Ooh That Smell - Part 3

Here we go again. It's not enough that has-been tartlets like Britney Spears and Mariah Carey and Shania Twain have their own "signature scents", now they have to go and give has-been tartlet television shows their own perfumes.

Desperate Housewives perfume will hit the market next year, just in time for the show to hit rock-bottom and only be watched by people who still think it's cool to say "You go girl". Now I have to get all psychic again and predict what "Eau de Desperate To Eat" is going to smell like:

"Prepare to be whisked away to Wisteria Lane on the sexy, shimmery waves of Botox, Dulcolax, and a Brazilian Wax - or really any substance that contains the letter "X" that will leave you hairless, your face paralyzed, and your colon as empty as your skanktankerous casting couch soul - as sprinkles of Dexatrim gently pelt you into a glazed-over state of denial that your show is going down faster than Eva Longoria on an NBA player, or that guy from N'Sync, or that other guy."

I can only hope that there's a CSI: Miami perfume in the works. I want to smell like blacklights and DNA and David Caruso's jowls.

Maggie