Back in the day when I was a tween (the awkward ages of like 8 to 12), the world was a different place.
I spent my days sending fan letters to Nsync, lip syncing the Lizzie McGuire soundtrack in my bedroom mirror, and taping Aaron Carter posters to my ceiling so I could start planning our wedding as I went to sleep. Because I seriously thought Aaron Carter and I were going to date or something. Like, what 13 year-old male pop star wouldn’t be into hanging out with a 9 year-old girl who watched Full House and ate microwaveable chicken nuggets after school every day? I was really cool. How could I resist this charmer though? AND he was on DISNEY CHANNEL. The full package…
This we before he went to rehab and what not.
Then after he hit puberty he ended up looking like this:
Ehhheewwbleeehh.. Who’d have thought? Certainly not me. I’m sorry if that image was scary for some of you. Anyway, I decided at this point I could do better and left Aaron to embark upon his reality tv show career. Which ended up going really well since I heard he totally choked on Dancing With the Stars and cried after he got eliminated.
I don’t know. Whatever.
Anyway, what is UP with this Justin Bieber kid?
He’s annoying and somehow has become a phenomenon. I bet Miley Cyrus had something to do with this… Anyway he’s like 50 times more popular than Aaron Carter ever was and, in my opinion, 50 times more annoying. And he has possibly the same amount of talent as Aaron Carter–which is none.
Aaron Carter only wishes he was as cool as this Bieber kid is now. If you’re bored, watch this – Bieber Fever takes over:
You know what I don’t like though? Watching ESPN allll freaking day.
Seriously. If I have to watch ANY more male-focused advertising, I’m going to change the channel to WE (Women Entertainment Network) and let everyone be graced with Nuva Ring and Tampax commercials. We’ll see how much everyone likes that.
I actually might not do that.
Cause I might get fired.
I’ve thought about it though…
Actually, in case you all wanted to know, I’m writing this at work. I just looked up and was subjected to yet another Axe commercial; some girl ripping off some guy’s clothes. Typical. Since when did that ever happen? My brother’s worn Axe before and I think I’ve only seen girls run away from him.
Now I’m watching a segment on Top 10 greatest touchdown dances. As you might have guessed, it’s very intellectually stimulating. I’m pretty sure I just watched a 400 lb man use an invisible lasso to reel in a player half his size. My brain is rotting…
*Fast forward to like 22 seconds.
See what I mean?
I’ve made failed attempts to sneak the national news on but someone always has to ruin my life and be like “Hey I think the game’s on blah blah channel” and I’m like “hey I think the game’s on channel Get-Out-Of-My-Pro-Shop, you idiot.”
…actually I don’t say that.
but it makes me feel rebellious and cool to pretend I do.
Technically I have no right to care that people want to watch ESPN in a pro shop. Actually, it makes a lot of sense that people do watch ESPN in a pro shop, but I just need to release my frustrations. Ya know?
The scene:
All-girls school. Week before spring break. KCMO.
The buzz:
swim suits. travel dates. money. tanning packages.
the diet:
rice cakes? vegetable chips? bread crust?
Sick.
This is a travesty. STA was founded on eating; you people are betraying our legacy. Lunch table attendance is down at least 80%. And the people who do show up usually just chug a Diet Coke like its their job.
Rice cakes suck. They’re a variation of cardboard. You all know it.
and unless you’re dousing them in chocolate and peanut butter, then I don’t want them in my presence. They’re making my Lays potato chips feel violated.
In closing,
will someone PLLLLLEASE come to lunch this week?! It should be a good time.
I’ve been wanting to comment on these commercials forever but still haven’t made up my mind on them.
Brinks Home Security.
Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. The stereotypical commercials in which a clean-cut yet psychopathic male breaks into an innocent damsel’s house, upon where she screams and then answers the phone to heroic male operators usually named Andy or Rick from Brinks Home Security headquarters. These Andy and Rick characters sit behind an office desk with a Backstreet Boy’s old headset and are willing to minimize their game of Windows Solitaire when your house alarm is going loco. From there, Andy and Rick promise to notify the police while you chillax at yo house with a burgular. But of course by this time Brinks Home Security system would have surely scared them away. Now, I don’t have anything against security systems; they’re pretty James Bond if you ask me. But as far as I can tell, Brinks Home Security commercials are basically like a Kay Jewelers commercial gone wrong. See for yourself. Watch like the first half of this commercial-melodrama:
See what I mean? Are you supposed to laugh or be scared?
The actors, the script - so cheesy, I laugh…….but also mildly traumatizing….?…..not sure how to feel right now….
In general though,
I laugh.
Maybe advertisers should just stick to good, old-fashioned brain washing. Does this ring a bell, anyone?:
Whoever made that commercial knew what was up.
