Edward Scissorhands | The Embiggens Project

I possess a very keen sense of smell, but there is something that I have always wondered, but been afraid to ask. Do nostrils smell? Of course, I know that nostrils are capable of enabling us to sense a smell. What I am asking is “do nostrils, themselves, actually emit an odour?” I have never sniffed with any nose other than mine, so maybe I have just become accustomed to the smell of my own nasal cavity. What if it really stinks and, as a result, I am not able to smell the world around me properly?

Maybe Tim Horton’s coffee doesn’t really smell like skunk butt.

Oh no. I have always loved the smell of freshly pumped gasoline–a fact that has raised many an eyebrow over the last few decades. Ugh, I’m old. Maybe it smells horrible–like asparagus pee–and I don’t know it.

How can any of us really be sure that our own nose aromas aren’t interfering with our sense of smell? The only way to be sure is to rip off another person’s nose and borrow it. You know–try that childhood “got your nose” trick, but really mean it.

Speaking of body parts, I love Tim Burton movies. He’s rather an odd duck, I know, but his bizarre perspective on the world translates into brilliant films. I have always wondered, however, how Edward Scissorhands partakes in rock, paper, scissors. Seriously. Only an idiot would do the old “one, two, three” and pull out a flat paper hand.

And, as long as I am on the subject of idiots. In Canada, we have a dishwasher detergent called “Cascade” and its commercials star a woman who solves dish-related domestic disputes. Unbeknownst to me, it would appear that we Canadians take our dish washing very seriously. This sage of plates and forks refers to herself as the “Cascade Kitchen Counsellor,” presenting troubled dirty dish owners with this miraculous product that can remove baked-on foods and marital discord in one dishwasher cycle. This is my new dream job.