Tyler’s feet
Okay, let me tell you a little something about the stench of the “trash juice” mixed with Tyler’s feet.
I am already disgusted by feet, so when asked to smell Tyler’s, I jokingly and nicely leaned my face toward the floor. In my innocence, I thought he would leave them planted firmly on the hardwood, but instead he lifted them toward my face so that my nose was about 4 inches from them.
The smell… the smell… It wasn’t how you would expect even the dirtiest, sweatiest foot to smell. It was worse than the smell from the girl who pooped the floor- because at least you knew what poop smelled like. This was something alien.
I got a pretty strong whiff (to my misfortune), and I will try to describe how it attacked my olfactory sense now. It smelled as though he had taken a footbath made of warm Cheez Whiz and then toweled off his feet with a moldy, rotten towel that had been chewed on by the beaver living under their step. Then he had stuffed his feet into gym socks that had been sitting in Shookman’s bathroom before he cleaned the toilet bowl with just his feet. Lastly, he waded around in an industrial sized trash can. After all this was when I had the misfortune of smelling his feet.
I literally ran out of the house gagging, and I thought I was going to vomit. If only I hadn’t been the one to willingly smell Brian’s pits all these years, I wouldn’t be the “Do I smell?-go-to-girl.” I still shudder to think about the stench. Ugh.
Post by Jess Grunberg, who may never smell again.
