyrd a lot of money. I keep wandering around the young dudes and asking out loud, “What’s that smell?”
No, it’s not the smell of burned and overcooked food wafting from my kitchen. I’m pretty sure it’s dudefunk. Or it’s even worse variant — teen dudefunk.
There’s just something about a teenager, someone who often doesn’t actually care that much about his personal grooming in the first place, hitting the teen years. I’m seeing — smelling — it mostly from the two older young dudes in the house. The only reason Hyper Lad isn’t stinkin’ up the joint is he hasn’t hit puberty yet so he’s not producing the stinky kind of sweat. Yea for prepubescence!
Seriously, I have to fight with the little dude to actually take a shower. I mean, I’d better like what he’s wearing on Friday because that will be the only thing he has on until I grab him by the scruff of the neck and throw him into the shower on Sunday evening.
I’ve even thought of fogging their rooms with deodorant spray while they’re sleeping. I’d do it too, if I didn’t think I’d have to use lethal amounts to make any headway on the funk.
So, here’s to you, teen dudes. May you discover — in a big way — that girls aren’t all into the funk. Funky, sure. Just not the funk.