Ad Nauseum? Funny.

I am glad that I live in the modern era that we enjoy today.  I get the reap the benefits of other people's innovations and the convenience that they bring.

For example, I now watch television almost exclusively on Netflix (it's eight bucks a month, people, get on board) or off my PVR (expensive hit at first, but I don't know how we lived before).  This means that I no longer watch stuff just to fill time until what I really want to watch is on, and it also means that I view FAR less commercials.  Those commercials that I do watch are usually in fast forward.

When I'm out of town, or not paying attention, or watching a live event that would be ruined if I waited to watch it, I see commercials like in the "olden days".

You know what's a super weird word?  "Olden".

 

Television advertisements seem to all operate on the premise that the average viewer is a complete and utter moron, who has no idea how to accomplish any task of any kind at any time without total guidance and a lot of product purchasing.

I don't know who this poor sap John is, but someone thinks he's pretty stupid.

The people who write commercials also seem to think that we soil ourselves really, really regularly, in all sorts of fairly colourful ways.  For example, this:

 

 That's not what happens.

Or this:

  

Get it?  His tide to go pen leaked.  And made him clean.

 

Or this:

Ever wonder where his hat went?  Yeah, me too.

It all makes me want to act precisely as the people in the ads do- like doorknobs who are saved from their otherwise horrible life by some magical product that solves everything.

I WILL spill beet juice all over myself, wander around a trade show and appear to be a murderer (have you seen that one??  The guy is wearing a butcher apron and the resolve bimbos wash him clean, he claims he's covered in beet juice but I'm pretty sure that they have just concealed important evidence).

I WILL be embarrassed by my heaving, exposed bosom and regain my dignity by wearing a tiny scrap of fabric instead of a properly fitting shirt.

PS. This looks like a set of tiny thong underwear for men.

I WILL wander into a room full of rotting corpses and exclaim that in fact, it DOES smell like a spring breeze!  If I was walking though a field next to a slaughterhouse on a hot day while carrying a bag of untreated manure!

Who would DO this?  Put a strange object up to your nose and inhale deeply...sounds like a recipe for chloroform-induced coma.

There are a lot of claims out there about the power of advertising.  I tend to think that generally speaking, commercials that pander to me like I'm a brainless sack of crap make me AVOID the products they are hawking.  I know that I've seen ads that have made me boycott brands entirely.

I never bought any of this garbage before, but I certainly won't be tempted given the marketing strategies of this particular company.

Anyway, I just think it would be funny if we acted like the consumers in ads do...fighting over dishwasher detergent...yelling at the KFC guy...touching other people's laundry on the street....  But I have to say that my life energy is better spent getting right to the quality programming I have prerecorded for my viewing pleasure.

Moral of this story:

On the right: Abercrombie CEO.  He says ugly people shouldn't wear his clothes.  Fat people neither.

It is truly outstanding that by chance, in the wonderful world of google searching, I managed to sneak in two LOR related memes in a post about television commercials.  Nice one, interwebs.

Gettin' Crafty? Funny.

This episode brought to you by: LAZINESS. I can't be bothered to get up and retrieve my computer, which is as much as twenty steps away (several of them stairs), so I'll take the easy route and type this on my phone. Wait...what?
This will result in you being deprived of many of the more interesting and humorous aspects of this blog- boldface font, different type sizes....stolen images from the Internet...nothing like a little plagiarism to delight the senses, eh?
WELL NOT TODAY, friends. No. Instead, you will be treated to an ill-spelled, oddly punctuated and PICTURELESS entry, riddled with the occasional gratuitous use of CAPS LOCK.

It's a bit funny to say that I'm being lazy in this entry (it's a bit funny...isn't that the point?), since this tiny touch screen typing is really pretty time consuming, but also because I am going to tell you about a rather tedious, but also fun, activity that I participate in with some friends.

We engage in craft night every few weeks. We paint, build and cross-stitch. We drink tea and chit chat. We make many jokes about elderly people, most of them having something to do with how damned hard cross-stitch is on the eyes and fingers and what the HELL are old people thinking???

Craft night is not just enjoyable time spent with good friends. It's also a place ripe with hilarious potential.

I've started to make many of my gifts for people. Given my level of skill in most crafts (beginner, with a side of apathy and a healthy serving of attention deficit), this is already funny. I once painted a picture for a wedding present. It was a real dickhead thing to do- for one, I'm not great at painting. Two, they certainly didn't put "crappy half-ass painting" on their registry. Three, in my head, it was going to be really nice. When it wasn't (big effing surprise), I didn't do the right thing and get them a nice set of towels; I gave it to them anyway. Along with an apologetic safeway gift card.

That, in itself, is only sort of funny. It's more jerky than funny.

What was funny was when that couple came to our wedding, and gave us a gift (which we still have, mind you- one step above my shitty painting, I'm sure) which came with a warning that it has the potential to burn our house to the ground. I think the message was fairly clear...I gave them a terrible painting, and they gave us a paperweight thing that could kill us. I deserved exactly that present- well played.

I'm a little more focused these days and the quality of my handmade "goods" (averages? mediocres?) has improved to the point that I'm not terribly ashamed. But I'm by no means an expert, so there's certainly still the "Handmade by Heather" special touch in all of them, and I don't pass up opportunities to infuse my idea of humour into them, too.

So if, perchance, your birthday approaches, or your second anniversary, or some other worthy event- and I like you enough to A) know about it and B) care, you just might find yourself the proud new owner of a swell cross-stitch bookmark with your face on it.

Isn't that nice?

Moral of this story: If I come to your wedding, and I bring you anything other than an envelope, I apologize...but the crafting bug bit me and the only cure is more shit painting.