Who Writes This Crap

Pun intended.

‘We all go. Why not enjoy the go?’

Hey Charmin, what were you guys thinking?

I am in the business. I am fully aware of the countless taglines submitted, the late nights getting silly around a conference table laden with candy, the absurd options that come out of these sessions and the painful layers of approvals.

I cannot help but think this one was a joke that somehow slipped into the pile and someone who was running out to catch a plane or go to a kid’s soccer game signed off on it without thinking.

Because, you know, even those of us who ‘enjoy the go’ – and believe me, I am one of them – know that this is just too absurd to be real. If you must know, bathroom humor and discussion of toileting has always been a favorite topic in my family. The joke is that it only takes about 15 minutes when we are all together before the discussion turns to… going. So if anyone would be the market for this, it would be us. But it sort of falls flat for me.

Now don’t get me going on the ‘Ultra Suave’ subhead to Ultra Soft. (picturing a guy with an ascot sitting on the bowl practicing smooth pick up lines) *There is nothing like humor when you are your own target… it was just pointed out to me that Ultra Suave is the Spanish translation for Ultra Soft… damn, apparently I would have done poorly on that trip to Spain. Imagine the trouble I could have gotten myself into there.

I will give this brand credit for their ‘sitorsquat’ public restroom app. Although, if I am not mistaken, they stole this idea from George Castanza.

FYI, I am a loyal user of Charmin despite their silly taglines and even though I know it is bad for the environment. There are some places I will not sacrifice, and let’s face it, butt suave is where it’s at.

A Situation, or Life with a Lab.

Time: 6:45 am

Gary: Nooooo! Uch, now YOU get it.

Me: Ummm… you would be talking to who?

Gary: No, I am not kidding, you get it.

Me: (walking into the bathroom where I see both Gary and the Iko looking into the toilet) WAIT, I need to get a camera.

What, you thought I was going to stick my hand in the toilet to get that bone? Yeh, right! Yes, that is what that was, a bone. I have had people guess it was a sock and a condom. Seriously? A condom in my house? With my sans uterus, way past childbearing old arse?

Gary: She needs to get that out of the toilet. Go ahead Iko, you dropped it in there, now you get it out.

Iko: Gives the universal Lab look of ‘are you f’in kidding me’, turns around and walks out of the bathroom.

Me: Guess that leaves you, my sweet. Don’t worry, I just cleaned that toilet… um, when was that again.

He is hard pressed to believe I did not put the dog up to this… perhaps that will make him think next time he leaves the seat up ; )

A good sign that the cashier is stoned

Coming out of the supermarket the other day I started loading the bags into my car (don’t judge me for not carrying reusable bags, I am lame), when I came across this bag with the eggs and…

canned goods.

Please tell me in what universe this made sense to a cashier?

I am very proud to say that I was a supermarket cashier in high school and I took great pride in bagging like items so that unpacking the groceries would be easier. Yes, even as a teenager I was an OCD Virgo.

Since having this job I understood the importance of putting like items on the belt together so that the bagging task would be easier. A little pay it forward for the poor cashiers who work their butts off on their feet all day.

Except for this guy, who was obviously getting high on his break .

What do you think the people in the parking lot were thinking when they saw me taking a picture of my groceries?

Don’t answer that.

You CAN pick your friend’s nose

Remember that stupid saying,”You can pick your friends; and you can pick your nose; but you can’t pick your friend’s nose”?

I never really got that. I mean, people do all sorts of weird stuff with orifices (or is that orifici?), I would imagine a little nose picking amongst friends might be going on out there with the non-germphobic crowd.

I digress, this post was spawned by an email from the stock photography site, Corbis. I have been a Corbis customer since the olden days of graphic design when they would send out these delicious print volumes of stock photo images and we would flip through the pages to choose the right image. And instead of emails, we would receive teaser postcards with images like these to get us to call and do a search. Yes, I am aware this is the Art Director’s equivalent of the ‘I used to walk to school 10 miles in the snow’ story that my dad used to tell us. All you youngun’s, you will have these stories about archaic, clunky handheld mobile devices instead of the chip behind their ear that your kids will have.

Ughh… digressing again. The point is, the other morning, on a particularly difficult day for me (stay tuned for more on that on Tuesday), the photo above showed up in my inbox. It had that Sleeper-esque feeling about it and just the visual made me laugh. Their 20% headline was excellent for their purpose, but this headline popped into my head:

You CAN pick your friend’s nose.

I know, I am brilliant. What a lovely promo for a plastic surgeon… maybe a 2 for 1 deal! It made me laugh on a morning that laughing was the last thing I thought I would do, so thanks Corbis. But, the best part was yet to come when I clicked over to their site (yes it worked, they got the click-through from me and put Corbis top of mind), I found this photo… the pay off.