If you’re interested, there’s also like a 30 second version of that. Just so you know. I know a lot of you probably want to see more of that.
When I’m like 90 years old and suffering from dimentia, I think “Head On: Apply directly to the forehead” could possibly be my dying words.
Depressing, but potentially true.
I don’t know, we’ll see. But seriously, Brinks Home Security – I can’t decide what I think about your commercials…
I’ve recently stumbled upon a jewel of a low-profit reality tv show…
It’s called Operation Repo and I want to get married to it.
Seriously, it is so pee-your-pants-worthy hilarious. It features a crew of freak show repo-people who hunt down other freak-show normal people who have failed to pay for their freakish belongings; these belongings are thus freakishly repossessed, hence the title of the show: Operation Repo. Obviously this is all documented by a camera crew in an exploitive fashion for the rest of America’s viewing pleasure, but I generally have a hard time feeling bad for most of the repo victims because they’re all so crazy.
Here’s the episode that got me hooked. This clip might be long but I literally thought I was going to suffocate I laughed so hard. Watch it. This guy legit thinks he is living Star Trek-
I can’t decide if he had me at “I am Spock” or “Please step away from my vessel.” So charming.
I want you all to know…there are some Creepy McCreepsters running the advertisement world. Beware of these monsters…and their creepy shenanigans.
You know this is true.
Seriously, think of all the bizarre commercials you see every day. I’m speaking namely of the ones that feature creepy iconic characters: Pillsbury Dough Boy, the Michelin Man, the Snuggle bear…All 100% frightening. Nothing not scary about them.
I’m telling you — you think that Pillsbury biscuit tastes good now, but just wait till that creepy little dough boy crawls up on your shoulder with a miniature dagger while you’re sleeping, threatening you to buy the new Pillsbury Classic Pizza Crust (“Pizza just the way you like it! Faster than take-out!”). Don’t listen to him. Fight the power. He just wants you to join his cause with the other creepy commercial characters.
Oh, puh-lease. Don’t let that doughy smile fool you. We know this “thing” is a deceptive menace–not to be trusted. NEVER TO BE TRUSTED
I think we can all agree that this is the Pillsbury Dough Boy’s alter-ego:
I feel an adverphobia panic attack coming on.
I’m not sure, however, if anything can be worse than the Snuggle Bear of the Snuggle Fabric Softners & Dryer Sheets corporation. This thing is a silent killer. This commercial might be old, but it’s the only way to show Snuggles’ true creepiness:
!!!!!!!!!!!
GET THAT THING AWAY FROM YOUR CHILD
Whoever filmed this should be tried for manslaughter. Snuggles willeat your newborn. He is not afraid. Seriously, advertisers? How do you take a teddy bear, an object that’s automatically cute by nature, and turn it into what appears to be a cold blooded killer. If I ever encounter this bear I will lock him in my dryer for eternity. Maybe if I’m feeling generous I’ll kick him a few of his “must-have” dryer sheets. See how he likes that.
Lastly, we all need to be more aware of the Michellin Man, the famous blob of (white?) tires who is slowly trying to take over the world. Don’t let his big and cuddly demeanor trick you. He is evil. Pure evil.
Ohh, no no no no no no NO. You come to tell me the Michelin Man has an accomplice now? A tire-dog friend (which we all know looks like a pathetic excuse for a marshmallow)? I will not stand for this. And how did he get his driver’s license?! I have friends (NORMAL people) who failed their driver’s tests like 3 times and you’re telling me this scary “it” gets to cruise around town, jamming to some tunes, with a tire-dog riding shotty? Heck no techno. I would run this playa off the road if we crossed paths.
No thanks, Michelin. I’ll continue buying my tires from Goodyear. At least their logo doesn’t give me nightmares.
as opposed to this beast:
Nightmares. Nightmares. Nightmares.
So sick. Someone needs to lock these guys up. Then I could finally rest easy at night.
I hope you all stay safe from these creatures. Remember to lock your doors and if you have bad dreams about them tonight, simply think of the M&M guys because they’re cute and I would totally be down to chill with them and bash on other commercial characters together.
Once upon a time I visited a foreign land far, far away…
In this land existed an alien life form; a kind of which I’ve never before seen. Words couldn’t describe my confusion. These things…these creatures—I just didn’t understand. They were tan, they were buff, they wore dog tags, they claimed to be distant cousins with Al Pacino, they talked about the Yankees and Gold’s Gym, they gelled their hair, they took their shirts off a staggering number of times, they rubbed oil all over themselves at the beach, they acted like they were from New York, they bragged about how their Uncle Tonys were asked to audition for The Sopranos, they flexed more than they breathed, they talked funny, they were a new type of species all on their own; they were the guidos of New Jersey. They had crawled out from their Italian flag patterned bedspreads and headed 400 miles south where I was, in the Outerbanks of North Carolina.
