If things go well, you might be showing off your O-face!

I've already written about how my job has involved many pitch meetings for different products, and that I probably pay attention to commercials, slogans, and advertising in general more than the average person does. I think about what goes into a pitch meeting, and how I'm sure some advertising agencies must be amazed when a client goes with (and pays big money for) some half-baked or unintentionally hilarious idea.

For example, I was surprised by this product name and was saddened by this spokesperson/song, and I couldn't believe that this winter accessory actually made it into production. The last marketing campaign that caught my attention was way back in November, and it was True North's"extraordinary nutsnacks". I even asked my friends Spammon & Lindsey to be the official House of Jules extraordinary nutsnack taste-testers. You can read that post (and I highly recommend it, for the nutsnack comparison photos alone!) HERE.

Since that time, I haven't seen any glaringly awful or awesome product advertising, that is until this week when I saw this:



1. Yes, they are asking you to "upload your O-face*" so people can VOTE ON IT.

2. Not only do they want you to "upload your O-face*", but if you win, your O-face* will be featured in a national ad campaign. C'mon. Nobody wants to see that.



I'm guessing the nice people at Three-O Vodka told the female model to act like she walked into her own surprise party, and told the male model to act like he was being held up at gunpoint, giving a sad, new meaning to stick 'em up. I bet they just want everybody to think to themselves how easy it would be to win. Sneaky bastards.


*"You know what I'm talking about...O! Yeah..."

And the award goes to...

I just wrote something in the comments at Suburban Bliss, and thought you'd get a better understanding of who I am in real life by reading it for yourself. So, I tweaked it a bit to make the following blog post out of it. Why didn't I think to do this kind of thing during NaBloPoMo? Sadly, there's more awkward interaction stories where this came from. Maybe it'll be a running theme, sharing my most uncomfortable moments. Feel free to share yours here in the comments.


There should be an award for awkward interactions, and I say that because I have earned a shelf-full of these as yet non-existent gold statues.

Like the time I was working as a consultant (freelance, but on-site) graphic designer and the project manager was HOT in that tall, athletic, handsome, and built to win Darwin's survival of the fittest kind of ways. You know, if you're into that. He was also really friendly, which made it even easier to spend many hours thinking of all the terribly inappropriate things that could happen between two people in an office situation. BAD ME!

One day the firm closed early because there was a major, shut-down-the-roadways snowstorm. I had only been at the design firm for 3 weeks of my 3 month stint, and just before everyone left, a bunch of us were looking out the huge picture window to see how the traffic was. The drool-worthy project manager was walking in the room as a few of us were walking out, and had his arms outstretched.

I failed to notice that he was doing some kind of stretching thing until the millisecond AFTER I went in for a big hug.

Luckily he was totally cool and busted my chops about it all the way out to the parking lot. After I pulled away in my car, I alternated between laughing and crying for the next 3 hours as I was stuck in traffic.

Good times.

Jenny Hough*, the loser of the family DNA lottery, has the same response to anything sibling-related

I haven't really watched DWTS this season, but laughed myself off the couch last night when I saw Michael Flatley. I don't know WHY I laughed so hard, but I did. Maybe because I remember all the madness surrounding him when he was The Prince of Prance or whatever he called himself. I could Google it, but I like what I came up with better. Forever more, Michael Flatley will be known (at least to me) as The Prince of Prance.

The other day, I read this blurb on DWTS pro Julianne Hough, who seems like a sugary-sweet, totally down-to-earth person... at least on TV. One of the first comments is the one you see below. I've cropped in the article so it gets top billing. I am by nature a snarky person but GAH! There are way too many fools who have access to things like keyboards or DSL lines or other people**:


Oh Jenny! After leaving a comment like this, you've put in a full day. Why don't you skip your usual 10 a.m. appointment to kick puppies in the crotch and take a little nap instead?!


*As far as I know there isn't really a Jenny Hough, but if there is, she's probably too busy with the family business of dancing away people's sadness with that golden DNA to make time for trifling commentary like this. 

