My Watchband is Stinky
So stinky, in fact, that I might have to stop wearing it. How did it come to this?
I love my watch. It is the second coolest watch I have ever had. It's a Diesel, which means nothing, but it's boxy but curvy and just enough bulgy with a lovely green face and a dark brown leather band. A dark brown stinky leather band.
I only have one watch. Doesn't everyone? Maybe some women have more that one. Like a "formal" watch and a casual watch, or different ones that match different things. Come to think of it, I remember that my Mom used to have about twenty Swatches. She was/is a compulsive shopper. Do men have more than one watch? I'm sure rich men do. And maybe joggers and such have a "sportswatch" (is that a word?) and a regular watch.
I am high on Dayquil. And life... Not really, just Dayquil.
Anyway one thing is for certain, I am a one-watch man. This watch really is quite beautiful, and I get compliments on it all the time, from people of all walks of life. In popularity it ranks second only to the Sacred Green Streetwatch of 1999. I bought this watch from a street vendor in NYC (you'll never guess when!) and I loved it, and it loved me, and everyone who saw it was struck dumb by its beauty. Dumb people were struck even stupider. I bought it for $12. It never broke. It changed my life. It had a deep emerald shiny green round face with silver hands and numbers, and a half inch thick disk of flat round glass on top of the face, not framed by nothing. (Wow, my descriptive abilities suck). The band was silvery. You just have to take my word for it, it was fucking beautiful. Everybody who saw it, said it. Everybody. Everyone. I got jealous sometimes because my watch was more popular than me. For a year it was by far my most admired attribute. "Yeah, he's an okay guy... kinda weird, maybe a little paranoid. Drinks too much. Cool watch though." That's a direct quote from my Dad. Just kidding. Anyway, I had it for a year before I lost it (Stupid, stupid, stupid! One of the dumbest losses of my life! Far worse that my leaving a bag of baked Hanukah goodies from my Mom in a bar last night, which was still quite stupid). In that year, my watch did not get stinky, even for a day.
Yeah, it was a metal band. But I've had watches with leather bands, and they never got stinky. Which leads me to the only logical conclusion:
I'm getting stinkier.
It's true. And sad. I sweat like a roasting pig at night, stinky man I am. It must be the extra weight. It's surprising, and scary, seeing that getting a big fat gut actually causes a myriad of phyiological changes, aside from gut-fatness itself.
So what do I do about this? Right, I should get a new watchband. But getting a new watchband is one of those things I just can't fathom doing.
My watchband is very stinky. The kind of stink that would make a cat sniff it all over for five minutes and then look up at you with that open-mouth face that says, "Wow, nice stink." If you are a cat-fan, you know the face. What it actually means is that the cat is using these special glands to "download" the smell into its sensory database. What the cat does with the memorized smell, I don't know. Maybe if it's sitting around bored it can open the smell-files and check out that really cool stink from a week ago. So when a cat makes that face, it's saying, "Now that's a stink worth remembering."
Rest in Peace to my beloved Louie, a cat I lived with from the age of 9 or so until I moved away from home. Louie passed away at my Mom's last week. He was a big, fat, lazy-ass indoor cat, and I always thought he would die of a heart attack, but he surprised us all by living to an old age and, in fact, he died of some kidney problems.
Louie and I were pals, and played together quite a bit, especially when he was young and frisky. He had some vicious battles against a raccoon puppet I would wear on my hand. When he grew up and got fatter and lazier, the only game he was the one where he would lay on his back looking like a fat walrus and bat at strings or sticks you dragged by him. If our other cat, Claudia, would run by to chase the string or stick, because she was not lazy and still believed playing was an active kind of a thing, he would swat her too.
Louie loved my Mom, because she loved him, and also she fed him. A lot. He was very good at convincing her to give him all sorts of tasty morsels in addition to his regular meals. He was very convincing, with a deep, warbling tenor voice. Rather than the cheerful begging style of meows, which Claudia employed, meows that basically said "You should feed me because I'm nice," or the annoying whiny begging of other cats, Louie had a style all his own. As I may have mentioned before, he was fat, but by God he made the most of it. His voice was deeper and fuller than any other cat voice I've heard, and he really sang. He would look up at you and open his mouth and let loose a full, open-voweled wail, that wasn't a "meow" as much as a "MWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHRAARAAARAAAAAAH!" He was not begging or whining, he was insisiting, which is not to say there was a plaintive, pleading tone to it, almost tragic. He sounded like Pavarotti singing the famous tragic "Ridi, Pagliaccio" aria from I Pagliacci.
Louie got along okay with my Dad, but he was definitely more of a Mama's boy. But he loooooooved my Dad's undershirts. When he found on of my Dad's white, pit-stained undershirts on the floor, his eyes opened wide and he dug his head around in it and sniffed and sniffed and sniffed and opened his mouth and downloaded the scent-of-the-day. In his smell-database he had compiled files for a groundbreaking PhD thesis on the evolution of my Dad's stinks over a ten year period. He loved it more than catnip. He loved my Dad's undershirts so much I almost thought that he was gay, if not for the fact that he still ****ed the **** out of Claudia when she was in heat, despite the fact that he'd been neutered.
When I think of Louie I think of a lot of things, and one thing I think of his him looking up at me from a facefull of undershirt, his mouth hanging open, saying "Wow, man, you should really check out this stink. I mean yesterday was stinky, but this stink... that's somethin' else." I don't remember when I last saw Louie, or if I had my watch at the time, but if I did, it wouldn't have been stinky yet. I'm sorry he's gone, because I would've liked to have seen him again. I would've taken off my watch, laid it down before him, and seen what he thought of the stink. I think he would have liked it. It's really, really stinky.
Rest in peace, Louie. I miss you.
~Monty
12:09:13 PM 
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