I Taste Bad

I must taste bad. Especially to mosquitos. They simply don't bother me. My Lady Wonder Wench is in the bathroom applying itch ointment to a mountain of mosquito bites to surprisingly personal places. She obviously tastes good. Which figures when you look at her. But that makes her a human salad bar for mosquitoes.
There is a difference between tasting bad, and bad taste. Tasting bad makes you mosquito proof, keeps you from sucking your thumb when it's time to write a check for your income tax, and keeps elderly aunt kisses at a minimum when you are a child. Bad taste is wearing a nose ring with bi-focals, spiked hair and a bald spot, and short shorts with varicose veins.
Big Louie, his own bad self, The Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation always says, "Don't sweat that stuff. Just wear what ever you can still button that doesn't itch, and can still pass the sniff test." You like to wear a thong with your depends... go for it.