Times Are Tough: General Smelly

This guy holds a special place in my heart. Let's go down the list. This boy:

1. Is a musician. (Check)
2. Is an artist. (Check)
3. Lives somewhere inconvenient, i.e. at least a 20 minute cab ride away from my house. (Check)
4. Only drinks PBR. (Check)
5. Has very poor personal hygiene. (Oh God, CHECK!!)

It's this last point that puts him on this week's list as a "times are tough" story.

I ran into an old friend, let's call him General Smelly, when I was out at a dive bar last winter. I hadn't seen him in a few years and we instantly hit it off and I was feelin' it. Mostly, I was happy to have a viable prospect who happened to be an old buddy. Yay for me. Shannon was pretty stunned that I would take an interest in him, but what could I say? Times had been tough!

Now, General Smelly is an intense little guy. At 5'5, he has a skeletal, bony frame and sharp cheekbones that would probably cut you if you approached him from the wrong angle. His oily hair is matted to his head and he has a wiry, unkempt beard that Rip Van Wrinkle would covet.

He is the kind of guy that carries around old, dog-eared bibles from the '40s or Russian-English dictionaries in a weathered, leather satchel. Basically, he looks like a homeless Civil War Veteran. He should be warming his hands over an oil barrel on fire under a highway somewhere chomping on a can of baked beans.

When he suggested that he come back to my place for a few more drinks, I figure I'd go with it. I was happy to break my dry spell.

Well, we were sitting on my couch and I literally had to hold my breath because his stench was so bad. I was in amazement. Did he stuff dead cats in his armpits? Was there tuna in his tube socks? How could a human smell so unbearably funky?

"You know, you've had a long day today. Why don't you go unwind and take a shower?" That was my attempt at giving him an out. And he declined, politely.

I insisted, "No, really. You'll feel so much better. Just take one! It's not a big deal." Still, he wouldn't budge on the issue and got up to grab another beer.

I seriously contemplated leaving a trail of PBRs to the shower then pushing him in and turning on the water. What the fuck? I wanted to break my dry spell, but at what cost to my olfactory senses? As I leaned it for another kiss, I thought, "Wow, times must be really tough that this bumfighter is actually able to successfully steal some smooches right now."

After he left, I felt so dirty. Even the couch cushions he sat on smelled like his B.O. I still shudder to think about it. All I can say is that there wasn't a loofah in the world strong enough to exfoliate either his stench or the shame that I felt.

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This Week: "Times are Tough"

Remember that article a few months back that named Philly as one of the ugliest, fattest, most uneducated cities? Well, I hate to say it, but sometimes I secretly concur. It seems that single Philly men folk are nothing more than under/unemployed weirdos that aren't all that cute and aren't all that funny. I know that's harsh, but seriously, alls I need is one funny, smart, cute guy that has his act together and he's NOWHERE to be found. (And trust us, we've looked.)

Now, we're not saying that ALL the men in Philly are hopeless, unattractive cretins...just the single ones we've crossed paths with. There are definitely a few pretty decent dudes here, but trust me, they're all taken. If there's a halfway decent single guy around, good luck nailing him down. The ratio between awesome girls to awesome guys in this town is probably around 20:1. The odds are against you, ladies!

Well, our dear friend Jenna came up with a catchphrase that we think sums up these dire times. Simply put: "Times are tough." That's it. Times have been tough! Say it with a shrug and who is gonna argue with you?

So, for this week we decided to honor our new favorite saying by recounting some stories and drawings about when we have dated guys who are "less than the best" for no other reason besides TIMES ARE TOUGH!

As always, feel free to contact us with your own stories at hi@shmittenkitten.com.

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Quick Rant: The High Price of a Free Cocktail

You know, guys in Philly have some kind of aversion to buying girls drinks. Now, it could be argued that I hang out in places that aren't conducive to finding the type of guy who'd use this as a viable tactic to win my heart, but you know, it's a gesture that I just don't see very often.

Except for this one guy I met at Silk City. This was at the old Silk City. You know, when it was gritty with cracked pleather stools and grimy, slippery floors.

And, that's where I met this guy, let's call him Medieval Times. Seriously, after years of going almost every weekend, this was the ONLY guy who had ever bought me a drink there. You'd think I'd be pumped, which i kind of was at first. AT FIRST. Until, he decided to make buying me a drink his calling card.

The first time he asked to buy me a drink, I said "a Jack and Coke" with a blush. And, I graciously accepted it. "What a nice gent," I thought. He wasn't totally my type; I don't usually go for blonds and he looked like a squat, chubby Thom Yorke. But, I tried to be open to him. He asked for my phone number, which I gave to him after he promised he'd take me out for dinner and a movie. Sure. I couldn't believe my luck that I finally met a normal dude out at Silk City. Yay for me.

And, he did call, which mildly surprised me. Except, he kept changing the plans up until the last minute of our supposed "date." What started out as us going to a concert in Camden together (he claimed that he had procured free tickets and backstage passes from his cool job) turned into him not having an extra ticket for me so I'd have to pick him up from the venue in Camden. Just to re-iterate, for our first date, he wanted me to pick him up from the concert he re-negged on taking me to. Uh, no thanks. So, out of exasperation, I blew him off. I ain't no cab service. So much for being wined and dined. It felt more like I was being whined and annoyed.

Well, after that, every time I'd run into him at Silk City he would give me an intense stare from across the room that I would feel searing into my brain. He'd then whisper something to the bartend then come over to me and shove a tumbler of Jack and Coke into my hand. He'd bow his head and say, "Your drink, my lady" then immediately leave the premises. It was weird.

And, he kept doing this for THREE YEARS. This went on long after I stopped even drinking Jack Daniels! I would've updated my order but I didn't want to encourage him. What would I say? "Hey dude that I blew off three years ago, stop buying me free drinks because it's creeping me out. And, if you are intent on creeping me out, could it be with a vodka and soda with a twist of lime? That'd be great. K, Thnx."

It's like he wanted me to know that he remembered who I was, what I had done to him, and what I drank. Sure enough, if I saw his piggy face through the smoky haze of the bar, I'd have a free cocktail on my hands. I would try and pawn it off to one of my girlfriends. Sometimes, I'd even just leave it on a table untouched. I didn't want his guilt cocktail.

So, the moral of the story is simple: be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. Or, alternately, sometimes the price of a free cocktail is too high.

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Boyz in the Hood: West Philly Vegan Bike Punk

this guy will drag you to some random party/potluck/spoken word/folk show in an abandoned warehouse where you have to enter the building through an art installation shaped as a human vagina.

this guy will also try to convert you to his hardline stance on politics and get visibly angry if you disagree slightly with any parts of his argument. it will escalate to the point where you will be so turned off by his approach that it actually makes the other side seem reasonable. you will be shocked to find yourself thinking thoughts by the end of the night such as, "maybe apartheid is a good idea after all" or, "maybe the homeless should be rounded up and shot by a firing squad." and the collective smell of so much concentrated west philly b.o. will make you gag on your free tempeh salad.

oh, and have fun finding a cab under $20 from west philly to the bar where all of your friends are actually hanging out. Good luck with that. - anna

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