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Sarcasm Aside

random thoughts of a self-diagnosed neurotic with the attention span of a five-year old... a blog by Alternati

My Stay at Potter's Bed and Breakfast

Friday, September 08, 2006



B & Blog Guest

I welcome The Chad. The Chad is from Oregon but grew up in Michigan. He is really blunt and uber hilarious. He's got an amazing 500+ DVD collection. (Anyone who watches that many movies is a buddy in my book) He has two dogs, Kaeo (I had trouble pronouncing it) who is a German Shepherd - Pit Bull Mix and Fezgig, a chihuahua seen in the pic (left)

The Chad owns the name, despite a certain unreliable claim that says otherwise. I'm a few days late introducing my tenant, my apologies. Check out his blog, link at the right sidebar.


DC Episode 312: A Weekend in the Country


Jen: God, it smells good in here.
Grams: Hickory burning in the hearth, smells like 46 years of my life.
Dawson: They say that smell is the most powerful sense of recall that we have. It can bring back all kinds of buried experiences.
Gale: Vanilla.
Mitch: Still?
Gale: Every time I smell it... Your Father worked in a restaurant when we first started dating...
Mitch: The Franklin Family Fish House.
Gale: And every night after work, when he would come to pick me up, he always smelled like vanilla.
Mitch: Well, I used to soak my hands in it to, uhh, alleviate the smell of the cod.

Dawson: Phenylene diamine. It's the main chemical used to process film, might've been the first time I ever opened a film canister. It's an intense smell. A
t the time, it smelled like possibility.
Jen: Mothballs. I love the smell of mothballs. No, when class would get out at the Chapin's School in New York, um, there was this old storage room in the back of the auditorium that the drama club used to keep all their costumes and props in. God, I would spend hours in there hiding under Guinevere's skirt, wrapped in Lady Macbeth's cloak. It always seemed like, no matter what had happened or how bad the day had been or how much I thought I was falling apart, there was nothing that could get to me in there.
Jack: Kickapoo juice. It was this grape juice, and they used to hand out a cup of it at the end of every day at summer camp. And the owner of the camp, Mr. A, gave it that stupid name. We all knew it was Hi-C.
Pacey: This might sound a little goofy, but do you think it's actually possible to smell snow?
Mitch: Absolutely.
Pacey: Well, that's my first memory, then. I don't know, I was maybe two or three years old. I just distinctly remember getting up on my tippy toes so I could look through this half open window at the snow falling down on the frozen creek, and eve
rything just blanketed in stillness.
Andie: New car. We'd go on these family trips, and dad would always request a brand new rental car. And I guess, um, that smell just reminds me of all of us traveling together down some big open highway.
Joey: Bacon. Sizzling, crackling, wafting into my bedroom while I was still asleep, starting in my dreams and coaxing me into awake.
Bessie: I know that smell.
Joey: Mom.

Bessie: Yeah.
Joey: See, every Sunday when she didn't have to work, she would make breakfast. And I would find my way down the hallway and stand next to her by the stove. And we would talk about school, and boys, and we'd take the pancake batter and pour it into tiny molds shaped like pine trees and animals. My Mom always loved to cook and take care of everyone, and hated working at that bar every night. She always told me not to
worry, because eventually she was going to make enough money and she was going to open up her very own, um, her very own Bed and Breakfast. She obviously didn't get the chance to see that dream happen, so I thought I would give it a shot. So, thank you everyone for coming and helping us. You're the best fake guests a girl could ask for. But really, you can all go home now.


That was a segment of an episode from Dawson's Creek. Full transcript here. After doing the Suri post yesterday, I remembered how much I loved that show (Shoot me now please). I remembered loving that episode because all the main characters were in a single scene and each "favorite scent" showed the idiosynchrasies of each of the characters.

It was an age defined by naivete. If I watched episodes of it now I'd be amused a little and gagging alot, as much as I would if I scanned through photographs and letters of and by myself during that time. Hahaha... what was I thinking wearing that? What did I ever like in him? What the hell was I thinking?? Knowing more and knowing better isn't always fun. I wish I still liked Dawson's Creek.



Olfactory Memories

Although I don't eat them anymore (except tofu ones... ullk), I love the smell of hamburgers. It reminds me of the way my mom smelled when I hugged her everytime she came home from work when I was a kid. She worked then at the CJH Mile-Hi and the smell of the yummy burgers they had clung to her clothes.

Victoria's Secret Pear Lotion reminds me of the time SV2G spent in Europe. I made myself stop using the lotion when the trip ended. That way, everytime I smell that scent, I instantly think of Kurfurstendamm or the Sans Soucci Castle or Koenigstrasse or Champs Elysees.

I love the smell of new shoes, especially the first Chuck Taylors I bought with my own money.

The smell of my dad's extra hot Kaldereta coming from the kitchen.

The smell of my newborn niece's mouth.

The smell of my newborn nephew's mouth.

The very strong lemon scented air freshener of our family car when I was a kid. Especially on trips to Bulacan for the Holy Week.

Jovan Musk, Tommy Hilfiger, salt in the air at the beach, lilacs, freshly laundered clothes, Butterfingers... from failed relationships... *sigh*... It's when memories like these are awakened that I'd want to have my vorneronasal organ removed, A tip I got from Ashley Judd in Someone Like You. That would mean less hours depressive binge-eating, less mushy god-forsaken sentimental songs, less Sleepless in Seattle, et al. But if that meant losing all the other olfactory memories I have... then just pass me the ice cream and put Meg and Tom on the player again.


Photo Credit
Dawson's Creek Screencaps
The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali

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Multi-Million Dollar Babies
In a Fishbowl
TAG! I'm it!
Baguio Day
Taxi Driver
Fishy Fingerprints and a Broken Cat
Pinatubo, Pulag and Apo
Oh my gawd! They killed Denny!
Running (Barely) on 28 kbps
Of Mouseholes and Mozzarella Cheese


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