Saul- how’s your personal body odor these days? If you’ve got about $2,000 to shell out, we can find you a nice woman and get you away from trolling our humble blog.

Saul, maybe you should whip up $1,995. Then you could go out on one of those ‘dates’ you’ve heard so much about.

Simpatico.

Women who take birth control pills, use hormonal patches or implants aren’t good candidates.

They’re going to lose a few more with that one, too.

Bow wow wow yippie yo yippie yeah.

J- That better not be a video of what I think it is. At any rate, I swear I will never click that link.

Dogs of the world, unite, Brad.

You got something wrong with George Clinton, Brad?

Weird.

Careful with that service, Bradrocket. I tried it and it turned out that my perfect odor match was Debbie Schlussel (something about the combination of curdled stomach acid, hatred and drugstore vodka).

Not that the sex isn’t great, but afterwards she berates my Arab half for being a traitor to her orgasm.

Oh, OK. I thought it was a video of gratuitous butt-sniffing. My bad. George Clinton is awesome.

Not that the sex isn’t great, but afterwards she berates my Arab half for being a traitor to her orgasm.

LOL.

I was goin’ to say!

If you gots a problem wit da funk, I think we might know why you can’t get a date!

But we can rule that one out, huh?

A manly man like Ace O’ will pass on the DNA-based smell matching service and go for a can of Play Doh, a few strips of bacon, and a vial of Vulva Original. Set for the night!

Warning: Do not google that third item if at work. NSFW, as Fark claims it has the exclusive right to say.

I think we might know why you can’t get a date!

Actually, I think it’s more that I’m a 28-year-old with the personality of a bitter, senile 80-year-old geezer. Git off my lawn!!!

I recently met a lady on the bus. We were playing ‘Bus Eyes’, then I just started talking to her.

We just got back from a Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings concert, in the middle of the day…

If there’s hope for my frazzled, two children, two babymommas ass, there’s hope for you.

Plus, you gots Teh Snark, dawg!

dangit, t.h.d.s.r.b.s.r.e.p.m., why do you have to live so far away? i think i might love the way you smell.

J-

WTF???2?

Don’t worry, you aren’t limited to those who’d shell out $1,995 for such a service. They tap into the government DNA database. You’re just paying to have that done.

Where are you, sarah?

Give it seven more years, Bradrocket, and then come back and tell us about bitter, 80 year old personalities.

True story: when my students ask me how old I am, I tell them all “I’m a hundred and three”. There are at least five of them who are convinced it’s true. That’s how crochety I am.

You are all a bunch of Whipper McSnappers. I am the oldest person in America not named Norman Podhoretz, and you don’t see me complaining about not getting any action, except for constantly.

So you review new and upcoming music, but you are as old as N-Pod?

Something’s Mcfishy here.

I am paid to review new and upcoming music, just as Poddy is paid to be a deranged old coot.

Okay, Leonard, but I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of subterfuge going on here.

No Effin’ Way!

Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay!

Seriously. That is funny.

The pool of people who are willing to pay $1,995 for any dating service is exceptionally small.

And lonely. Hey, maybe people could start a dating service for people who’d be willing to shell out $2K for the service. Cut out the middleman and all that.

And since the dating service takes away the fun by screening out the criminally insane (any prospective dater who’s been “convicted of a sexual offense, a violent crime or an Internet crime” can’t join in the reindeer games)

If this is true I bet most of the fee goes to database access.

But here’s the mistake these people made and perhaps this will help you too Right Honorable Bradrocket:

As is, this service sounds too cold and scientific (and expensive) for most people. They should have started a religion based around the idea that everyone has their SniffMate. They could start with local seminars on Smelling out Love and with the money they made go on to found the Church of the Heavenly Whiff. In a couple of years they’d have enough cash to sink a battleship.

The real problem with glue whores is you can never get rid of them….

Scratch-n-sniff dating could be the wave of the future if the thought alone didn’t make you throw up in your own mouth

Woman who take birth control pills, use hormonal patches or implants aren’t good candidates. The hormones, the company said, leads women to be attracted to different people than those using other forms of contraception.

um, excuse me. What. The. Fuck?

Scratch-n-sniff dating
Hee hee. Scratch-&-Catch cards!