**Case in point: The dreaded "Nurse Rubie", who terrorized Linds & family at the hospital over the weekend.

Crock of Love

You know I love my VH1 programming, especially if you read THIS. A couple of weeks ago, I saw a commercial for the next season of Charm School, starring the "bad girls" from both seasons of Rock of Love and I nearly melted my phone from all the text messages I furiously typed out to share the excitement with all of my friends. Even more exciting? Sharon Osbourne will host the show.

The first season of Charm School had Mo'Nique as the self-righteous host, schooling all the "bad girl" cast members from Flavor of Love in all things lady-like. I find the new season's hosting duties in the hands of Sharon Osbourne hilariously ironic casting because once on HER reality show, "The Osbournes", Sharon threw a rotting ham over the fence into their neighbors yard right after cussing them out for playing their music too loud. This should go without saying, but I love her just for that very unlady-like move alone. Charm School 2 is going to be a train wreck and I can't wait to see it!

Speaking of train wrecks and rotting ham, remember Daisy De La Hoya from Rock of Love 2? She's the one who always cried when asked the simplest of questions, while trying to create diversions from all the lies she was telling with her backwards hands (which will make complete sense to you if you ever saw her in action). She lost to Ambre Lake, possibly the most normal chick Bret Michaels has ever hooked up with, and of course has since split from.


The very moment on Rock of Love 2 when Bret Michaels broke a ho's heart.


Still not ringing a bell? Here's the best description of Daisy that I can offer: she's the one who looks like Kira Gelfing from the 80's Jim Henson movie, The Dark Crystal:


Gelfings need love, too!


VH1 is casting for Daisy's hook-up show, which has the unfortunate and boring name, "Daisy of Love". I have a feeling her elimination line will be something like, "Do you love me or do you love me not?". I think they should just go on ahead and call the show "Crock of Love", but that's just me and my big ideas. Fingers crossed the show is as horrible as their title. Vh1 hasn't let me down yet!

Daisy De La Hoya may have had her heart broken in the season finale of Rock of Love 2, when Poison frontman Bret Michaels picked Ambre Lake, but the tattooed former stripper may have the last laugh. While Bret and Ambre have called it quits, blaming their busy schedules, Daisy is getting back in the game on a new VH1 show called Daisy of Love, premiering spring 2009.

She is “determined to find her one man who will rock her world,” a press release from VH1 reads. “Daisy is on a quest for true love and this time she is giving her fans the chance to vie for her love and vote to help determine which contestant makes the cut.” Men willing to vie for Daisy’s heart can log onto Daisy of Love Casting to upload their profiles and vote for potential contestants.

Source

A card for every occasion, except the obvious (and awkward), "See you after rehab!"

If the O.P.P. 3-ring binder wasn't for you, maybe this will get you to your local Target, STAT! Are you mentally prepared for this? David Hasselhoff has his own line of greeting cards:


I have no doubt that like Hasselhoff, his cards are big in Germany, too.


There's rock-climbing Hasselhoff, Baywatch Hasselhoff, 8x10 Glossy Hasselhoff and even suited-up for a night on the town Hasselhoff. All of them under the category of "Funny Birthday". Who knew?


"Funny Anytime" is right!

I thought the real video of a drunken Hasselhoff eating a burger on the floor was too sad, but this one? Wow. I wish I could tell you that I didn't find this one funny... but I did*. It's a puppet as drunken Hasselhoff, set to the audio of the original video. Let me be clear on what I find funniest about this whole thing: someone made a HASSELHOFF PUPPET, and that alone is hilarious. 

What really did me in is at 1:13, when he snorts:


Double-click on either 'play' arrow if you have trouble with the video.

*Obviously, alcoholism isn't funny. If this post offends you in any way, it wasn't my intention. Honestly, if my goal was to make you angry about the world we live in, I could have easily embedded either of his "Hooked on a Feelin'" or "Limbo Dance" music videos.

