Words for My Enjoyment

An Open Letter To You, Orange Citrus Finger Smeller

December 30th, 2006

You love oranges, I get it.

You probably peel an orange with those hands of yours after you finish your tuna fish sandwich each and every day at lunchtime. You probably think to yourself how glorious it is that you’re infusing your body with well-needed vitamin C and having a healthy snack that’s leagues ahead of the typical chips and/or protein bars. You probably happily munch away at the juicy-goodness of your in-season orange and wonder why the rest of the world hasn’t yet jumped on the bandwagon you’re currently riding.

And that’s why I’m writing this open letter to you, Orange Citrus Finger-Smeller.

There’s three smells, that once you get on your fingers, are very very very hard to get rid of, even with antibacterial soap and/or sandpaper. They are:

• Dog Crap
• Ricotta Cheese
• Orange Peel

Fortunately, society looks down on (and ridicules) people who smell like dog crap and ricotta cheese. And yet, it’s a wonder that if those smells are causing people to be ostracized from society, why it is that people who walk around (like you) with orange peel scented fingers are still allowed to roam free.

See, the problem isn’t necessarily that your hands and fingers smell like orange peel. It’s that absolutely everything you touch ALSO ends up smelling like orange peel. So when you shake my hand, and then I go to touch my stapler, and then I collate a few copies and then those copies end up going to the home office, and then the CEO touches those papers…that a neverending, never-dying scent of orange peel has traveled faster than the Ebola virus, affecting all who come in contact with your citrusy-scent.

Maybe you should just wash your hands after lunch and we could call it even?

Now don’t get me wrong — I know you’re proud of your fruit-eating capabilities. I know you sing the praises of organic oranges like it was the cure for cancer. I know that while you’re in the middle of eating your post-sandwich, pre-afternoon work block orange slices that you feel more alive than ever before (of course, not including the time you went down the waterslide and the force of the water pulled your bathing suit and underwear completely off). I know that given the choice of smearing your face with orange peel, cucumber scrub and/or that mysterious skin-revitalizing $100/bottle Sephora stuff — that the oranges will win each and every time.

But could you just wash your hands anyway?

There’s nothing worse than shaking your hand, scratching my nose, and then having second-hand citrus follow me around for the rest of the day when I didn’t even benefit from eating the damn thing in the first place.

We’d all appreciate it. Okay?

Thanks.

Really.

No. Really.

Posted under Food and Drink, Open Letter, Oranges. |