Woman [sic] who take birth control pills, use hormonal patches or implants aren’t good candidates. The hormones, the company said, leads women to be attracted to different people than those using other forms of contraception.

In other words, if the distaff half goes off hormones, she may not like one’s scent & it’s over? Or if she’s on the pill, she’s more likely to be attracted to, oh, low-life losers like me, for example?

This deserves further research.

throw up in your own mouth

As opposed to throwing up in someone else’s mouth? Well, I guess that would be one way to ensure that you’re olfactorily compatible, smell being so closely related to . . . uh . . . taste. [urp]

And btw, this dating service is all wrong with its cold and clinical “ScienceMatch” name. I predict a much better rate of return if they rebrand and market themselves as Aromance.

Kathleen (OD): I think this is really more about pheromones than simple B. O./English Leather, so it seems possible that messing w/ the hormones could have an effect.

Scratch & Snatch cards, Clyde?

People are, both behaviorally and physiologically speaking, not dogs. Most of us don’t go around smelling the behinds of our fellow humans…

Wait a minute! Is this true? Gee whiz…I feel so foolish.

People are, both behaviorally and physiologically speaking, not dogs.
It is for hard-won nuggets of first-hand-experience wisdom like this that we read S,N!
It saves us making the same mistakes.

Snatch and Scriff?

mikey

I don’t mean to sound like the freak who would participate in this dating service, but there is some truth to it. we naturally emit chemicals that repel or attract other people with compatible chemicals (ie ones that are different from your own, to prevent inbreeding)…the thing is, we pretty efficiently naturally avoid or get wit deez cutiez, so it’s stupid to enlist the help of a $2000 creepy science dating service.

take it from this token Arab med student.
can you imagine the bizarre creepiness this service will spawn? “ooooh, odor #258 is way into me, we might go on a date and actually learn each other’s names soon…”

I talked to Momma today and she told me about seeing this on the news. Now, y’all, I love Momma but Momma thinks the world ends at the Itawamba County line and I freely admit, I thought she’d got this confused with something else. ‘Cause, frankly, she does that a lot. But, no, folks expect other folks to pay two grand to match up pheremones.

And as for pitiful, dateless bastards, in the past three weeks I’ve found out that not only am I officially “too old” for college girls at 32, but three female acquaintences were nursing serious jonesin’ for Momma T.’s red-headed boy in recent years, and yet no one told me about it. When I say “no one”, I mean that it was a topic of convorsation amongst the social circle, but no one seemed to notice that I didn’t have fucking clue. All three women are now married or engaged.

The “too old” thing was pretty irritating, too. Met a young woman at a social function, had a thoroughly enjoyable evening’s convorsation, got me some digits and everything was cool until she thought to ask how long I’d been stomping the terra. The 8 years difference was a bit much, I guess, ’cause I saw the light go off. All told, none of it’s a thang a’tall, as I sort of dig my monastic existence, but damn…all at once was kind of a pain in the ass.

Well, at least I got my care…no, don’t have that either. Mr. Leonard Pierce, I used to be a music journalist. I’m not anymore, but I wish you all the luck in the world with it.

Goddamn, you people are depressing the hell out of me, I swear.

Matt T, it makes my day when you show up here. It’s like reading Eudora Welty, only without the lingering sense that there’s a vase of dying bougainvillea on the sideboard . . .

Note, too, that any attraction that does take place on the basis of pheromones is subliminal, right?

So you meet your pheromonally-selected true love, and both of you are standing there, waiting for the feelin’ to hit–ie, waiting for a subliminal response. Ignoring looks, personality, etc., since that’s not what you paid for. You’re waiting for a conscious appreciation of something that, by definition, will not happen.

You smile emptily, look at your watch, “think you see someone you know across the room,” smile, nod…waiting….waiting…. (BOTH of you.) It’s actually a funny comedy sketch idea: two people waiting to be smitten because that’s what they fucking paid for.

Some enchanted evening
You may sniff a stranger
You may sniff a stranger
Across a crowded room
And somehow you know
You know even then
That somewhere you’ll sniff her
Again and again

You all smell okay from where I’m sitting.