"Weed apple dweed appledeeeee, skeet apple dweed appledeee-eeeee"

Disclaimer: I realize based on the title of this post that I'll likely move to the top of Google searches for people trying to figure out how to smoke Matthew McConaughey's favorite herb using a hollowed-out fruit pipe, but I'm quoting a source directly and I take that kind of thing seriously*.


If anyone besides my sister remembers Chicago's very own David Broom from MTV's Real World New Orleans (2000), I think I just saw him at my local Target. He was buying throat lozenges, no doubt from all the incredible** jazz scatting he's known*** for.

Even if you don't know who I'm talking about, let me just tell you that I feel really good about putting his thug love song in your head, because after you play this clip, you're going to want to thank me!

You're SO welcome.

Double-click either "play" arrow if you have trouble with the video:

"I've seen the way you've treated other thugs you've been with, c'mon be my baby tonight!"

I really want this as a ringtone****. Rather, a skeet appledee apple skeet-tone.

*Well, I mean, relatively seriously. Okay, a little bit seriously. Alright, not at all.
**Using the term "incredible" loosely.
***Using the term "known" very loosely.
****Seriously! The kind of seriously that is in direct opposition of the way that I used seriously the first time was a joke. This seriously is serious. Seriously!

It was a dark and stormy night... seriously!

It really, really was.

If you've been keeping up with my twitter updates in the right sidebar (or you can follow them directly here), you know by now that we had terrible weather in Chicago on Monday; weather that included emergency alerts ordering everyone to dive into the nearest basement, the city storm-siren going off, a neighborhood-wrecking tornado that touched down 6 miles from where I was taking cover in my (empty) bathtub, and the delight of a 24-hour power outage.

Of course there have been more devastating storms around the world, but it was pretty intense. I have never heard Mother (Mutha!) Nature make such terrible, cringe-worthy and evil sounds as I did on Monday night. I love a good rainstorm, but I'm not going to lie; for about 45 minutes I was actually scared. Like, HOLY-SH*T,-I'M-GONNA-DIE scared. I got through it unscathed, thankfully. My only connection to other people and activities to pass the time was my cell phone, so between that and the crazy weather, I was able to enjoy the following:

1) Congratulating myself for money well-spent, Part 1
The video game Tetris that I purchased for my cell phone last month more than paid for itself, and is the best $2.99 ever spent. Not to be confused with The Best $29.99 Ever Spent.

2) I laughed, I cried!
After sending a 86% serious text message with the general sentiment being, "HOLY SH*T, I'M GONNA DIE", my favorite [Cherry] Ride responded with a diversionary tactic, which is exactly what I needed: "Good luck & be safe! Meanwhile, weather here is perfect & I am tan again... (I laughed) ...The men here are awesome, get on a plane & join me!" (I cried. Almost.)

3) Twitter, twutter, tweet!
Twittering is the modern-day smoke signal and I love it. It allows me to send 140-character (or less) text message "tweets" to the right sidebar of my blog, without being anywhere near a computer. Click here to follow me directly on twitter.

4) My own personal weather girl, straight outta Texas.
My friend Jen felt compelled to watch the weather channel and supply me with 20-minute storm updates after I sent her a panicky text message that may or may not have mentioned something about it sounding like Hell's choir outside, and "HOLY SH*T, I'M GONNA DIE". Sensing a theme?

5) Congratulating myself for money well-spent, Part 2
Awhile ago, I bought a live version of Jimmy Buffet's "Why Don't We Get Drunk & Screw" and assigned it as a special ringtone for a few of my friends serial drunk-dialers in my life. I won't mention any names because the guilty parties know who they are. In addition to it being the perfect ringtone for certain people, it's a good song to listen to repeatedly while sitting in your bathtub during inclement weather because who can think about the roof tearing off (and not in the GOOD way*) when you're consumed with thoughts of consuming margaritas?:

Double-click on the 'play' arrow if you have trouble with the imeem player.

