Last week I saw a commercial on TV for Antonio Banderas's new fragrance, "Mediterraneo." I don't remember much about the commercial, except it was dark and it was full of Latin passion and it was, how do you say. . . . . ah yes -- a commercial.

I usually give attention to only two types of commercials, those for hamburgers and those for Victoria's Secret. All else, I ignore. But this commercial was special. It inspired me. Not in the way Mitch Albom books inspire people, mind you (I'm gonna make a difference!), but more like the way little white kids do (I'm gonna snort an earthworm!).

An inspiration, nonetheless.

Yes, I decided I was going to turn a negative into a positive. I decided I was going to take Antonio Banderas lemons and make Antonio Banderas lemonade. I decided this cologne would be a good gift idea for Christmas, I guess, would be the central theme of this particular paragraph.

In case you aren't one of my four or five friends, I should let you know that the gifts I buy for friends usually have three requirements:

1. They should be useless.
2. They should be a source of embarrassment if sighted by other people.
3. The idea behind it should make fun of pseudo celebrities.

(There's a self-deprecating joke there somewhere.)

Actually, I only got "Mediterraneo" for one friend, Elvin, which is fitting I suppose, since El's probably the only guy in our group who, like myself, appreciates the quintessence of Antonio Banderas. All of my friends are heartless bastards without souls; El's a heartless bastard without a soul who also happens to laugh at the mere sight or mention of Antonio Banderas. He ranks this one line from "Assassins" as one of his all-time favorites: the one where Antonio Banderas goes, "F*CK, SH*T, MOTHERF*CKER! F*CK, SH*T, MOTHERF*CKER!" for like 30 seconds straight, but it sounds like "FACK, SHEET, MOTHERFACKER! FACK, SHEET, MOTHERFACKER!" because he's Antonio Banderas, and he has a funny accent.

(See, you're not laughing, and that's because you don't understand the quintessence of Antonio Banderas.)

A few years back, we went to watch "Once Upon A Time In Mexico" the week it came out in the theatres, not because we thought it'd be a good movie, but precisely because we knew it would be a bad one. A comedically bad one. Of course, Antonio Banderas didn't disappoint, and I guess that's what makes him a bad actor. In a good way. A delightful way.

I don't know, it could have been a good movie -- maybe -- it's just that Antonio Banderas played the main character. It's like, I don't know anything about politics, and it's possible that Arnold Schwarzenegger is a competent governor. It's just that he's Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Anyways, so El calls a few days ago, and he tells me he got this package in the mail from some Chinese dude named Mao Kwan or something. That's the guy I bought the cologne from on eBay. El pointed out to me that "on the return address, he wrote that he's from Hacienda Height. Not Hacienda Heights. Hacienda Height."

(Giggling uncontrollably, or as they say on the internet, LMAO.)

So what's it smell like, I ask. Does it smell alright?

"Uhhh, it sorta smells like Spanish musk. You know, that Spanish musk."

Nice.

Maybe I should feel a little bad about giving him this gift. I doubt El will ever use Mediterraneo. . . . I mean, except, of course, if he decides to dress as Desperado next Halloween. Imagine the embarrassment he'd experience if someone asks him what scent he's wearing.

"Mediterraneo," he'd have to respond. "By Antonio Banderas."

(Actually, that's not embarrassing at all, El. You should definitely spray it on in copious amounts so people will ask you what scent you're wearing.

Or, if you think twice about it, maybe you could hang it on your rear view mirror, like sexy air-freshener.)

Anyways, Merry X-Mas, everyone. Or, as the folks at McDonald's might put it -- MXM.