No Metaphors In My Kitchen, Thank You

I really don’t want them, but it appears I have no choice. Who’s bright idea was it, and why weren’t we, the consumer, consulted?

How do I know they’re not damaging my health?

Suddenly, it’s become impossible to purchase disposable garbage bags that don’t smell like they’ve spent the last few weeks in Heidi Fleiss’s boudoir. If the manufacturers must insist on impregnating their products with the odor of a whore’s bed chamber, I believe I have a right to know which chemicals are involved and if there’s any possibility they may be carcinogenic, because frankly, this being America, I can’t trust the manufacturer to put my welfare above his profit margin.

Presumably, this ‘essence de Mata Hari’ is meant to disguise the stench of garbage left too long in the kitchen trash can. I have news for the unsophisticated American executive whose idea led to this unwarranted intrusion of my olfactory organs: the collectors come twice a week and remove my rubbish before it reaches a peak of putrescence demanding the addition of your noxious chemicals. Garishly scented garbage bags may suit Americans content to hoard their rubbish for months to save a few dollars on trash removal, but this particular resident would prefer a standard, preferably bio-degradable (as if!) non-nasally insulting container designed solely for the purpose for which it is used.

I am, of course, overlooking the possibility that the inventor of these products intends they replace the bald eagle as a gloriously apt symbol of America and its way of life. The concept of a huge, scent-emitting, garbage bag capable of enclosing those many aspects of US culture rapidly decomposing in the great trash can of American political and socio-economic ideology, while disguising the resultant miasmic stench continually permeating the rest of the planet, may yet prove an excellent idea.

Just not in my kitchen, thank you.

Filed under:

7 Replies to “No Metaphors In My Kitchen, Thank You”

  1. I’ve realised that this “add-on” thing seems to be an integral part of American mentality. Adding scent to garbage bags, flavours to coffee (YUK!), adding multiple toppings to already delicious ice cream (in fact adding anything to ice cream is sacrilege to me). Adding a fancy finish to bricks in brick-built houses – I had to overcome revulsion to this when we bought ours!

    As an antidote to the add-on mentality, I’ve concentrated on becoming “minimalist” – I buy only unscented soap, unscented deodorant & dryer sheets, unflavoured breakfast cereal, plain coffee, plain ice cream, etc. etc.

  2. I suggest a smaller trash can – about the size that would hold the small plastic bags that you get with everything these days. Recycle, reuse.

    I hate perfumes too. Gives me headaches and are worse than cigarette smoke by far. The worst paid job I ever had was working for an inventory service that added up inventory in stores for tax purposes. I remember one variety store where I went from counting scented candles to urinal cakes. Man was I nauseous!

  3. Me again. A bit of trivia. I read somewhere that the preferred perfume of whores is Chanel No 5.

  4. *buffs nails casually*

    Weeeelllll….

    Up here in the colonies, my gov’t just paid every man, woman, child, illegal immigrant and outright scabber… basically, everybody who eats and sleeps here… a hundred bucks to ‘personally contribute towards an environmental solution’. They’re paying us two thousand bucks for every pre-1995 car we can push in to get the gas monsters off the road, and this municipality just paid a million clams for a fancy-shmanzy recycle truck that reduces household garbage by at least 30%.

    Wanna move?

    My condolences on the scent. Truly annoying. Maybe you could assert your territorial rights and mark them with some sort of male spray….?

    Brut? Old Spice?

  5. Only question:
    What on earth are “urinal cakes”?
    I know I’ve led a pure and saintly life but could I be enlightened?
    I’ve got these visions of a patisserie set up in the men’s loo to help them relax. Stop me.
    XO
    WWW
    My granddaughter calls these smelly product intrusions “nose-anoids”. I would suggest you go to a green or eco store.

  6. Wise Woman: They are these blobs that sit on the bottom of a urinal and stink enough to overpower the smell of pee.

  7. Items are constantly changing in America, with no input from the consumer. Suddenly, all trash bags on the shelf are ‘perfumed’; one’s usual conservative shampoo or shower wash disappears, to be replaced by a garish, luminescent liquid in an equally abhorrent bottle with a totally different name.

    “Oh, it’s a new line,” the assistant smiles seductively, as though one should leap four feet off the ground and emit a resounding “Yippee!” that the manufacturer’s have taken the trouble to replace your familiar, faintly scented, old bottle with something once only available on an acid trip.

    Wouldn’t it be cheaper to ask our opinion, rather than employ a myriad young, wet-behind-the ears, college grads with degrees in “marketing”?

    Obviously not, otherwise they’d do it.

Comments are closed.