6) Deciding ComEd qualifies as a drunk-dialer
I went ahead and assigned the "Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw" ringtone to the electric company after one too many puzzling power outage update phone calls from their automated messaging system. My favorite recorded call from them was, and I quote, "We understand that restoration times are important, but accurate restoration times are more important." Talking nonsense in circles is the classic drunk-dial, and obviously their automated messaging system was wasted.

7) Attempting my earliest bedtime since 9th grade
I tried--and failed--going to bed before my usual time of 1:30 a.m since there was no sign of my power coming back on anytime soon and it was either sleep or sweat. Just as my head hit the pillow, my phone rang (I'll give you one guess which ringtone!) and I ended up on a 3-way phone call from the aforementioned Jen and our very old friend Danny, who we just reconnected with after 20 years. It was kind of like them calling to make sure I was still alive and then killing me with the crushing realization of how many years have gone by since we were all in the same classroom. Thanks, guys!

8) Being an optimist, even in little ways
All that time playing Tetris, text messaging, song-playing, and talking on the phone meant that the battery was running on empty. The electricity was still out, but I decided that just in case it came back on before morning, I'd plug it into the charger and hope for the best. That ended up being a no-go, but it did have just enough juice left to beep for the alarm I set before it died the death.

9) Confirming that I'm not optomistic enough to consider romantic showering a SOLO endeavor.
My bathroom doesn't have any natural light, and even the bright light of day from my bedroom couldn't do anything for the cave my shower seemed to be that morning. So, I put 3 big candles usually kept in the living room on my bathroom counter, but purely out of necessity. Unfortunately.

10) Getting proof that the next generation is awesome, and they love me. Or awesome because they love me, I'm not sure which.
After my non-romantic candlelit shower, I went to my sister's house to charge my phone before work. Luckily they weren't affected by the storm at all, and they only live 15 miles from me. While there, I read this email from Jen about her daughter, who happens to be my favorite 10-year old. After you read this, she might be your favorite 10-year old, too:

Katie shared her "My prars to God and other stuff" journal with me this morning and her prayer for last night was:

"Augist 4, 2008. Dear Loard, plese keep Juley safe from the tornatow and protect her."

She may not be able to spell, but she has such a good heart! The funniest thing is how she spells "AMEN". Ready for this?  All Men!!! She does have a lot of her mother in her, doesn't she?

You have learned well, Grasshopper! You even know how to hold onto a tree during a tornatow!    Image ©HouseofJules


Going by that All Men thing, she certainly does have a lot of her mother in her... and maybe a little bit of her, ahem, more discriminating "Aunt Juley", too. Since I don't spell like a 10-year old, I think I'll take partial credit for her sweetness sassiness.

Long story short: holy sh*t, I didn't die! To that I say, All men, everybody, all men.


*If you read that phrase and didn't actually click the hotlink, you're missing out on a good thing. Scroll back up to number 5 and click the purple words! You're welcome.

Oye Como WHA?

Dear Carlos Santana,
You've been a giant in the music industry since the 70's. Your Abraxas album is a classic for the ages. In 2000, you won 8 (eight!) Grammys for your Supernatural album. You're #15 on Rolling Stone's 100 Greatest Guitar Players of All Time list. Your Milagro Foundation has helped countless underprivileged children around the globe for a decade. In the span of your on-going career, you've sold over 90 MILLION RECORDS and counting.

All of those accomplishments would satisfy a lot of people. Not you, though. Apparently you thought it was time to start designing, of all things, women's shoes. I'm not sure who encouraged you to go forward with this idea, but they should be fired immediately. I would like to suggest that you channel your creativity in other ways, because there is NO EXCUSE for this kind of "artistry":


NO...


...and HELL-to-the-NO!

You should design a specialty line of amps, guitars and guitar straps. Stick with what you know. Seriously.

