Kotex brand Deodorant Pantiliners smell like Tinker Bell perfume. Unused, anyway.

I've never smelled Tinker Bell perfume-- it is, in fact, some relic of my sister's long past, from before I was born, and, as smells often are, it is the root of a strong memory in the yet unscarred region of her deeply disturbed psyche. The reason I know what it smells like is not because of some strange psychic link between us-- though, at times, I believe one may exist, though faintly, as I have flashes of memories of things that in fact happened to her, rather than me. The reason I know what Tinker Bell perfume smells like is that, my whole life long, anytime something smelled like Tinker Bell perfume, she would announce it, and force me to smell.

Truth be told, I'm not even really sure what it is. I assume it's something my parents bought for her at Disneyland when they lived in California. But I could be way off base.


Emily and I are talking about Max B. (B-L., technically), a guy we used to stalk together-- I am currently downloading ICQ, in attempt to contact him.

FieryGwenivere: I'm downloading ICQ. I'm a loser.
InfiniteAaah: yeeeeah
FieryGwenivere: But my willingness to be one is one of my best character traits!
FieryGwenivere: I, uh, hope.

I've written about Max on here a few times, I believe-- at one time, he was a person whom I attributed, God, a hell of a lot to. For years of my life, whenever anything good happened to me, I'd stop in the moment and silently thank him, as he was the only one who made a point to notice (and get me through, intact) when I was going through one of my earlier suicide phases-- I, perhaps, stopped doing this when I started owing the same debt of gratitude to too many others, or maybe it was about the time I just stopped having gratitude altogether. But I've never stopped thinking of him as a shining example of what I would want to be, if I still had the faith that I could grow to be at all in his league-- this is a sentiment enhanced by the fact, which Emily has just uncovered, that he is working with the Portland Stage Company-- he acted in High School, it's how I met him, and he's acting now. He's one of those people who became what they wanted to become. Let's take a moment for that.

I was in love with Max during a period of my life when I was starving for someone to be in love with, but as I got to know him-- his kindness, his intelligence, his understated grace, well, it wouldn't have mattered. There was speculation that he had feelings for me, but as much as I wanted to believe that, I was fairly sure then and am now that he was just kind. That one deserves a moment, too. Kindness. Christ.

I think almost every blog entry that he's been mentioned in has become an ode to him, towards the end-- once I start writing about him, it moves me to breath a little bit slower, and feel a little bit more nostalgic than normal (which seems hardly possible, given the girl in question), and feel, in equal parts the relief I have just to know there are people like that who exist in this world, and regret for the ramifications that I knew him, personally, somewhat well, and let him drift away. How much different, and inevitably better, would my life have been if he had allowed me to be a bigger part of his life, and would he have? If I'd been in a position in my life to see the value of platonic relationships (like I hypothetically will be in, oh, say twenty more years), perhaps I wouldn't have made such an idiot of myself over an amazing boy, and fallen in love with him, as falling in love is the currency of idiots.

Then again, if there was ever anyone worth making an idiot of oneself over, ever anyone worthy of falling in love with (and in love with again, every time you stop to think of him), then it's him.


I hope you all have someone like that in your life. And I hope every Max out there has someone to write them little odes that they'll never read, but will somehow matter. I hope.

Oh, and I hope you all experience the smell of Tinker Bell perfume, or at least Kotex pantiliners; it's really quite pleasant. On with it.

The stranglehold that a phantom site had on my god-given domain name has seemingly ended-- if I am correct, soon SuedeCaramel.com will once again be mine, and lead you, my good people, here.


So, some thoughts.

While American Express is currently advertising with celebrities like Ellen Degeneres and Robert Deniro (with the creative help of Martin Scorsese and Annie Leibovitz), Discover is contrasting with a line of commercials featuring extremely relatable average people-- have you seen these? Black and white, just the person standing there, talking about their life, saying things so cute and suburban that it just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside-- "I helped put my husband through dental school, and now I get my teeth cleaned for free." (Big smile.) Or "I still open doors for my wife, because she deserves it." These are the "average americans", the decent, traditional people with a strong work ethic and perfect credit.

If these are average Americans, I'm in biiiig trouble.

Discover is trying too hard to show us likable, relatable customers-- as a result, these people are to ethics and decency what Cindy Crawford is to aesthetics and ass. I'll never look like her and I'll never be like them-- let's get realistic, Discover, if that's what you're going for! Let's get people saying *real* everyday things. Replace the lady who says "I still get goosebumps when (my husband) kisses my neck" with "I still get goosebumps when (my lover) pinches my ass and calls me 'Mommy'." And the guy who says "I'd like to use (the cashback bonus awards) for a table saw, but I have a feeling it's going towards a new dishwasher" with "I'd like to use the money towards a new Colt 45, but I have a feeling it's going towards Bail."

This is my America. On with it.