The smell of red clay mud means “home,” “safe,” “nurturing.” From my grandparents’ dug out basement that opened out onto the slope of the backyard, filled with canned food and gourds and the wringer washer, among other things. I guess that’s why even though clay smells dank it also makes me think of warm sunlight, too.
Embroidered things remind me of my grandmother’s. The smell of kapusta immediately makes me happy.
Due to some previous domestic violence, I get horribly aggressive when someone I don’t know or like gets in my personal space.
When I hear a morning dove “who who who” I think of my Grandmothers house in Van Horn Iowa from 50 years ago.
Taylor Swift or young girls like her in provocative cloths and poses.
The smell of weed when I walk thru a concert parking lot.
Channel #5, preferably on a young girl (like Taylor Swift).
Certain songs (but strangely not Taylor Swift songs)
So basically if I came across a scantily clad Taylor Swift smoking a joint, rocking to Aerosmith, bent over suggestively in lingerie and caught a whiff of Channel #5 on her I would just dehydrate from excessive drool right then and there. 
Apologizing to a woman gives me a boner. (Or the beginnings of one anyway.)
That’s because when I was married, we basically did this on a weekly basis: Argue>Aopologize>Have sex.
This one’s probably common:
Driving home from wherever, tiny urge to pee. The closer I get to home, the greater the urge. By the time the garage door comes down and I close that car door, I’m thinking Am I going to make it to the can? The wife has this, too; it’s a good thing we have two bathrooms.
Dentists - in or out of their offices. I had a friend die in the chair way back when I was a kid and since then I’ve just had a total phobia. I was friends in college with a family of eight kids; even went out with a couple of the sisters. Knew the mom well and used to give her rides when she was hung up and needed to get somewhere. Didn’t even meet the dad until I was 28. He was a dentist and just the thought of seeing him or being under the same roof creeped me out.
Sour Patch Kids. Instant salivation.
When a driver waiting to make a turn HONKS! HONKS! because the car in front isn’t turning, because there are pedestrians in the crosswalk with a WALK signal, I reflexively give a one-fingered salute. In my mind, the honker is saying “Run them over! Run them over!” :eek: Ironically, the driver is probably having a Pavlovian reaction to stopping when he has the green light. 
Well, there was this one time when the taste of a madeleine cake dipped in tea…
The sound of the guy in front of me at work starting to tell another horrible joke makes me want to smack him with a keyboard.
There are several perfumes that override my ability to reason.
When a woman wears any of these scents, I can refuse her nothing. Regardless of her looks, she automatically becomes attractive.
Garlic frying in good olive oil instantly transports back to my grandmothers kitchen 40 years ago.
I had to look this up and DAMN do I want to make it now 
Can you put boiled potatoes in it or is that a sin?
It’s not my Pavlovian reaction, but I have to tell this. My roommate in college was taught about the Pavlovian reaction by a demonstration. The teacher had them eat a sour candy every time he said the word Pavlov. Eventually, the word Pavlov would make them salivate.
I find that just remembering that story makes me salivate every time someone mentions Pavlov. I’m not sure what type of reaction that is. It’s not quite learned, I don’t think, as I was never taught. It’s just the memory of the story associated Pavlov with salivating.
In college my roommates and I had this orange-scented deodorant spray that was for masking marijuana odor (it worked). To this day, any time I get the faintest whiff of a synthetic orange scent, it takes my lizard brain a second to realize that I’m not actually about to get high.
This is weird: for some reason, the anticipation of pain or something unpleasant kicks my salivary glands into overdrive. I’ve never heard of anyone else having this. The only consequence seems to be that I keep dental assistants very busy.
“Jesus, it’s like a swamp in there.”
Whatever, just shut up and crank the nitrous, please.
Now that’s a thought that’s gonna fester…
Can you summarise it?
They would almost have to, given that the source text is roughly 9 million pages long.
When I was in an unhealthy relationship as a teenager my then-bf and all his loser friends used to smoke pot in our house (against my wishes.) For YEARS the smell of pot gave me flashbacks of being angry, hurt and frustrated. Until 10 years later when a neighbour moved in below my apartment who smoked pot in his house and the smell of course would seep into mine. (150 year old building.) He was a great guy and adored me and we would have coffee every Sunday morning. Now the smell of pot makes me think of Ronnie and those happy times.
Radio, TV, CD, doesn’t matter…
The sound of Ringo Starr’s speaking voice always brings a hint of a grin to my face, and gives me a gentle little surge of warm fuzziness.
(I was a teenager in the 60’s.)
When I was little, every Saturday we’d go swimming with my cousins, and buy fish 'n chips on the way home.
This effectively makes swimming useless for weight loss for me.