Now for all of you less informed readers, according to the Urban Dictionary, a guido is this: A sad pathetic excuse for a male; not necessarily of Italian descent, but most likely; usually native to the New York/New Jersey Tri-State area.
WARDROBE: tight zipper shirts, tracksuits, designer jeans, fuzzy kangol hats, tiny hoop earrings, fake gold chains, and related Euro-trash garb and tacky cheese-wear.
NATURAL HABITAT: Known to frequent Tri-State area malls looking for club gear to waste their week’s pay on (most likely spotted shopping at “Bang Bang” in Staten Island). During the day when not at their food delivery, telemarketting, or construction job, can be located at their local gym tanning or lifting weights. Can be found nightly at mainstream danceclubs they read about online (SF, Webster Hall, Etc.). Most notable for cruising the Jersey shore in an old car (Honda, Mustang, etc.) which has been tinted, painted and sports $1,000-$3,000 rims in a feeble attempt to look like new. Guido cars usually have a boomin’ system through which cheesy music like freestyle, commercial club/trance and hip-hop is loudly blasted.
GENETIC LINKS: Directly related to modern day urban-guidos. Urban-guidos are white males who once exhibited the traits referenced above, but have now instead opted to keep it unreal, with wardrobes consisting of clothes from labels like FUBU and Rocawear which they bought on sale at Macy’s. These individuals still listen to the same music and drive the same type of car as their predecessor; it is usually just their choice of attire and use of slang and poor speech skills that differentiate them from the classic guido. Most guidos are distrusting of non-whites despite the fact some of their attire and music can be traced to non-white origins.
PASSTIMES/RECREATIONAL ACTIVITIES: Guidos enjoy beating up others of the male species, assisted by a group of 5-10 guido friends backing them up. Additionally, they enjoy displaying their lack of rhythm by dancing poorly in the middle of a club’s dance floor while non-guidos look on in disbelief as they fist pump.
While a guidette is this: The female counterpart to the “Guido” specimen. Exclusive to North America, these creatures are usually of Italian-American decsent. A Guidette can be recognized by her orange skin color, similar to that of the common tangerine, and their either very light or very dark hair. Guidettes have an overly sexual demeanor, and will often emit high pitch shrieks to attract mates. A creature of habit, the Guidette will spend an excessive amount of time on her appearance, and will usually prefer to don very light lipstick by brands such as Ed Hardy, BeBe and Juicy Couture. Scientists believe they are very tolerant to chemical exposure, as Guidettes will use 3-4 cannisters of hairspray in one day alone.
I’ve visited North Carolina the past couple of summers for weeks at a time with a friend who has a beach house (holla at cha’ girl Chansen). We were endlessly bombarded by a variety Jersey characters. Don’t believe me? See for yourself:
**NOTE: THESE PHOTOS HAVE NOT BEEN ALTERED OR RETOUCHED
This is Dave in the Alpha Male pose. He resided across the street from our humble beach abode and we became vacation friends over time. We discovered he was a personal trainer, his grandma gave him those dog tags, and he likes meatball sandwiches. His number still sits in my cell phone contacts as “Joyzee Boy Dave.” He would want me to remind you that he is Italian as well.
And that’s just a sneak-shot of a Joyzee grandma at her finest.
Anyway, my days basking along the Outerbanks were long before the days of MTV’s Jersey Shore, but thanks to Jersey Shore the guido-culture is officially a phenomenon and I don’t have to feel bad about hanging out with Joyzee kids last summer. If you’ve been living under a rock all winter, this is what Jersey Shore is (and if you just want to laugh your face off, you should watch as well):
I’m addicted to tasteless, poor quality, reality television. I’ll be the first to admit it. But Jersey Shore just touched me on a whole new level. When I saw the commercials for it back in November, I knew that my life would forever be changed. The show premiered to a lackluster 1.4 million viewers, but after a season of fist-pumping, hair gel, techno music, hittin’ the bar (or in Joyzee, “the ba”), Escalades, and boardwalk assaults, the season finale worked its way up to 4.8 million, setting an all-time series record. Just take a look at these tacky ballas:
Speaking of the finale, I legitimately got teary eyed. I can’t believe it’s over. Jersey Shore was my better half. And now its reruns are only half of my better half.
I fantasize about season 2.
Despite the fact that all the guido roommates realize they’re currently MTV’s gold mine and are trying to gouge the network for some major pay raises. Whatever. I don’t really care. As long as they keep The Hills from invading my TiVo its all good.
Anyway, I love you Jersey Shore. Emmys anyone?
Peace, love, and Snookie
P.S. I don’t know who has the New Jersey license plates on the Honda Pilot in the parking lot, but I consider swooping them every time I walk by your car. I think they would look nice on my car. People would be jealous of me.
