Day Four: Sniff Me, Baby, One More Time

Thanks to everyone who boosted my ego after my "Strangers on a Bus" post. I didn't expect that, but I sure do love it. I guess I'm going to be a tough act to follow now, so I won't even try. Today's post will be shallow and superficial (more like the real me.)

So, two nights ago I was driving home from the theater (oh, I have news! I just got cast in a really cool play called Sylvia! And here's the strange part. I'm playing a socialite drunk. [No, that part is not really strange.] Named Phyllis. And back in November I wrote an entire blog post called "Phyllis" for the most obscure of reasons! It was like foreshadowing! Uncanny!) and David texted to ask me to stop for fro-yo. Now, I like some fro-yo after an audition as much as the next girl, so I obediently complied.

The place was empty except for the teenage employee, but the Beyonce was so loud I had the urge to start choreographing. I carefully applied the Cocoa Pebbles. I was just considering the vat of hot fudge when the girl said:

"It's Britney Spears's Fantasy, right?"

Readers, so many conflicting emotions swelled in my bosom in the next few seconds. The earliest of which looked like this:

Fantasy by Britney Spears:

1. Wake up--why are these tiny dogs walking on my face? Oh, right. Give Mama some sugar.
2. Gunnar Peterson calls--Boot Camp is canceled!
3. Eat Cheetos, handily open on nightstand.
4. Traverse spiral staircase to first floor. Butler is waiting with black coffee. Hold the phone--I can hardly tell I have a hangover!
5. Jason Trawick calls. That guy is so dependable. Drinks at Chateau Marmont later.
6. MTV calls. They want me for VMAs again! Said no glitter bikini this time, for some reason.
7. Nanny comes in with the boys. Give Mama some sugar. Ooh, what is that smell? Oh, okay, buh-bye, boys! See you tomorrow!
8. Cheeto break.
9. Video hip-hop rehearsal. Look at me. I'm magnificent. No wonder I'm all over US Weekly.
10. Papparazzi waiting for my limo at Chateau M. I've still got it! And sweet! I remembered to wear panties!

Suddenly, I snap to attention. No, that is not what she meant. She's talking about...perfume! And I'm so cool! I actually know that, because I read US Weekly!

I don't wear perfume. The last time I did I was 13, and I favored Oscar de la Renta at 35 dollars an ounce. That was an expensive habit. Then I read an article that said "Babies do most of their bonding with adults through smell." And I thought, I want everyone to be able to bond with me through smell. Perfume will confuse the matter.

So, no, I wasn't wearing Fantasy. But this girl thought I was. Let's whip out some scientific method here.

Construct a hypothesis: I must smell like Fantasy.

Test your hypothesis: "Do I smell like Fantasy?"

Analyze your data and draw a conclusion: Response was affirmative. Ergo, I smell like something. What do I smell like? Oh, Warm Vanilla Sugar lotion. Which must smell like Fantasy. Which is horrible. Wait, why is it horrible? Because I don't want to smell like Britney Spears? But, apparently I do. I DO WANT TO SMELL LIKE BRITNEY SPEARS.

Communicate your results: "It's my lotion. But if you recognize the smell, I think I would love Fantasy by Britney Spears. I should get some."

And there you have it, Readers. A humbling moment for moi. I smell like Britney Spears, or at least how she WANTS to smell. In reality, she probably smells like Cheetos.