I love strange lines from movies ("Nobody puts Baby in a corner") and bizarre commercials ("Mentos, the Freshmaker"). Hence the "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful" blog.
To this day, I still quote the little Southern girl saying, "It's Shake n' Bake and I helped" or my all-time favorite, "Ancient Chinese secret," with the wife outing her husband's Calgon tricks. "My husband, some hotshot, here's his ancient Chinese secret." The cheesier the better!
Over 20 years ago, an ad was running in London where there was a filmed image of a mop waxing a floor. At the end, a bottle of liquid Ajax was placed on the shining floor. You could only see the reflection of the bottle (XAJA) and the British voice over said, "Xaja, nomel ro etihw." (Translated: Ajax, lemon or white!) It was just brilliant and, to make it even funnier, I found out later that xaja means "silly" in Greek.
With that said, one of my favorites from the last few years was for BudLight with a classic one-liner: "Nothing quite like a beer straight from the tree." I hope YouTube links stay put for a while because I could watch it over and over again!
Which brings me to the best commercial ever . . . from The Simpson's: Canyonero. Just beautiful.
Happy Friday.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Lucky Me!
My boss just came into my office beaming, "In the 15 years that we've been in business, we've never been this busy!"
Paycheck aside, I have only one thing to say: Jane, stop this crazy thing!
Paycheck aside, I have only one thing to say: Jane, stop this crazy thing!
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
It's All About Me
When I was younger, I told my mom that I hoped I died before her because I couldn't bear to live without her. Her response? "That is so selfish! How do you think I would feel?"
Oddly enough, I hadn't really thought about it that way.
A while back ago, I told my girlfriend DeeDee that I wanted my ashes to be scattered at Cape Hatteras because it's my favorite beach in the U.S. (so far). She responded by saying, "That is so selfish! You're going to make your husband drive 11 hours with your dead body in the car?"
Once again, not my problem.
Similarly, my mom told us that she wanted each of her children to take some of her ashes, go on a trip (not with each other necessarily) and scatter her around the world -- we could choose anywhere as long as we were having fun. My sister says she's going to throw mom in front of Eastview Mall so she can visit her every weekend.
Works for me!
Yeah, I know, I seem to be on this weird death kick lately in here but thought these few stories had a common thread: per usual, it really is all about me.
Oddly enough, I hadn't really thought about it that way.
A while back ago, I told my girlfriend DeeDee that I wanted my ashes to be scattered at Cape Hatteras because it's my favorite beach in the U.S. (so far). She responded by saying, "That is so selfish! You're going to make your husband drive 11 hours with your dead body in the car?"
Once again, not my problem.
Similarly, my mom told us that she wanted each of her children to take some of her ashes, go on a trip (not with each other necessarily) and scatter her around the world -- we could choose anywhere as long as we were having fun. My sister says she's going to throw mom in front of Eastview Mall so she can visit her every weekend.
Works for me!
Yeah, I know, I seem to be on this weird death kick lately in here but thought these few stories had a common thread: per usual, it really is all about me.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Ummmmmmmmm Bread
Among other things, like teaching restaurant and hotel management, my mom (a.k.a. Grannie Annie) is a nutritionist, menu planner and certified dietitian.
When I was a teenager (and the drinking age was still 18), my girlfriends and I were budding alcoholics. Night after night we would head out, with our fake IDs, to those bars in walking distance. Later, still with our fake IDs, we would hit the dive bars in the next town over.
As we left, my mom would always say, "Think of all of those extra calories. Instead of a beer, you could have a slice of bread." Huh? We would all crack up. Methinks she was missing the point!
For this reason, I could not help but think of her when I read the recent restaurant opening in New York magazine: Fat Annie's Truck Stop. Hello! Frito Lay pie and beer? It has my name written all over it!
When I was a teenager (and the drinking age was still 18), my girlfriends and I were budding alcoholics. Night after night we would head out, with our fake IDs, to those bars in walking distance. Later, still with our fake IDs, we would hit the dive bars in the next town over.
As we left, my mom would always say, "Think of all of those extra calories. Instead of a beer, you could have a slice of bread." Huh? We would all crack up. Methinks she was missing the point!
For this reason, I could not help but think of her when I read the recent restaurant opening in New York magazine: Fat Annie's Truck Stop. Hello! Frito Lay pie and beer? It has my name written all over it!
Monday, July 30, 2007
Honeoye Lake
My girlfriend Meg invited the kids and me to spend the weekend with her family at her in-law's cottage this past weekend. Aside from it being a little too cool in the shade, we had a glorious, sunny weekend. We took the paddle boat out a couple of times and the kids had fun swimming, fishing and playing a game that was new to me: redneck golf. (Turns out there is a "sport" I'm good at after all!)
Her daughters, my boys and I also slept in a tent for the first time together which I loved -- except that I could barely sleep because every little noise freaked me out.
I read a story years ago about forgiveness, of all things, written by a mother whose youngest daughter was kidnapped from their tent while the family camped in Montana. The kidnapper quietly slit the tent while the whole family was asleep inside, pulled the daughter out, and later killed her at his nearby house. Although the story told about this woman's prayers for her daughter's safety and prayers/compassion for the kidnapper (who ultimately called her one night, they chatted for an hour and he was subsequently arrested), I have never been able to get the horror of this story out of my head.
But really, what are the chances of something like that happening? Close to nil. Yet reason and logic vanish in the middle of the night. The story played in my head over and over. I even dreamed of a dead girl speaking to me about her brother. Not exactly relaxing.
