Wax on, Wax off

I'm not one of those overly sensitive types. I never say "awwww" when I see a puppy or a baby and you'll never catch me watching a chick flick unless there is a loaded pistol pointed at my head. If Julia Roberts or Sandra Bullock are in the movie, go right ahead and squeeze the trigger. But, I do have a thing for candles.

That's right - you heard me. Candles.

Maybe it's the little pyro inside me that likes lighting things on fire. Then again, maybe I'm one of those smell-aholics. I like to cruise over to whatever section of the store has the scented candles, flip off the little bubble tops and inhale the essence of it like some demented drug fiend. As I'm sure you know, the olfactory sense (that's the sense of smell, for those in the cheap seats) is closely linked with the sense of taste. Generally, I like to buy a candle that I wouldn't mind eating. Now don't look at me like that - I know you have weird thoughts, too. I realized there was a link to the two senses a long time ago.

So, let's step into the Wayback Machine, m'kay?

When I was young, I would eat just about anything. When I say anything, I mean just that. I ate insects, spiders, Play-Doh - you name it. I even made myself sick by chugging a generous portion of Morton Salt (I thought it was sugar. Sue me). So, it must have come as a bit of a surprise to my mom when I refused to eat sweet potatoes. Maybe they were yams. Beats me. They're the same thing to me. Now, my mom was, and still is, a tremendous cook, but sweet potatoes - regardless of who makes them - smell like the boy's bathroom of some long-condemned middle school. Yes, even YOUR sweet potatoes. So, when she tried to get me to eat them, I shook my head furiously, like an armless man trying to get a bee off his nose. It went down like this, more or less:

Mom: "Just try it, Kevin."
Me: "No. I'll get sick."
Mom: "Oh no you won't. Just try a little."
Me: "Mom, it's going to make me throw up."
Mom: "Put a little bit on your fork and taste it."

This went on for much longer than I wanted. Eventually, I was strong-armed into tasting it. Ever the prophet, I put about 10 molecules of sweet potato on my fork, put it in my mouth...and vomited all over the dinner table. Mom never made me try anything again that I didn't want. But, this story is about candles, so let's get back to the present day.

When I ease on over to the candles section of any store, you can tell which person I am. I'm the guy trying to shove half of his head into the Chocolate Chip Cookie candle. Or the Cinnamon Bun, Melon or French Vanilla. I've never tastes Fresh Linen - but I love that candle smell, too. It set me to thinking - if I was to make a candle, what smell would I give it? I came up with five - coming to a Yankee Candle Shoppe near you in the future:

Coffee - Is there anything more intoxicating as the smell of fresh-brewed coffee in the morning? Even non-coffee drinkers have told me they love the smell of a fresh cup o' Joe. This one could be dangerous, as I could see lighting this candle in the morning while I have my REAL cup of coffee, and, still somewhat bleary-eyes, trying to drink it. I think it's a mistake I would make only once; that is, if I had more confidence in myself that early in the morning. Candle name: Fresh Brew

Bacon - I asked if there was anything more intoxicating as the smell of fresh-brewed coffee in the morning. Well, there is: bacon. The smell of bacon in the morning is like having your dream girl (or guy, depending on who you are) roll over next to you, look you in the eye, and saying, "one more time." I've actually had the smell of bacon literally lift me out of bed, Linda Blair-style, and float me into the kitchen. And when I go camping in Autumn, the smell of bacon inspires me to rise out of the tent, place my fists on either side of my waist, thrust my head to the skies and proclaim, "This will be the perfect day!" even as I see a life-obliterating asteroid rocketing towards me at a zillion miles per hour. Candle name: Makin' Bacon

Steak - If you've read my story on my love affair with steak, you know this needs no explanation. In fact, I will have to cut this description short because I can feel my chest hair growing. Candle name: Porterhouse

New Car - Since the time of the dinosaurs, scientists have tried to duplicate the new car smell in their laboratories. One of the most important aspects of buying a new car is for that smell. Ask almost anyone who buys a new car (and not one that is pre-owned) if they would still make that purchase if there was no new car smell, and I guarantee you they would probably settle for something lesser that had that smell. There was an episode of "Married...With Children" where Al Bundy (the father) bought a new car and his family jumped in when he brought it home. The first thing he told them when they noticed the smell was, "Hey! Don't suck up all of the "new"..." Art imitating life. Comedy, thy name is Bundy. Candle name: (what else?) New Car

Pheromone - One way animals attracts each other is through an odorless component known as pheromones. It is picked up by members of the opposite sex and is supposed to unconsciously attract a female to a male. Men don't need this component in women because all we need to see is a nice set of...well, you get the gist. Anyway, I'd like to mix up the most irresistible batch of male pheromones, make it into a candle, and invite the Swedish Bikini Team over for dinner. Of course, I would never sell it because then other guys would buy it and any advantage I would have would be blown. Then again, maybe it would work better as a deodorant since I can't reasonably be expected to haul a candle into Borders or Barnes & Noble and start waving it under the noses of the eggheaded beauties scouring the Erotic Yoga section. Couldn't work any worse than the pheromones I'm emitting now. Candle name: None of your bees wax

The sense of smell is the one most closely associated with memory. Smelling mom's spaghetti sauce reminds me of making pasta in the basement with my grandmother, smelling Jim Beam reminds me of the time I drank a large iced-tea glass of whiskey at Lori Johnson's graduation party - and my resulting fully-clothed shower afterwards and smelling horse manure reminds me of the entire Julia Roberts movie catalog.

Just don't make any sweet potato candles.