Does anyone know where I can find a clip of the Gain fabric softener commercial that's set in a laundromat? I really wanted to post it on here but I can't find it anywhere. And by that I mean I can't find it on Youtube, because that's the only place to look for video stuff right? Sort of like how facebook is the only place to find love?
The funny thing is that as I'm writing this the commercial just came on TV again. Really! It's taunting me now!
Anyways, I wanted to post it because I think it's really great (oh my WORD it's on AGAIN! I've seen it 5 times in the last 15 minutes, I swear!) that such a mainstream company is making a statement to legitimize lesbian relationships. I mean, clearly this is about two middle aged women who meet and find a special spark in a laundromat, right?
I love it!
(PS: It's on AGAIN! - yes, I type slowly when I'm watching TV at the same time as writing a post.)
For people who want to learn, grow, get inspired, and stay silly.
Prime Minister #4: John Thompson
Hey, remember when I was doing that thing about prime ministers. Yeah, I'm doing that again. For today anyways. I think I left off at number three before, which really goes to show my sense of strong commitment to the project. Here we go with number FOUR: John Thompson, come on down!!! And yeah, the format's just completely out the window from now on, deal with it.
So this dude was PM from 1892-1894. Fun facts:
 |
| Sir John Sparrow David Thompson trying really hard not to look like a pirate. |
- His full name is Sir John Sparrow David Thompson - first middle name Sparrow? I do declare we've had a pirate for a PM!
- He's got the least internet name-recognition of them all. On Wikipedia there are no less than FIFTEEN John Thompsons listed as political figures. Not to mention some basketball player that apparently is more famous than the fourth Prime Minister of Canada. Priorities, people?
- Apparently Hollywood-style romance was part of the bill for Prime Ministers back then - his wife's parents disapproved and when they were dating he wrote her letters in shorthand to hide from them. Is this really the kind of man we want running our country?
- He played hard to get and first recommended John Abbott to be PM when people asked him to do it.
- He won the war on the seal hunt! And by that I mean he won the right to hunt seals.
- Not a role model for health and wellness, Sir Sparrow was 225lbs and 5'7". This would have likely gotten in the way of his pirating. Also, it caused him to die after 2 years as PM.
Photographers are creepy
My roommate is having a photoshoot in the living room with his man-crush friend. Over the strains of "Take it Easy" and other easy-listening motel room classics, I hear him murmur the following using a voice one might call "dulcet":
"I'll just ... adjust your shirt..."
"Now to pleasure you."
"I just want to get it perfect."
"It's surprising I'm having such a hard time with this."
"A little bit closer to me. Little more. Little more. Good."
"The more you pay the deeper it goes."
"Okay, one last safety."
"You see what I was doing there?"
"Let's go back and try one more."
"Are you okay with that? ... I need to know!"
"Let's take one of me!"
Kitten wars
I want a kitten. I really really really really want a kitten. Why can't I have a kitten?
This morning, I choose to torture myself by looking up photos of kittens.
Okay, so my new goal in life is to get my landlord to let me have a kitten at all costs. Here's the sitch: I had a kitten when I was looking for the place and he said I could have one. The people who lived here before me also had one. Then my kitten (rest his soul) got taken away by the coyotes and I learned a very important lesson about letting your cat outside, even if he is a ninja-devil-bright-eyes-in-the-sunshine-attackeralla cat before I actually moved in. Then I figured that since I was originally allowed a cat it would be no problem for me to catsit for my friend, so I did and then kinda got in trouble from my landlord so when I asked him later if I could get another cat (I needed a grieving period before I could just go and get another cat - I'm not heartless) he said NO. He actually said NO.
So long story short, I live in a totally shite basement suite that I quite dislike because I was searching for a place that would let me keep a pet, and now I'm not allowed to keep a pet. I mean, seriously?
So the game is ON. How am I going to convince him? Any ideas? I already had mice and tried to convince him that having a cat would help get rid of the mice, but he didn't go for it. I don't know what else to do! Subliminal messages? Haunting? Threats? He is planning on spending four months of the winter away, maybe I could just get a cat while he's gone and then tell him that I've had it all along. Hmmmm....
This morning, I choose to torture myself by looking up photos of kittens.
 |
| Ack! |
 |
| Oooooh! |
 |
| SERIOUSLY???? |
 |
| I literally just died. |
Okay, so my new goal in life is to get my landlord to let me have a kitten at all costs. Here's the sitch: I had a kitten when I was looking for the place and he said I could have one. The people who lived here before me also had one. Then my kitten (rest his soul) got taken away by the coyotes and I learned a very important lesson about letting your cat outside, even if he is a ninja-devil-bright-eyes-in-the-sunshine-attackeralla cat before I actually moved in. Then I figured that since I was originally allowed a cat it would be no problem for me to catsit for my friend, so I did and then kinda got in trouble from my landlord so when I asked him later if I could get another cat (I needed a grieving period before I could just go and get another cat - I'm not heartless) he said NO. He actually said NO.