The proverbial ‘picked nose’.

Yeh it could be time to pitch a plastic surgery team. Anyone in? Other headline ideas?

Bacon Flavored Condoms

Oddly enough I have written about both bacon and condoms in a single post before. I suppose no one who reads this blog finds that odd, actually.

Does a post like this really need any commentary? Doesn’t the actual existence of bacon flavored condoms speak for itself.

Not on your life.

Ok, the tagline… ‘make your meat, look like meat’. The second part in bold, no less. Um yeh, we get it.

Lame.

I would prefer something along the lines of – ‘because you’re smokin’. Or maybe something as simple as ‘the meat lover’s protection’. Or something corny like ‘because you never know who you might meat’ Or maybe, ‘because you can never get enough protien’

And the snipe on the top left of the box ‘it never look so good, it never tasted better’. You know… IT. Like “he took IT out” – Elaine Bennis.

But the tagline and the snipe are not the big winners on this baby. Oh no. What really puts this product over the top is that unbelievable line ‘lubricated with baconlube’. Do you think this is authentic?

Ughhh! SO not kosher!

Would you buy this product?

Lady Anti-Monkey Butt

I saw this the other day in the oddest of places… the hardware store. I am still unclear why it was on the shelf next to the Duck Tape (not to be confused with the Duct Tape).

Perhaps this was the animal shelf.

I had a vague memory of this stuff and went back into my archives to find that I had written about the male version back in October 09. Yes, I have been writing that long… much longer actually; about stuff like anti-friction powder, so yes, you could say I have an impressive body of work.

I simply love the hot pink butt on this monkey. The pink bow, the thumbs up, the crazy grin of anti-friction relief, the pearl earrings for G-d’s sake… she is just fabulous.

I think I was drawn to her human stance because I just finished a 582 page book about a talking chimp. I have this odd feeling that all the animals around me can really talk but they are clamming up because they don’t want to make a scene.

No, I don’t think I have snapped.

Back to the powder. Anti-friction? Is it me, or do I just not feel that there is so much butt friction in my daily life that I need something to counter it. Perhaps it is this – my son always complains about a condition he calls swamp ass. So the first thing I thought of when I saw this was how great it would be for lady swamp ass. You know, like the Virginia Slims of ass relief. And then I read that post from a few years ago and I had the same thought (sans the Virginia Slims).

So now I am snapping AND losing my memory.

Who cares. The thing that counts is that I am blogging again. And after a long period of being serious, I feel compelled to be absurd again. That can’t be bad (not as bad as butt friction, anyway).

So, for those of you who missed me and were starting to complain…

You asked for it!

Time to Cry Tuesday – As Long as You’ve Got Your Health

My nana used to say this all the time. As would be fitting for a young person I used to smile sweetly in response and go about my business without giving it much thought. I mean, older people said stuff like this all the time, right?

In the last almost 3 months I have thought about this often and I am pretty sure Nana is waving that perfectly manicured finger at me from wherever she is. I can just about hear her signature, ‘Now, Amy Dear… I TOLD you!”, echoing in my head. (For a while I was convinced she thought Dear was my middle name).

For those who were regular readers, you have noticed – and complained I might add, in an endearing way – about my sparse postings. I am working on getting back here, but it seems I am a rolling series of calamities waiting to happen.

Not wanting to bore you with the blow by blow details, let’s just say I have run the gamut. I have decided that rather than bitch about it I will try to point out the humor in what I hope is the tail end of this run.

1. After 2 rounds of sinus infections and countless antibiotics, I finally felt as if I could breathe clearly again and all was good with the world. That is when while making the bed, the dog decided to ‘help’ and popped me so hard in the nose I almost passed out. As I ran to the bathroom, bleeding profusely, it occurred to me I had never known what is was like to take a hit to the face. It sucks, btw. And breathing… not going to lie, it’s not so great.
2. If you remember, I had a little ‘mishap’ with my blood pressure and they changed my meds. All was good with the world till…. I looked down to find my Aunt Bessie’s ankle on the end of my right foot. Yeh, that’s right, I was pretty much in the market for support hose and a hairnet. (BTW, I am unsure whether I had an Aunt Bessie or if she had swollen ankles but it makes the story better so go with it). I called the doc, he changed my meds, the ankle started to go down, I tossed the hairnet and all was good with the world. Until…
3. I slipped on some towels and fell down the stairs carrying 2 laundry baskets and sprained the same friggin’ ankle! Yeh, that’s right, the one I was supposed to watch for swelling to make sure the new meds were working right! I was, however, wearing shorts and sneakers getting ready to go on the elliptical, so I am deeming this a sports injury. (Please give me this one)

The moral of this story? Jewish girls should not do laundry? Dogs should not make the bed? Nope.

The moral of this story is that Nana was right!

