Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Into the Gap

Thank you, Gap. I just bought a pair of skinny jeans that are HIGH RISE. Oh, blessed waist that sits where a waist ought to sit. I would like to buy the whole world a pair of these jeans. I’m so sick of seeing butt cracks. And I don’t care how fancy your dental floss undies are, I don’t want images in my head. It wasn’t attractive on plumbers; it isn’t attractive on you.

I’m also sick of pulling down my shirt and hiking up my pants. Because I’m pretty sure you don’t want to see my butt cleavage, either. It wasn’t pretty pre-kids. It’s not pretty now.

But, Gap, I have to tell you. Why in Thor’s name would I want to buy my daughters low-rise bikini undies? Do I want people lookin’ at their pert little bottoms? No, I do not. Do I think it’s adorable to sell my children’s sexuality at age 5, or 8, or 12? Uh, no. Do I think that pre-emergent adult behavior is cute? Well, when they sweep the floor, or fold the towels, or diaper their babies, then, yes, that’s cute. But low-rise bikini underwear? That is not cute. I don’t think this is a case of me grousing about the evils of the rising generation. This is me saying that “sexy” shouldn’t be an adjective applied to children. Ever. And the only time I wanna see kid undies is in the package or when the kid is hanging upside down on a chair singing a song about boogers.

Except my son. Right now, he’s in his 10-hour-old diaper (read: sagging to his knees), standing on the table, throwing a box around. He thinks he’s Hercules. I don’t know what’s in the box. It’s addressed to Hal and I know it isn’t a present for me because I haven’t emailed any websites with possible Easter ideas, so for all I know, Baby is breaking some valuable Man Item. But probably not. Probably it’s full of something nasty and completely useless, like Muscle Milk or extra-large foam fingers. Oh, those are sexy, let me tell you...

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Quilted Northern

“It has to keep me clean while getting me clean.”

EEEW! Do I need Random Matrons to describe to me what toilet paper is supposed to do? No, I don’t, Newton. I’ve got that all figured out; years of experience, you know.

What is it with commercials giving too many details? Take Viagra. I don’t need the visuals, Mr. Hefner. I totally understand what Viagra is for, and if I don’t, I’ll just ask my doctor. I don’t need a bathtub, set out by the ocean, and a man and woman looking all sexy at each other. Gross. If I wanted to think about other people having sex, I’d pick cute famous people, not ugly strangers.

Same goes for the Axe commercials. First, as though a smell would get some greasy, basement-dwelling World of Warcraft playing 30 year old any girl, let alone multiple girls. Everyone knows that if you’re that man, you’d better also be a rock star, or there’s no sex for you, buddy. If you are a rock star, you can have your pick of supermodels. Funny, that. Men who are flatly disgusting can’t keep the girls off if they have a hit song to back them up. Really? Do you think Mick Jagger should ever have been able to reproduce? Not in a normal world.

Back to the Axe commercials. I truly hate them. Not only because they are so unreal, but because they make my stomach heave. Clearly, I am not their target audience.

Quilted Northern has had its share of bad commercials. Remember a few years ago, when they had all the ladies sitting around the tp “quilting” it? Well, the first few weeks they ran those adds, all the women had knitting needles in their hands. I’m not sure who was in charge of research on that, but I hope they got fired. Like they couldn’t google “quilting” and get a bunch of pictures of grandmas with quilting frames. I was offended. I pictured some NYC 20-something saying, “Yah, I saw a lady quilting in the airport. She had all this yarn and some sticks and they kept making a clicking noise...” Premio for being stupid.

And the baby talking commercials? Where they super-impose talking lips on babies? Creepy. It does not make me want to buy your baby food, but it does make me want to take a few Percoset.

I miss the cat food commercials with dancing cats, though. “Meow meow meow meow...” You know the one I mean. There’s nothing like a dancing cat to make me wish I had a reason to buy Meow Mix.

And, I’ve got to fess up, I also love the Old Spice commercials with the Man. You know who I mean. I’m thinking about buying Hal a pair of those pants, but that might be TMI.