So long story short, I live in a totally shite basement suite that I quite dislike because I was searching for a place that would let me keep a pet, and now I'm not allowed to keep a pet. I mean, seriously?
So the game is ON. How am I going to convince him? Any ideas? I already had mice and tried to convince him that having a cat would help get rid of the mice, but he didn't go for it. I don't know what else to do! Subliminal messages? Haunting? Threats? He is planning on spending four months of the winter away, maybe I could just get a cat while he's gone and then tell him that I've had it all along. Hmmmm....
Stating the obvious.
Internet advertisers: you are stupid.
When will you learn that anything you create that directly interferes with my ability to use and enjoy the website I've visited is not going to engender any goodwill towards your company? When my whole screen starts to go dark and a window floats into view, guess what? That's not cool animation or a classy way to introduce your product. That's a POP-UP AD. You know, those things everyone has blockers for now except that you've managed to sneak past the blocks with some kind of flash programming, and that does not make you clever, it just makes you more annoying.
Also, when it starts to snow on my screen or a giraffe's head pops up out of nowhere and I have to hunt around for the little "x" so I don't accidentally click you ad? That is also unpleasant.
I can't imagine how any of this advertising works on anyone, except that since spam ads for pharmaceuticals work (seriously, are you going to be psychotropic drugs from a spam artist? That sounds smart.), so I guess these are bound to work too.
Perhaps what I should really be doing instead of ranting to the advertisers who are stupid or hedging their bets, is appealing to the higher judgement of the populace that make these advertising ventures worthwhile. Educational reform perhaps? Brainwashing? What might work? Any suggestions?
When will you learn that anything you create that directly interferes with my ability to use and enjoy the website I've visited is not going to engender any goodwill towards your company? When my whole screen starts to go dark and a window floats into view, guess what? That's not cool animation or a classy way to introduce your product. That's a POP-UP AD. You know, those things everyone has blockers for now except that you've managed to sneak past the blocks with some kind of flash programming, and that does not make you clever, it just makes you more annoying.
Also, when it starts to snow on my screen or a giraffe's head pops up out of nowhere and I have to hunt around for the little "x" so I don't accidentally click you ad? That is also unpleasant.
I can't imagine how any of this advertising works on anyone, except that since spam ads for pharmaceuticals work (seriously, are you going to be psychotropic drugs from a spam artist? That sounds smart.), so I guess these are bound to work too.
Perhaps what I should really be doing instead of ranting to the advertisers who are stupid or hedging their bets, is appealing to the higher judgement of the populace that make these advertising ventures worthwhile. Educational reform perhaps? Brainwashing? What might work? Any suggestions?
(heart)
Beauty and happiness abound on this new blog I just found
An ode to love and kissing, there is very little that is missing.
Please check it out, it will make your day
Sadly it is heteronormative, sorry if you're gay.
http://kissssing.blogspot.com/
My world has been rocked by a pre-teen boy on the bus. EW - not like THAT!!!
This morning I was riding the bus to work, two stops away from my transfer point (oh Main and Broadway, what a wild world you are), when something crazy happened.
Let me set the scene a little bit better: I was on a bus full of late elementary or middle school aged children. (Do they do middle schools in Vancouver? I don't even know. They were just introduced in my boondoggle hometown when I was graduating high school.) Typically I am completely ageist and dread experiences like this. Really, busses full of any group of people that are not exactly like me fill me with a desire to recoil in horror: children, tweens, teenagers, young university students, and old people. I avoid them all like the age-stereotypical plagues that they become when they band together in groups. So needless to say, I was not excited about being on a morning bus full of young snot-monsters who think they're too cool to have snot but still actually have it all over their faces, all whilst squeeling at high pitches and yelling about whatever the new thing is that kids yell about. The bus was full and I was pushing as far back as I could to make room, all whilst burying my face in my book in desperate hope to avoid the terror of beholding such young and frightening faces.
This is when the story changes.
I look up and a boy has gotten out of his seat and is offering it to me.
May I repeat: a pre-teen aged boy offered me his seat on the bus.
What the what now, what is going on in this world??? This boy's gallant chivalry (and yes, fellahs, offering your seat on the bus to a lady does make her feel like you are gallant and chivalrous - see how it's actually not that much work to be a gentleman?) is forcing me to revisit my blatant stereotyping of the younger generations, and I just don't even know what to do about it. I mean, what's the universe trying to tell me? That I can't paint an entire group of people with one brush of distaste? That sounds ridiculous and scary.