I need to get over this, though, because I used to love camping and don't want this irrational fear to ruin it for me. I'm thinking of taking baby steps: I'll start by "camping" in our backyard and gradually work up to pitching a tent in Manhattan. And I'll pack some mace.
Her daughters, my boys and I also slept in a tent for the first time together which I loved -- except that I could barely sleep because every little noise freaked me out.
I read a story years ago about forgiveness, of all things, written by a mother whose youngest daughter was kidnapped from their tent while the family camped in Montana. The kidnapper quietly slit the tent while the whole family was asleep inside, pulled the daughter out, and later killed her at his nearby house. Although the story told about this woman's prayers for her daughter's safety and prayers/compassion for the kidnapper (who ultimately called her one night, they chatted for an hour and he was subsequently arrested), I have never been able to get the horror of this story out of my head.
But really, what are the chances of something like that happening? Close to nil. Yet reason and logic vanish in the middle of the night. The story played in my head over and over. I even dreamed of a dead girl speaking to me about her brother. Not exactly relaxing.
I need to get over this, though, because I used to love camping and don't want this irrational fear to ruin it for me. I'm thinking of taking baby steps: I'll start by "camping" in our backyard and gradually work up to pitching a tent in Manhattan. And I'll pack some mace.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Communication Breakdown
My girlfriend sent me an email about a medium named Rebecca Rosen who her cousin and aunt just utilized and both had "amazing sessions." Not my thing at all, a little scary, religious views notwithstanding.
However, it did prompt my mother and me to chat about communicating with each other after she dies. Given that we talk 20X/week, the following questions seemed obvious: "Mom, is it possible that there is anything you'll still need to say that you haven't already told me?" and, "if so, can you say it in the next 20 years so I don't have to pay anyone to tell me more after you're gone?"
Knowing my mom's penchant for clipping, circling and sharing myriad articles of interest, as well as taking copious notes during her radio talk shows and occasional Oprah viewing, I now have a sneaking suspicion that my mom is going to contact me from afar on a daily basis with interesting tidbits from heaven.
I think I'll need to foster my own skills as a medium to save some money.
However, it did prompt my mother and me to chat about communicating with each other after she dies. Given that we talk 20X/week, the following questions seemed obvious: "Mom, is it possible that there is anything you'll still need to say that you haven't already told me?" and, "if so, can you say it in the next 20 years so I don't have to pay anyone to tell me more after you're gone?"
Knowing my mom's penchant for clipping, circling and sharing myriad articles of interest, as well as taking copious notes during her radio talk shows and occasional Oprah viewing, I now have a sneaking suspicion that my mom is going to contact me from afar on a daily basis with interesting tidbits from heaven.
I think I'll need to foster my own skills as a medium to save some money.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Nostradamus
CNN ran a story yesterday about a cat who lives in a nursing home and is able to predict when patients are going to die. Apparently this cat, Oscar, cuddles up in bed next to people during their final hours and, so far, he's batting 1000 (25 out of 25 correct).
People quoted in the article were speculating on whether he "notices telltale scents or reads something into the behavior of the nurses who raised him" or if he is "driven by self-centered pleasures like a heated blanket." I personally find it hard to believe that patients only get heated blankets in the final throes of life. Surely there are other beds Oscar can curl up on, no?
When my grandfather was ill, my sister and I were convinced that my mom's cat, Ashley, knew he was dying. There were times when, I swear, it looked like she was watching people move around the living room who we couldn't see. A little freaky.
Like animals who sense impending danger (e.g., earthquakes, tornadoes), I wonder if it is possible for certain animals, like Oscar, to receive advanced warning signals of some kind. Maybe it's as simple as a change in atmospheric pressure or the ability to detect small tremors in the earth; but, perhaps it's something more intuitive.
A friend from grad school once stayed on our couch for weeks while looking for a job in the city. He told me that he always knew when I was coming home -- and it didn't matter if it was 10:00 a.m. or 6:00 p.m. -- because our cat, Stinky, would wake up from her nap and start to groom herself a few minutes before I walked in the door.
Whatever the cause, I'm flattered! If only my kids could tap into that psychic ability and pick-up their toys before I walk in the door, now that would be something.
People quoted in the article were speculating on whether he "notices telltale scents or reads something into the behavior of the nurses who raised him" or if he is "driven by self-centered pleasures like a heated blanket." I personally find it hard to believe that patients only get heated blankets in the final throes of life. Surely there are other beds Oscar can curl up on, no?
When my grandfather was ill, my sister and I were convinced that my mom's cat, Ashley, knew he was dying. There were times when, I swear, it looked like she was watching people move around the living room who we couldn't see. A little freaky.
Like animals who sense impending danger (e.g., earthquakes, tornadoes), I wonder if it is possible for certain animals, like Oscar, to receive advanced warning signals of some kind. Maybe it's as simple as a change in atmospheric pressure or the ability to detect small tremors in the earth; but, perhaps it's something more intuitive.
A friend from grad school once stayed on our couch for weeks while looking for a job in the city. He told me that he always knew when I was coming home -- and it didn't matter if it was 10:00 a.m. or 6:00 p.m. -- because our cat, Stinky, would wake up from her nap and start to groom herself a few minutes before I walked in the door.
Whatever the cause, I'm flattered! If only my kids could tap into that psychic ability and pick-up their toys before I walk in the door, now that would be something.
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