Commercial Appeal

Television is a favorite pastime of mine. I watch a lot of it. From old sitcoms (Frasier, Golden Girls, Friends, Reba) to dramas (Desperate Housewives, The O.C., One Tree Hill), to game shows, to the Disney Channel, to Lifetime, to... well this list is getting pretty long. Suffice to say, the only things that I don't watch are "Serious Things." In fact, when I was asked within the Human For Sale quiz how much T.V. I watched, I was forced to admit to myself that it was "excessive."

Now, because I watch so much television, I also watch commercials. I have a deep love for Billy Mays and OxiClean. We've gotten to be buddies as I sit on my couch and he shouts at me about the wonder of OxiClean and Orange Glo. I adore the Sham-Wow! man. I purchased a Strap-perfect, and it is one my deepest desires to own a Caulk Pro (I have no idea why, I just feel like it would make me happy every time I looked at the grout in my shower). There are certain commercials that I love and will stop whatever I'm doing to watch them. A prime example is the latest Minute Maid commercial:



Now, that commercial is hilarious. However, I won't lie and say that I love them all. The latest Father's Day commercial from Hallmark really irritates me.




Yay, Charlie. That card was so amazing that we must all now dance and cheer for you. Your mother picked out a card for you, probably helped you record it, and didn't bother to correct your grammar.

Dear Charlie's Momma, for future reference, "perfectest" is NOT a word. And maybe you should have just recorded it for him because it's beyond me how Dad could even tell what he's saying. I had to go to the internet to figure this one out.

And the award for the commercial that earns my undying odium more than any of the rest goes to Nutrisystem and Jillian Barberie. Congratulations.



Thanks, Jillian. Because when I make eye contact with someone and they gently lob me a football, I can't catch-it. In fact, I have absolutely no hand-eye coordination at all.

"How many girls can do that?"

Unless they are struck blind... then most of them.

Jenuinely yours,
Jen

"Humans, Getchyer humans!"

Have you ever comforted a friend with the expression: "He's not worth it?" Do you ever feel a supreme sense of self-worth?

Have you ever wondered just exactly how much someone is worth?

Well, thanks to a mildly entertaining website a friend told me about the other day, you can now find out!

Humanforsale.com will tell you, down to the dollar, how much someone is worth.

But be careful, for it does come with risks. As one friend of mine said, "I feel at minimum that I'm worth 3 million dollars and if it tells me something else, I'm going to be devastated." It's a good thing I don't share his mindset. I'm only worth $2,580,030.

So, watch those self-confidence levels... and have at it!


Jenuinely yours,
Jen

Narration Nation

I've been narrating lately.

This is something that I think I did a lot my junior and senior years of high school, back in the days when I did a lot of writing. I don't do it out loud... that would earn me strange looks and/or a beating like Peter gets from Lois. Especially if I spoke some of my sometimes insulting thoughts...



But it lends a sense of power to my otherwise mediocre day. "I got up and peed" sounds so boring. "Jennifer Ashley" (yes, that's right, I subconsciously middle-name myself. I sound more important as "Jennifer Ashley" than as "Jen"). "Jennifer Ashley rose from the couch and lengthened her spine-- like a cat stretching after a particularly restful nap. She absently shook her foot, pins and needles racing up it. She rotated her head, scratched at her side and made her way to the bathroom to relieve the pressing ache in her bladder." It just sounds so much more important.

I hope I don't start to think out loud like this. That might be embarassing.

Jenuinely yours,
Jen

Preschool Pariahs

Let me start this with a disclaimer:

I like kids. Really. I do. I’ve been a camp counselor, volunteer, baby-sitter, coach… I could honestly keep going but the list gets long. I hope to have a couple little tots of my very own one day.

That said, I want to talk about my growing hatred for my neighbor’s children.

Dear supposedly responsible parents:

I understand that your husband (or wife, I’m not gender-biased here) probably has a job and you are stuck at home with your bundles of joy turned holy terrors all day long. I understand that they probably wake you at all hours of the night: “Mommy, my tummy hurts,” “Daddy, I want a drink of water,” “There’s a monster in my closet,” “There a noise under my bed.” I’m sorry for that too. I’m sure that you, through no fault of your own, are forced to awaken around seven or eight o’clock in the morning and deal with the little barbarians.

But let me explain something to you. While you tucked your little ones into bed at nine last night, stayed up one hour longer and then retired for the evening yourself, I was awake. I was studying. I was writing, reading, taking quizzes, tests... the point is I was being a good student. It's hard! And often lasts until the wee hours of the morning. So, by the time, I fall into bed at two or three, your sweethearts are going to be waking you up in about four hours.

I admire you for getting out of bed then. Really, I marvel at your strength. But when, at 8:30 in the morning, you let them out onto your patio for a little rest for yourself... guess what? Now they're my problem. Now, I'm the one shoving a pillow over my ears as her blood-curdling screams and his unholy cackles fill the air and make it into my upstairs bedroom. Seriously, what are they doing out there because these aren't any little shrieks of surprise?! I'm talking a full-on, "Mommy-Bobby-tripped-over-a-rusty-rake-it-went-into-his-tummy-and-now-there's-blood-everywhere" kind of terrified scream.

I'm reasonable. I understand that you need your breaks. But I need my sleep.

So, as a compromise, I suggest this:

Think about it.

Jenuinely yours,
Jen