Besos,
Jules

Pouring honey from a jar, any car in front of me when I'm in a hurry, the current administration coming to an end

What do all of those things have in common with April's Hump of the Month post? The progression is much slower than anyone would like. It's too bad all of these things can't balance themselves out with the supersonic speed at which the past few days have kicked my ass unleashed the motherf**king moonwalk on me. My head is spinning, mostly because of my 11th hour tax adventure on Monday night, which I will not get into because I'm fresh out of vodka.

So, I'm putting Javier's Humpday off to avoid a hastily-written post that doesn't do him justice, because he deserves better than that. This way I can watch the other 2 Bardem movies that just arrived in my mailbox, which will allow for a more informed opinion on his hotness acting. It will also allow the shoulders that used to be at the base of my neck to (maybe, possibly, hopefully?) drop down from the top of my head.

Because it's not my style to leave you high & dry, here's a little somethin'-somethin' that can best explain why sometimes slow & easy is better:


Awww yeah. I'm talking to you, Bardem.

Meatloaf would do anything for money (but he won't do that). Oh wait, yes he will.

Disclaimer Caveat: Even though it was released in 1977, Meatloaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light is a classic for the ages. You cannot argue this point with me and win.

More than 30 years after it's release, Paradise by the Dashboard Light is still being played on every college campus in the country. It was certainly played at every party or bar I went to in college, and each time it came on, my friends and I were suddenly in our own musical. Everything-- beer pong, keg stands, a table full of people playing the card game affectionately known as A-hole, the guitar-playing dudes on the front steps--would stop, and we would all wholeheartedly sing along*. Even the burly, stoic guys who never sang joined in loudly; which makes sense if you go by the increased beer consumption=increased volume of sound equation. Afterwards, with no mention of the buzzed chorus we were all apparently members of, regular party activity would ramp-up again. Me? I was probably getting back to kicking ass at speed quarters.

Now that you understand the degree to which this particular song is ingrained in my college experience, you can understand why I received no less than 12 e-mails over the weekend from some of those friends in response to and concurrence with my horror at seeing this commercial:


Double-click on either 'play' arrow if you have trouble with the video

Part of my job is coming up with marketing ideas and advertising pitches, so I realize that I analyze commercials (and ok, lots of things) more than the average bear. I will start you off with these points to ponder:

1) They cast 80's pop singer Tiffany as the mom who can stock a garage refrigerator (with french bread?!) and then release a dove from her bare hands that she magically pulled out of thin air (after a prayer?!). The dove flies out of view never to be seen again, which is probably supposed to represent how quickly time passes, or something equally depressing. All I know is when I first saw that part of the commercial, I actually thought to myself, "This right here? THIS is what it sounds like when doves cry."

2) In a glorious display of a textbook mood swing, we find out that if Meatloaf gets "crazed", he'll angrily throw a fireball into a trash can. Then, he'll tell you he's going to buy you something.

3) The script calls for the teenager to grab nothing out of thin air TWICE and eat it. This thin-air thing must come from his mom's DNA. Maybe originally he was supposed to eat flying doves but they thought it would distract from the message, which ends up coming through regardless. The message is that Meatloaf needs cash and will seemingly do anything to get it.

4) Unless you're selling dynamite, having the featured product EXPLODE at the end of the commercial might not be the best thing to leave in the mind of the potential customer.

5) For me, the most disturbing part of this commercial is the song choice. If you don't already know or never thought about it before, Paradise by the Dashboard Light (like all Jim Steinman songs) is a massive and over-the-top saga of teenage sex in a car-turned-miserable marriage that goes like this (and because Tiffany's flying dove reminded me that time is fleeting, I opted to edit down the mass of information found on Wikipedia instead of typing up my own run-down):

Part one, Paradise Reminiscing their days as a high school couple, making out in the front seat of a car. "And now our bodies are oh so close and tight/It never felt so good it never felt so right..." As the song progresses it's clear that the boy has more on his mind. "Baby don't you hear my heart/You've got it drowning out the radio/I've been waiting so long for you to come along and have some fun/And I gotta let you know, no you're never gonna regret it/So open up your eyes I've got a big surprise, it'll feel all right/ I wanna make your motor run". 

