It's Just Wrong

We have a problem here.  We have a very acute contrast that needs to be corrected, quickly.

I just paid a visit to the office men's room.  I'm standing there at urinal station two, everything is going great, no turbulence to report.  So I'm relaxed.  About three seconds into the process, the overwhelming smell of the room invades my nose and consciousness.  It's not what you're thinking.  It's not even remotely related to what you're thinking and that is the problem.  Our men's room smells like fresh, hot-out-the-oven vanilla cake.  Not just vanilla, mind you, because that's a popular enough scent in candles and incense and such as to be innocuous by now, but rather, warm vanilla cake.  If you're going to load the scent dispenser in a men's room (and please, please do that), you need to be using your pines, your ocean breezes, your sandalwoods.  Hell, I'll even give you "clean cotton" because, as we all know, at least that is related to what's happening in a restroom in the opposite sense.  But in no instance anywhere, ever should there be a food scent fogged into a men's room where all hell has been known to break loose frequently throughout any given 60 hour work week, especially not a food as specific and delicious and emotionally-provoking as warm vanilla cake.

Sure enough, just as I was hurrying along to finish and escape this gas chamber of horrors, some nameless of pair of feet gave us all a jarring blast from its ass, seemingly just to drive home the point.  Warm vanilla cake in a men's room is a scent confounding to the senses, a senseless choice made by an obviously sadistic mind.