Tuesday, August 11, 2009

My To Do List... Courtesy of Dove.

I've made it a point to read the inside of every single Dove chocolate wrapper I come in contact with, after getting one, in a Valentine's Day Edition (with heart-shaped candies), that read, "Chocolate always loves you back."
Were I to make a list of things to do today based upon these wrappers, here is what it would read:

1. Share an embarrassing moment with a friend.
2. Curl up in the sun and take a catnap.
3. Hug a friend today.
4. Seek out small indulgences for myself.
5. Listen to the wind.
6. Call a friend and set a date together.
7. Be inquisitive. Find out something new.
8. Make a date with my favorite book tonight.
9. Push myself to do one thing a week outside my comfort zone.
10. Seize the day.
11. Go confidently in the direction of my dreams.
12. Think without limits.
And, lastly, and most importantly:
13. Enjoy the pure indulgence of DOVE.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Dear Pal, At Least You're Not This Guy

I'm gonna change it up today, due in part to disheartening evidence that there are blogs all over this damned internet with the same pictures. Blogging is truly the Reality TV of the internet.

Anyway, this is an old postcard.

Who would look at this unhappy, obese man and think, "Golly gee! This would be the perfect card to send a friend of mine!"

...I did. I sent this via email to someone.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

At Least Lane Bryant's Being Honest.

I didn’t even notice the size numbers until a friend pointed it out – I take it to mean that you're only half a woman if you're a "chubby." Not a “chubby girl” or even a “chubbette.” They're all lumped (pardon the phrase) under a completely sexless monicker which when pluralized sounds like fuzzy, big-eyed characters that would have romped around cartoon forests in the 80s. Possibly advertising candy.
They could have put in more effort with this girl. Her waist is a bit thick and I think I see a double chin, but appendagewise, come on.
I like how “regular sizes” is in quotation marks. You can just hear the stick-thin saleslady saying that in a stage whisper that with a painfully fake wink to Chubby And Mother.
Call me harsh, but I appreciate how up front they are here. You’re too chubby to fit into “regular sizes." They’re not passing judgement here; just stating it. Even "regular" is relative here (those shrewd, double-duty quotation marks.)
Nowadays you’re PLUS something or EXTRA something – but it’s for now.
Until you come to your senses and realize that Plus and Extra still mean Chubby, and that you need to save yourself before you go the way of Keirstie Alley.
Based upon this ad and my viewing of Hairspray (all three), I can only surmise that this was the Chubbie coiffure of choice. I guess the flip outs draw the eye away from the hips. Or would that make it worse?

Monday, August 3, 2009

NOBODY Puts Baby in the Most Blatantly Inappropriate Ad Of All Time!

For anyone who has ever lain awake nights wondering what Jon Benet Ramsey would look like with Jennifer Grey's hair: Fret no more. Your torment is over.
Who would EVER think that this ad would be okay under ANY circumstances? And who decided to run it?
This must have been the kickoff for the Stranger Danger movement that continues to haunt the subconcious of my generation.
Also, dig that glint in her eye. She's not that innocent.

The Creepiest Ad in All The Land

While the inanimate object moved by some invisible force – or acting on its own accord – carving a possibly retarded cow in the last one was frightening, I believe it is trumped by this gem because:

A. Babe here is practically committing hari-kari in order to make sausages. Unlike the last ad, there is no room to fabricate that perhaps he was a dull-witted victim of a bloodthirsty poltergeist who chose to accept his fate happily. This fellow is actually inflicting the pain upon himself, either voluntarily or by truly heartless force.

B. He is standing on more sausage, clearly too large to have come from him. Do the French want us to think that a giant pig had done the same thing moments before? Perhaps he went first to make an altar for a self-sacrificing pig ritual.

C. Recall the cow’s suspiciously but inarguably blissful expression. Now observe the pig. He appears happy at first glance, but upon further study, he seems to wear a grimace of almost surprise. “Gee, I didn’t know it’d hurt this bad – but doing the right thing feels SO GOOD.” In case I need to spell it out at this point, the twisted mixture of pleasure and strain is one most commonly associated with orgasm.

D. There is writing on this ad, which is in French. Not that the French are creepy. It’s just that the writing makes it even more terrifying, because it gives this a context. The cow was an open canvas (for lack of less crude wording); unfettered by any text, it allowed you to make your own associations as to what was going on. But this pig has a backstory. Some French person was not only able to justify this ad campaign, but expected you, the consumer (in more ways than one) to make perfect sense of it too. The fact that it is in a language I do not speak makes it that much more creepy. It’s like when the Pepsi dent-White explorer machetes his way through the dense island plants, only to find himself in a clearing of top-knotted, half-clothed “natives” with lanced nostrils, chattering away in their barbaric tongue; something bad is going to happen to him. He just doesn’t know what.

E. A friend with knowledge of the French language kindly provided a rough translation of this ad for me:
One eats with pleasure and...without fatigue:Auvergne Sausage--Absolute Dietary PurityThe good sausages of the prodigious pig !

A visit to dictionary.com (I’m a blogger now, and therefore have the right to refrain from consulting any actual text) provided me with the meaning of prodigious. Pay special attention to number three, if you please.
1. extraordinary in size, amount, extent, degree, force, etc.: a prodigious research grant.

2.wonderful or marvelous: a prodigious feat.

3. abnormal; monstrous.

“Enjoy, with gusto, the hindquarters of a sadomasochistic mutant swine!”
I was trying to be politically correct before, but now you gotta admit: those French are fucked up.

Sunday, August 2, 2009


This one brings up that age old philosophical question: If you knew an animal had been slaughtered willingly, even gleefully, would you consume it?
The ad geniuses behind this one probably thought they'd stopped vegetarianism in its dirty hippie tracks, but my answer to that great philosophical question would be no. If I ate this cow, it'd probably give me The Disease. (Remember that one?) Look at that tongue. Mad to the bone. Or to the flank. Which should be visible aaaany second now.
Speaking of which, what happened to the cow’s hindlegs? There are no gaping wounds to indicate their amputation, unless that’s not cow prep protocol. I don’t know much about such things.
And who – or WHAT – is on the other end of that knife?

I've Decided To Try Out This New Fangled Thing They Call "Organization"

I've decided to try out this new-fangled thing they call "organization." Meaning from now on, my entries shall be categorized! These categories may not make sense, or may be tenuous enough to the point of almost not existing, but it's the thought that count. (Say Tarzan. Or Typo-Meg.)