Smiling Mortician,
Man, I haven’t read Welty in far too long, but she’s definately a favorite. Part of it is, admittedly, the Magnolia connection. Matter of fact, my pappaw lived in Bellhaven before he died. Here’s a link to “A Worn Path”, and I can’t think of another piece of American literature in the “short story” mold I love more. I’m sure there is, but I can’t think of one off the top of my head. Maybe “The Bear”. Used to be a time when folks in Mississippi could write.

And, oh yeah, thanks! That’s awful kind of you to say.

There is no amount of money the romantically desperate wont part with, trust me, particularly folk in their mid to late thirties. This is just another scam type matching service, with some pseudo science garbage to support it. the wife & I know a few bachelors & bachellorette’s some of whom are right in the middle of the desperate stage, and the amount of time and money they spend on dating agencies and other love match nonsense is astounding. Even when these things do throw up a match, the only person that seems to be OK with it is the singleton them-self, my god, there has been some rather odd engagement announcements in the last year. I’m kind of feel happier for the friends we know that have just give up on the whole dating scene, they appear to be happier and relatively more balanced than those going through the desperate stage…

says the grumpy old 39 year old…….

Matt, mi amigo. Dude, you’re just inna middle. You can start working the edge now.

See, young and fulla pissnvinegar is one thing. Old, worldweary and and a little crazy is another.

You just gotta pick a side. You’ll find those youngsters are attracted to an older, scarred, slightly angry, bitter and a little scary old fucker. Or the young use ’em up kinda rider.

What y’gotta be willing to do is create some kinda persona. Something mysterious. A good way to do that is to break something expensive. Plate glass window, jukebox, bar mirror. You’ll do a little jail time, but you’ll get crazy laid.

More good advice is available anytime you want. Just ask..

mikey

and Brad, I’m surprised you are having problems in Boston, when i was there a few years ago, i though it was stoting with eligible, good looking woman. Only other place I have been like that was Vancouver, which only really beat Boston down because of that cute Canadian accent the girls have, but the city appeared to be full of intelligent, witty women. Perhaps this was through the eyes of a damn foreigner, but a little more effort ……

Matt:

You’re 32. A problematic age, to be sure, but:

You could be 39. (God willin’, you will be someday.) Yet, all things considered, you’re not, probably, facing the prospect of a bunch of “friends” buying you lots of birthday decorations dominated by the color black. As I am. (Are we still doing the whole turn-40-and-Logan’s Run-termination thing? Why is my palm blinking?)

I would say, “kill me now,” but if I don’t take out the garbage pretty soon the missus will do the job, and it won’t be pretty. Oh, and the doctor called: apparently my yearly checkup is going to take a little longer next time, for reasons he was reluctant to explain. Hmmm.

Matt (and all lovers of great Southern Ladies Lit): Another favorite Eudora piece is Why I Live at the P.O., gloriously available online for your reading pleasure.

throw up in your own mouth

As opposed to throwing up in someone else’s mouth?

“The official cause of death is he died of choking on vomit. It wasn’t his own vomit. He choked on somebody else’s vomit. ”

“Well, nobody knows who’s it was. You can’t really dust for vomit.”

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088258/quotes

Four words that have served me down through the ages:

Do. Not. Eat. That.

mikey

a vase of dying bougainvillea on the sideboard . . .

Bougainvillea don’t have a scent. They’re bracts, not flowers.

Loves me some Eudora Welty, BTW.

Notorious Pat beat me to the Spinal Tap quote.

Hmm….if I weren’t already happily occupied I’d be wondering when they’d start up the dating service for those mature ladies who have a great to deal to offer any young man who’d only care to take a few moments to look past the surface and contemplate it…..Matt, you can leave your number, and if my dearly beloved contracts a fatal case of midlife crisis, I’ll give you a call.

But I digress.

we naturally emit chemicals that repel or attract other people with compatible chemicals
This possibly explains why the Frau Doktorin makes me wear the wetsuit.

Bougainvillea don’t have a scent. They’re bracts, not flowers.

But they can still die, right? Just checking.

Dead bougainvillea smell where live one’s don’t.

Hmm, it seems like these guys have been reading this article. Here are a couple of the bits from it:
“A segment of our DNA called the major histocompatibility complex (MHC) codes for some of these disease-detecting structures, which function as the immune system’s eyes. When a disease is recognized, the immune system’s teeth—the killer T cells—are alerted, and they swarm the intruders, smothering them with destructive enzymes.