I have something deeply disturbing to tell you all…
I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I just haven’t had the nerve—didn’t want to let anyone down. It hurts me knowing what I did and for doing it, I am deeply regretful.
So, if you must know…
I saw New Moon
…on opening weekend
You’re probably wondering why this matters. Maybe because, if you haven’t heard me ranting about it before, I’m one of the hardcore, crusading Anti-Twilight radicals out there. Read book 1 a couple summers ago by the poolside; hated it, “accidentally” dropped it into the pool after the last chapter, told my mom the wind blew it in. Whatever, I don’t care. It deserved it. That was a fat 498 pages of nothing but vampire sexual tension and teenage angst. I seriously don’t get the hype behind it. Thanks for wasting my life, Twilight. I would have been better off reading Gossip Girl or going to a Jonas Brothers concert that fateful summer. Honestly, I think the Twilight Saga might be the stupidest fad to hit this planet since Furbys (or Hannah Montana). My other Anti-Twi friends are still disgraced I went to see this. But whatever. Don’t knock it till you try it.
Yeah. I tried it, so now I’m going to knock it.
It was as stupid as I thought it would be. To start with, I saw this movie with 3 of my other Anti-Twi friends. We laughed hysterically at every scene. And remember, this is opening weekend, with all the die hard fans. Honestly, I think people wanted to press charges against us for making a mockery of Twilight. All I know is we bolted out of the theatre before the credits rolled to avoid being assaulted by the ~**tWiLiGhT LuVrZ**~. But seriously, everything in this movie was dumb. I’m still not sure I understood the basic premise of the entire movie, but here’s the main observations I gathered: Jacob (the werewolf?) was shirtless in every scene. Edward (the vampire?) is pale. Bella (the normal human?) is totally into herself and spends the movie acting like her life is SO hard having to pick between hot guy #1 and hot guy #2. And then there’s just a bunch of other albino vampires and grizzly-bear-like werewolves running around. I remember asking my friend next to me if it would be inappropriate to throw my Slurpee at the screen out of frustration? You know a movie really sucks when you’re willing to throw a 7 dollar beverage as an act of defiance.
I honestly have nothing more to say than I hate Twilight.
I just want everyone to know right now that I’m currently listening to Christmas music as I write this. And I don’t care how much you dislike Christmas music this early. Go complain to some other Scrooge because I’m not going to listen. And if I do listen I’m just going to drown you out and brainwash you by seducing you with my famous ”Santa Baby” performance — no one can resist my hurry-down-the-chimney-tonights.
To be more specific, I’m listening to “Christmas Time Is Here” from A Charlie Brown Christmas Soundtrack.
Literally, I have tears welling up in my eyes right now because it makes me want to go ice skate (even though I’m pigeon-toed and physically cannot properly align my feet to ice skate:
…and it makes me want to go walk around Halls and look at Christmas ornaments and listen to a random guy play the piano with his eyes closed and buy an overpriced white chocolate mocha at Starbucks and drive around and look at Christmas lights while listening to Christmas music and watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation with my family and decorate the -
Eh, I’m sorry. My iTunes shuffle just so rudely interrupted my Christmas thoughts by switching songs from “Christmas Time Is Here” to 50 Cent’s “I’ve Got da Magic Stick.”
Back on track. Now I’m listening to “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” by Frank Sinatra. I love the classics (Dean Martin, Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, none of that Maroon 5/Ashley Tisdale/Celine Dion junk). Anyway, I can’t help but love the holiday season. Like on Halloween everyone’s all, “Happy Halloween!” and I’m screaming “TOMORROW IS CHRISTMAS-TIME!!!” and people are like “ok freak.” But I ignore their low spirits and bask in the happiness of Christmas-y Kay Jewelers and Pilsbury biscuit commercials.
Seriously, do not even ACT like this Wal-Mart commercial didn’t make you tear up a little:
If you overlook the fact that half of Wal-Mart’s products are created by children in sweatshops and let yourself pretend that Wal-Mart actually controls weather patterns, then that commercial has to make you get into the holiday spirit. Also, early holiday marketing makes me look forward to my married life…when this is what I can apparently expect to happen to me every Christmas:
Yeah totally normal for 2 a.m. on Christmas. Even though I’m still not entirely sure that baby’s real so I question the authenticity of the new watch….
One thing that does disappoint me this early holiday season however is the 2009 Holiday Barbie. So sad. So horrifying. See for yourself:
Barbie’s makeup is a TOTAL smear job. They’ve made her look like some wannabe Hannah Montana doll to hand out to your kids on Christmas (Note: Just another example of how Miley Cyrus is ruining the lives of so many).
Anyway, despite these minor mishaps, I love Christmas and you should too.
