Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

I am a man of science, and as such, recently conducted an experiment to test the validity of Mr. Takei's claim that "Eau My" will, to paraphrase, "deliver the finest scent in the whole of the Alpha Quadrant." In the interest of fairness, my assistant delivered three different scents on three different nights: one was the "leading brand," one was saline. The last was, of course, "Eau My." He recorded the events that transpired - keeping in mind that I was unaware (at the time) of what was being administered. The first was the leading cologne. My assistant noted more compliments than I typically received on my scent, but nothing of particular significance. The second was saline solution. No effects, either beneficial or adverse, were noted. The third contained Takei's "Eau My." By 8 PM, I had bedded seven women. Two of the encounters were threesomes; one was a foursome. My success continued as I began touring trendy, upscale New York clubs. Each invited my assistant and me to their respective VIP sections at no charge, as well as refusing payment for drinks on the grounds that "a man of your stature is above such things." Riding high on the wave of Takei's sprayable elixir, I pulled out the bottle and decided to refresh my scent. That, my friends, is where it all went so terribly wrong. The club lights painted the walls in a horrifying way - a sea of faces writhing and contorting themselves into pained expressions - while the sound of Daft Punk's "Get Lucky" turned into a cacophony of anguished shrieks, each building and building until I felt my psyche shrink into itself a thousand times over. I collapsed onto the floor, and looked up to see the man who I believed was the Devil, but was in fact my assistant. He rushed me to our Maserati - we had been gifted one by a man who asked nothing but to bask in my effervescence for a few brief moments - and sped back toward the lab amidst the wail of ambulance sirens. We arrived some minutes later. Finding myself in a state of sheer psychosis, and frantic to recapture the glory of my earlier conquests, I began injecting the cologne. Yet no more than a few seconds after administering the dose, I had torn the needle from my arm, stabbed my assistant repeatedly, and mutilated much of his face and neck. I then began to eat three of my own fingers - a behavior often referred to as "pheromone-induced self-cannibalism" in medical literature - before declaring myself "Arch Wyvern of Thee Black Abyss" and painting the walls with bloody, sacrilegious symbols. With this in mind, I can only tepidly recommend George Takei's "Eau My." Three sprays are pure magic; after four or more, you run the risk of waking up days later to find that everyone you love has been murdered by your own hand.