Unlike many genes, which have one or two alternative versions (like the genes that code for attached or unattached ear lobes), MHC genes have dozens of alternatives. And unlike earlobe genes, in which the version inherited from one parent dominates so that the version inherited from the other parent is not expressed, MHC genes are “co-dominant.” This means that if a lab mouse inherits a version of an MHC gene for resistance to Disease A from its mother and a version lending resistance to Disease B from its father, that mouse will be able to resist both diseases.
…
It was found, by Wedekind and his team, that how women rate a man’s body odor pleasantness and sexiness depends upon how much of their MHC profile is shared. Overall, women prefer those scents exuded by men whose MHC profiles varied the most from their own. Hence, any given man’s odor could be pleasingly alluring to one woman, yet an offensive turnoff to another.
…
The Swiss researchers found that women taking oral contraceptives (which block conception by tricking the body into thinking it’s pregnant) reported reversed preferences, liking more the smells that reminded them of home and kin. Since the Pill reverses natural preferences, a woman may feel attracted to men she wouldn’t normally notice if she were not on birth control—men who have similar MHC profiles.”

They’re certainly making a big deal over a small preference. The article also notes that humans have more scent glands than most mammals–in short, we stink more than most mammals. Thanks guys.

[…] (Via Sadly No) It seems that some company has read this article and they now have a company based on it. They […]

The real problem with glue whores is you can never get rid of them….

Hence the schoolyard taunt: I used rubbers, they used glue …

Wait that’s not how it goes.

mikey,
I tried the bargin-basement HST thing for a while. As dull and uninteresting as I am these days – and as much fun as I had back then; from what I remember, I had a blast – I gotta admit I wouldn’t go back to all that sound and fury signifiying absolutely nothing for all the sensimilla in Seattle.

Ya know, now that I think about it, I quit writing about the same time I quit drinking, raising hell and chasing tail. Wild Turkey was the pin that held it all together, apparently.

Oh shit, this thread is too weird.

I hung with a glue whore in Bangkok a few years ago.

I’d broken up with my wife of seven years and was drinking in an open-air sidewalk bar (Asok and Sukhumvit) drowning my loneliness when closing time descended and a conspiracy of patrons and staff funnelled us to the Thermae after-hours bar.

We hit it off. She had a sexy-throaty voice and the adorable good looks that can only come from the marital bliss of an American GI and an Esaarn girl staight out of Korat.

After that first night of drunken getting to know you, we started to get together on weekends to smoke “yah bah” and play a card game my ex-wife had taught me.

Then once she showed up with the smell.

She was silly and incoherent and wanted to hump like a rabbit but really wanted to giggle about everything and nothing.

The smell was distinctly that of Super-Glue.

Godfuckit. I know I had something snarky to say, but I eated it.

Something smells fishy here.

Try it M. Woody!

When I first arrived in the Kingdom, the drug of last resort was “thinner” a solvent commonly huffed by the lowest of the low occaisionally to be seen hugging lamposts and screaming incoherently.

Our Lord Bush stole the heroin market from the Golden Triangle, and the Khun Sa mafia(freedom fighters) shifted production to crystal meth because hoo boy the precurser chemicals were cheap and legal and the market was ripe for exploitation.

Bangkok became a city of cranked up bus drivers.

Awwww. Buggrit Milleniumhandandshrimp.

Huff some Super-Glue if don’t believe me….but remember the monomer becomes a polymer in your lungs and you will suffocate.

Day-yum, Brad, I hope you had the good sense to hold off posting this until after Megan posted her cheek swab back!

Matt, if there’s really *three* different ladies you didn’t notice they were giving you the ol’ come-hither, then maybe you are just at a place in your life where you need to be — what you called it? Monastic. It’s not so much de-toxing as it is having to learn new habits. Eventually this stage too will pass, and you’ll wonder what you were so worried about back then. Or so I have observed among my acquaintances.

(Of course I am older than probably everybody here except Mikey, and I’ve been involved with the current partner for coming up on mumble-mumble years. I am told that this mostly proves heterosexual males have very low standards, and that’s my friends talking. Just call me the Wife of Bath, ‘cuz right now I feel at least 800 years old.)

Crazy assholes require sendahole.com.

Lonely monomer seeks similar, with aim of dimerizing.