Hawaiian Breeze makes me feel fiiiiiine blowing through the jasmine in my miiiiiiind.........and then I appear on camera wearing my irresistible pink hibiscus muumuu while my recently cut she-mullet hair flaps seductively in the fan-created wind.
Well, that would be the idealistic scenario and a lot more commercial worthy than where the Infidel household has actually stationed their coveted can of Hawaiian Breeze air freshener: The bathroom--where all the miracles of Infidel digestion and elimination takes place.
I'd like to say that one push of the spray button elicits an intoxicating scent that transports you to a relaxing hammock smack in the middle of a fragrant pineapple plantation.
Quite truthfully though, the smell is more akin to taking a big dump at a luau...........much to the horror of everyone around you trying in vain to enjoy the last succulent remnants of their aptly named Pu Pu Platter.
Forget the matchbook trick, what we really need is a flaming troupe of Hawaiian fire dancers in our bathroom to dissolve the odious odors because it's just too big a task to assign a paltry can of .97 cent air freshener.
Sorry Glade, Inc. The Infidel Family heartily defeated you this round. Rematch?