deodorant raze when you were a kid, grownups probably told you a mosquito bite would stop troubling you if you didn't scratch at it. not that i've been attacked by many mosquitoes in recent years, but i did find out later in life that there's some truth to this. if you can ignore the itch, those little raised red hellions of flesh will disappear with surprising haste. sometimes not scratching is easier said than done, though. especially when there's more than one mosquito bite to contend with. you know what helps? deodorant. i didn't believe it at first. but i tried it. and it worked. you take some lady speed stick, or b.o.-be-gone, or whatever your brand of choice is, you rub a little over the offensive area(s), and the better part of the itching goes away almost at once — not forever, but long enough to give you some real relief. i think it's the aluminum in the deodorant that acts as an itch suppressant. bonus points for smelling good in unexpected places. 140608 ... flowerock calamine tea_tree_oil witch_hazel peppermint_oil ice will also help. Deodorant_scares_me Deodorant_makes_me_gag bleh I stink GOOD 140609 ... epitome of incomprehensibility This reminds me of a conversation I had with my friend J. when we were teenagers. For some reason I was trying to think of what I'd say to an assassin to convince him/her not to kill me. I didn't (don't) have children, I couldn't think of anything great that I'd accomplished... so what came to mind was: "Don't kill me! I use an environmentally friendly deodorant!" (Still do - the salt crystal type. Which works for making me smell less like sweat, but salt makes cuts sting, so I guess it wouldn't work in r's scenario.) Also, Old Spice doesn't smell remotely masculine to me. That's not a bad thing, but I think it's because of the cinnamon. I associate cinnamon with sweetness, and my silly culture's conditioned me to think sweetness = femininity. 140610 ... kerry i still have a roll-on stick of nivea deodorant that i bought on the last morning of my trip to iceland when i was traveling with joy several years ago. i don't use it often, randomly/sporadically/circumstances i can't think of at the moment because it is actually anti-perspirant only (and i didn't want my blathe to be called anti-perspirant) and if you're going to use anti-perspirant with aluminum and whatnot--and i think the jury's still out on that anyway--why not just add some deodorant? just a little? like all nivea products the container is a very tasteful nautical blue. the roller ball is cold. when i do use it i always have this funny image in my head of the woman who sold it to me. joy had left earlier that morning to fly home to california and i had the whole day to kill before my flight to oregon. we'd stayed in the same place where we'd slept our first night, in a little square house in a suburb of reykjavik where the airport is actually located. i don't remember the name and don't feel like looking it up now. i had so much time to kill that i went to the local pool. i think this may be common across iceland but in that area the pool is kind of a hub for the locals. i am not a pool person but i thought hey, it's cold out, this is What the People Do, let's have an Authentic Icelandic Suburban Experience. i went there and i sat in the steaming hot water, changing from pool to pool as they were different temperatures, and people-watched. everyone was there, everyone was socializing. old men, old women, kids, their parents, every type of person. some were alone and some were deep in conversation and some were just jumping off the diving board and then getting out of the pool and back in line for the diving board. after i was all shriveled up and my fingertips had turned to raisins i went to the locker room and got dressed and stood in front of the mirror drying my hair alongside the other local women. all of us drying our hair pink-cheeked and fresh. and i realized i had no deodorant--i'd run out the day before and forgotten to buy any. on the way back to the little square house i stopped at a pharmacy on the main street and bought a pack of hair ties and i couldn't find any deodorant so i had to ask the woman behind the counter. when i was paying (so much money!) for my items she handed them to me with this huge smile, like the deodorant (ahem, anti-perspirant) was a gift and she felt honored to be the one to put it in my hands. she looked so fucking happy. i suppose it has become kind of a souvenir. so anyway. whenever i use it, i wonder when it will finally run out and how i'll feel about tossing it in the garbage, and i think of this pretty woman's face and writing this down now i'm wondering if i will even be able to hold onto that memory--her face and its joyous expression. i doubt it. 221128 what's it to you? who go blather from