While I don’t particularly enjoy the stale cigarette smell from the music grad currently sitting behind me, nor the decaying food smell that occasionally sits lurking around the trashcan by the door until maintenance remembers us, both are at least more understandable as grad student smells than the old-lady-powder-perfume smell of the girl I like to think of as Stinky McGee.  I have had several notable olfactory encounters with Ms. McGee, including knowing she’d gotten to the carrels before me because I could smell her in the stairway to 7w, knowing it was her who had entered the room, because her smell wafted up the cubicles ahead of her, and knowing she was in the bathroom on the 6th floor because I could smell her halfway down the hallway.  Smelly McGee is not my favorite person.