This is pretty simple.
I’ve always been really sensitive to smells. Kind of like a dog, but probably not quite that good at smelling. I do wish I were a dog so that I could smell everything, but that is not the point of this post at all.
Here’s the point.
My husband smells like goldfish. Not the actual fish. Those little fish-shaped cheese crackers that kids like.
I like them too. I love goldfish so much. One time, I ate a whole gallon-sized carton of them all by myself over the course of a week. Do you realize how many extra calories that is? It’s a lot. A freaking lot, people.
Anyway, my husband normally doesn’t smell like goldfish, which is why I find this kind of unnerving. He normally smells like, you know, a normal human being, or like laundry detergent when I actually do laundry, which is almost never. But I’m telling you—he either ate a bunch of goldfish, or he’s hiding them somewhere on his person, which would just be so weird. I hope it’s not that.
Of course, he denies this.
I’m all, “You smell like goldfish.”
And he’s like, “What?” and then he’s like, “Why?”
And I’m all, “You tell me. You’re the one that smells like goldfish.”
And he’s like, “I haven’t eaten a goldfish in about ten years.”
Then I say that I don’t believe him, and at that point he kind of just lets it go, because he knows there’s no convincing me otherwise, and that’s smart, because there isn’t. (Actually, I think we all learned that lesson when I asked him if he was Superman.) I know what I’m smelling. I’m not crazy. I just think that if he has some goldfish, he should share with me.
And actually, it’s not even regular goldfish that he smells like. It’s the rainbow-colored ones. You know, the purple and red and green ones. Have you ever noticed that those have a different smell than normal goldfish? Because they totally do. They’re a little more…nutty…I think.
But I digress.
In the end, it doesn’t really matter whether he ate them or not. The second I got a whiff of those things, this is all I could see for the rest of the night:
P.S. – I showed my husband this picture in hopes that he would be very frightened and would go and get me some goldfish so that I wouldn’t eat his head, but he was just mildly amused instead. He’ll be sorry.
P.S.S. – Obviously, Pepperidge Farm had nothing to do with me writing this post. I’m sure they would be weirded out to even be a part of this. Too bad and too late—they’re in it now.