The Ick Stik

Have you ever gotten that gift from someone that’s so perfect, it’s as though it speaks to your soul?  You see it and say to yourself, “This person gets me, they really get me!”  That gift for me most recently was the Ick Stik.

One of my coworkers happened upon the Ick Stik at a local drugstore and said she immediately thought of me.  While most people would be confused, possibly offended, I had nothing but adoration for that thing of beauty.  A stick to control the ick …. WHERE DO I SIGN UP!

What is an Ick Stik you ask?  Look and see for yourself.

My new best friend.

No longer must you sit on that subway car smelling the wretched B.O. of the un-showered passenger pressed against you, or question if the scent that your olfactory nerve is picking up on is urine (p.s. it is).  Alas, you can breathe (semi)free knowing that when you inhale, the only thing going into those nostrils is masked with a delightfully sweet twang of flowers mixed with joyous relief (cue the Ick Stik!)

The motive behind this gift also deserves an explanation.  My coworkers see me at my craziest, those vulnerable moments post-subway when I’m all fired up and still boiling with rage from that carriage ride of horror.  I sometimes try and cool down during my Dunkin Donuts run to get my morning coffee, but it rarely proves long enough to help me come down from my crazy subway high.

Not to make another Vincent D'Onofrio remark, but I almost feel like I am his alien character from Men in Black when I get off the subway.  If you've seen the movie, you’ll remember that he looked all discombobulated and would walk as though he was repulsed with his own skin.  And when he went to speak it was so incoherent and angry sounding, 99% of the time you were just like, “What?!”  That’s what I imagine I look like Monday – Friday at around 9:30am.  Unless you want me to go all alien cray cray on you, you best come back to see me closer to 10am.

Now that my coworkers have become very familiar with my blog, they love mimicking my subway exploits.  One of my coworkers has a simple take on my blog, and whenever he imitates me, he likes to use his best valley girl-esque voice.

His Interpretation:

“Someone sneezed on the subway today and didn’t cover their nose …. gross.” 

“I touched the subway pole today…. gross.”

“Someone on the subway had dandruff and their dandruff touched me …. gross.”

Add a little bit of humor and sass and this boiled down summary is not far off from the truth.  Gross things literally happen every day in NYC, and for some reason, I feel like I have a higher likelihood of witnessing them.  This is clearly ironic as I, of all people, don’t have the wherewithal to cope with it.

But perhaps my path in life is to witness all of these shenanigans so I can share them with you all.  It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.  So I've enlisted the help of the Ick Stick (aka my new best friend and subway sidekick) to help get me through it all …. odor, apply, relief, don't mind if I do!

Words to live by