Let me set the scene a little bit better: I was on a bus full of late elementary or middle school aged children. (Do they do middle schools in Vancouver? I don't even know. They were just introduced in my boondoggle hometown when I was graduating high school.) Typically I am completely ageist and dread experiences like this. Really, busses full of any group of people that are not exactly like me fill me with a desire to recoil in horror: children, tweens, teenagers, young university students, and old people. I avoid them all like the age-stereotypical plagues that they become when they band together in groups. So needless to say, I was not excited about being on a morning bus full of young snot-monsters who think they're too cool to have snot but still actually have it all over their faces, all whilst squeeling at high pitches and yelling about whatever the new thing is that kids yell about. The bus was full and I was pushing as far back as I could to make room, all whilst burying my face in my book in desperate hope to avoid the terror of beholding such young and frightening faces.
This is when the story changes.
I look up and a boy has gotten out of his seat and is offering it to me.
May I repeat: a pre-teen aged boy offered me his seat on the bus.
What the what now, what is going on in this world??? This boy's gallant chivalry (and yes, fellahs, offering your seat on the bus to a lady does make her feel like you are gallant and chivalrous - see how it's actually not that much work to be a gentleman?) is forcing me to revisit my blatant stereotyping of the younger generations, and I just don't even know what to do about it. I mean, what's the universe trying to tell me? That I can't paint an entire group of people with one brush of distaste? That sounds ridiculous and scary.
My conception of time in relation to emotion is effed up.
You know how days can fly up and down on the graph of awesome until you get all confused as to what it was really like? And whatever you're feeling at the moment somehow seems like the only important thing that happened that day and completely overshadows everything else. For example, today I went from feeling kind of mellow to satisfied to happy to great to productive to annoyed to really annoyed to hopeless to hopeless yet persistent to idiotic to tearful to bored to frustrated and pretty angry to happy. Since the last feeling in the list of feelings is happy, I look back and think "Yep, today was swell." When really, when you look over the list I think the negative emotions technically outweigh the positive ones (yes, I am too lazy to actually count them). And each phase of emotion feels like an entire experience, like a day in and of itself. So after my good morning of mellow satisfaction and happy productivity, I really felt like I had lived much more than a day's worth of activities and feelings. I was done. Then all the bad stuff started cropping up and suddenly the day was the worst day ever and all the good stuff felt like it was a week ago. But then it got happy again and THAT felt like a whole separate day once again that was completely unrelated to the bad stuff from before. So I've had at least 3 or 4 days already and I am just thinking about going to bed.
Actually, yes. I need to go to bed.
Okay, bye.
Actually, yes. I need to go to bed.
Okay, bye.
Lesson #2 of using an iPod Touch as your alarm
Check to make sure the volume isn't turned all the way down. Otherwise it's a tree falling in a forrest when no one's around - not waking anyone up. Which leads to a philosophical question for a newer generation: if an iPod plays a song, but its volume is turned down, does it make a sound? Answer: shut the EFF up, I'm late for work.
I'm BACK, dear lady friends!
Yeah, I haven't written in a while and yada yada well I'm not going to apologize, mother uckahs, because I haven't been writing because I have a life! So THERE!
Anyways, I'm sick today and went to work at 11:30 and left again at 3:30 so I guess I sort of have time to write now. Even though my friends are coming over soon to make dinner for us*, apparently, even though all I want to do is lie on this couch and watch Reality Bites while my aching sicky-muscles do their achey thing. Ah, life.
Today all I want to do is share the ice cream cake I ordered for my fellah for his birthday. Who's the best girlfriend in the world? I'm pretty sure that'd be me. I was really nervous that the folks at Dairy Queen would misunderstand my directions and the cake would come with a picture and the caption "Arrow with the name 'Ben' pointing at muscle man." Then, of course, it would have been fodder for Cake Wrecks.
I can't figure out why it's sideways - it's not sideways on my computer. Blogger is an idiot.
*Us = my roommates and I. We're all a bunch of friends and a big happy family, don'tcha know! Even though the dude roommate talks all the freaking time, even when I'm lying on the couch sick and writing a blog post about my aching sicky-muscles.
Anyways, I'm sick today and went to work at 11:30 and left again at 3:30 so I guess I sort of have time to write now. Even though my friends are coming over soon to make dinner for us*, apparently, even though all I want to do is lie on this couch and watch Reality Bites while my aching sicky-muscles do their achey thing. Ah, life.
Today all I want to do is share the ice cream cake I ordered for my fellah for his birthday. Who's the best girlfriend in the world? I'm pretty sure that'd be me. I was really nervous that the folks at Dairy Queen would misunderstand my directions and the cake would come with a picture and the caption "Arrow with the name 'Ben' pointing at muscle man." Then, of course, it would have been fodder for Cake Wrecks.
I can't figure out why it's sideways - it's not sideways on my computer. Blogger is an idiot.
*Us = my roommates and I. We're all a bunch of friends and a big happy family, don'tcha know! Even though the dude roommate talks all the freaking time, even when I'm lying on the couch sick and writing a blog post about my aching sicky-muscles.
Wendy's Training Music Video
The joy overfloweth! A 1990's Wendy's training video. They sing and rap about how to serve cold beverages. Doesn't it just motivate you to give great customer service?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)