Part two, Let Me Sleep On It The girl refuses to go any further unless the boy promises that he will love her, marry her, and stay faithful. The boy is conflicted and says he'll tell her in the morning, which doesn't get him very far. "I couldn't take it any longer/ Lord, I was crazed / When the feeling came upon me like a tidal wave / Started swearing to my God/ And on my mother's grave/ That I would love you till the end of time / I swore I would love you till the end of time"

Part three, Praying For The End Of Time Things snap back to the present time. They are sticking to their vows, despite being miserable about it. "So now I'm praying for the end of time / To hurry up and arrive / 'cause if I got to spend another minute with you I don't think that I can really survive/ I'll never break my promise / Or forget my vow / But God only knows what I can do right now/ I'm praying for the end of time / It's all that I can do! / Praying for the end of time / So I can end my time with you!"

Now I ask you...will the debased version of this song sell phones to parents of teenagers? The same teenagers who after having borrowed the car, may just ignore that ringing phone as they participate in their own paradise by the dashboard "Go-Phone" light?

...

*I have the exact same kind of flashbacks when I hear Hootie & the Blowfish's Hold My Hand or Only Wanna Be With You. I realize to some of you that admission might blow my credibility on the topic of 'classics', but those WERE The Hootie Years, so I have no shame about that. Besides, I defy you to find a song with a sweetly-appropriate lyrical summation of college relationships that tops, "Maybe we can't change the world but I'm gonna love you the best that, the best that I can."

Well, besides this obvious choice!

This is all theoretical, of course; it certainly didn't just happen to me.

Let's just say, in theory, that you got home from work a little bit early today; and let's go one further and say that there is a 6' tall snowbank between your parked car and the sidewalk that leads down the path to your door. Assuming that the snowbank was not solid ice, and that the earth has this thing called gravity; at some point during your attempt to go over the pile of snow, your legs probably sank down pretty far, and then you had to pull them out and climb a little higher, sinking down again.

You most likely repeated those actions enough times to eventually get over the top and then you did more of a slide down the back of the snowbank. Your boots are wet, your socks are wet, your pants are water-logged, and unfortunately you're wearing the ones that are longer than they should be; so they're also dragging down the sidewalk all the way to your door; bringing tiny piles of snow and ice along with them.

Since it's windy, and you're already shaking from the low temperature, the first thing you do when you close the front door behind you is to take off your jacket, hat, gloves, sopping wet boots and socks. Then you look down at your pants, which are sticking to your legs as if you went swimming in them, and figure, "I might as well take these off, too"; which you do. Right there in your entryway.

You're standing there, shivering cold, but at least you're no longer wet, and decide to quickly flip through your mail. Then, just as you start a little mini-jog towards your bedroom, where you're to find comfortable, dry clothes to throw on, a man walks out of your bathroom. He's as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

Each of you manages to scream LIKE A GIRL for about 5 seconds, and once you realize you're standing there in nothing but a sweater, in front of one of the maintenance guys, you get it together long enough to push past him and slam your bedroom door, all the while yelling, "What the F%*K, YOU GUYS ARE SUPPOSED TO CALL 24 HOURS BEFORE YOU COME IN HERE!"; and he's stammering apologies, saying "It was marked down that someone DID call, but it must have been an oversight because why would you be half naked if you knew someone was fixing your bathroom sink?", and while you're pulling on some pants you yell back, "You're damned right it was an oversight!"

Then he says he "just finished anyway!", which, because you're delirious, in shock and also because you have the twisted mind of a 15 year old, you misconstrue it, thinking he's trying to be funny by implying something ENTIRELY different by that statement, and you lose your shit completely until you realize he just means he's done with the sink repair.

By the time you open your bedroom door--fully dressed--you're already laughing about the absurdity of the last 15 minutes.

Having quietly stepped over your pile of wet clothes and boots in the entryway, he's already gone.