So if you happen to see me gimping down the street, be kind. Offer me a little bubble plastic. Or maybe a helmet. And remember:

As long as you’ve got your health…

Cat Butt Gum

Is it really necessary for me to write about this? Was the snapping of the shot not enough commentary?

I will leave but one comment here:

Is anyone else disturbed by the level of detail in the rendering of the feline anus on this package?

Yeh, I thought so.

 

 

Time to Cry Tuesday – ER, ER, Ow!

Did this translate. You know, like EI EI OH. Ok, sort of weak. Cut me some slack, that was ME in the ER for 21 friggin’ hours last week.

Ok, a blanket I am so very sorry to everyone I did not call and tell this personally to. Again, a little slack for the woman who spent all that time in the theatre of the absurd. You know, the one with the black and blue arms from the 2 IVs and 3 blood draws.

The short story is that my usually managed high blood pressure decided to fall off that wagon and wreak havoc with my system. I was addressing it outpatient with docs but around 8PM on Thursday I was deemed unfit for my own bed and sent off to the ER with chest pains and a blazing headache.

Yes, I thought I was perhaps stroking out or having a heart attack.

No, I did not.

Yes, I was scared to death but kept my cool. (poor choice of words) I do not admit that often (refer back to high blood pressure and lack of losing it).

Keep in mind I live 5 minutes from a premiere heart hospital. My doc is the head of cardiology there. I had all the confidence in the world that I would get the best of care.

Perhaps in an alternate universe.

You see I suffered the misfortune of not only showing up the first week the new ER opened, but 5 days after they instituted their brand new computer system. The place was a sea of purple scrubs… designated tech help. Every task came with it a learning curve that made each thing take 10x longer to complete. This clusterfuck of a night left me waiting in the ER waiting room for 4 HOURS! With another hour and half after I got in to see a doc.

Did I mention the migraine headache and chest pains?

Yeh, ridiculous. Think of this as the healthcare version of the Magnet for the Absurd.

Favorite lines of the evening:

ER Doc: Mrs. Levinson we take chest pain very seriously.

Me: Really? Does 4 hours in the waiting room and 1.5 hours before you got to my bed constitute serious? (Just a tip, in ER time I will be there in 10 minutes means 1 hour.)

Nurse: Sorry, we are delayed on your cardiac CT because we need to run a pregnancy test.

Me: Really? Does that fancy computer not get the correlation between a hysterectomy and the inability to be pregnant?

X-Ray Tech: Is there any chance you could be pregnant?

Me: Does nobody read the patient charts?

CT Tech: Ok, let’s see, no diabetes, no cancer, no depression, lost your uterus in a card game…

Me: Finally someone who reads the chart AND has a sense of humor. (He was the highlight of the experience)

It goes on an on. the CT staff telling me I must drink 8 glasses of water to clear the dye while the nurse instructs me no food or drink till the results are back. I get that. How about the massive headache that grew all day because…

that’s right, no food or drink till the results came back.

The entire experience was a comedy of errors. Right down to the hour and half it took after I was released for them to figure out how to get the computer to release me.

Visualize Gary with one of the tech people telling him he could not leave my nurse’s station until he saw a paper print out with my name on it.

The exact reasons I did not want to go to the ER were realized…

Times 10.

Anyone else want to share a good ER tale?

Fun With International Symbols

I work long hours. My office is in the basement and every once in awhile you can find me laughing out loud down here. You know my motto, it is always good to find little things to amuse yourself.

Last night I was doing an image search for an infographic project and I needed to weed through pages of stock icon art. I almost passed this one by, but (no pun intended) the yellow struck me and I stopped. Then I tilted my head a bit and took another look. Was this what I thought it was? Um… yeh. The search term field had it spelled out loud and clear:

Rectal exam.

International symbol for rectal exam?! Well, I suppose this would come in handy in a foreign country. You know, when you are having some intestinal distress and taking over the counter meds doesn’t make as much sense as having a friggin’ rectal by someone who does not speak your language. Would this be off the street signage? Exactly where would we find this symbol?

I also came across this series:

 

Not sure why mom/baby, wheel chair guy and trash man find their way to same page as pee boy and squatting pee boy (what the hell is that?) BTW, I believe the little squatter is wearing a shirt and no pants… wrong on all sorts of level. I love the legs up on the toilet guy. That would come in handy when illustrating a piece about perverts that hide in ladies rooms. Or my fave – the kneeling pucker, AKA the international symbol for  college freshman.

Anyone want to take a crack at the one next to pukey boy? Does that illustrate the pain one feels when trying to flush one’s foot down the toilet?

OK, I admit it. Sometimes my job is more fun than recreation. Sometimes my job IS recreation.

And seriously, who can pass up a little bathroom humor.

Thanks istockphoto, for an entertaining evening.