When life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade. Instead, take your rage out inappropriately on your coworkers/employees and demand impractical, impossible things of them. Make them invent combustible lemons that’ll burn life’s house down, since you can’t speak to life’s manager. Who the hell gave life the right to send all these lemons to you anyway? Doesn’t life know citrus is only good in perfumes and cocktails? What the actual fuck, life? Lemonade is for children; sweet, sweet vengeance is for adults. When life gives you lemons, say fuck the lemons and bail by blowing a hole in the wall and leaving. Now you’re thinking with portal.
Scent notes: goddamn lemons, lemonade made from life’s stupid lemons, high octane gasoline, scraps of paper from a totally sane scientist’s notebook, that same scientist’s manly musk acquired from too many days in the lab, spicy ginger and black pepper.