I had fake eggs this morning and just realized the mug I grabbed out of the break room in which to nuke said eggs is a Spike TV mug.
The little images go all the way around the mug so here is a complete list for you to see just what kind of awesome manly things for men you're missing out on by not being able to see the entire mug.
- a Jack and an Ace from a deck of cards
- an odometer
- a Nintendo game controller
- brass knuckles
- a golf cart
- an arcade game controller (I think. It's a joystick and little red buttons...arcade controller, oui?)
- foosball men
- an overflowing beer mug
- a big ol' truck on big ol' wheels
- a woman with her legs spread wide, glancing back over her shoulder in that pose that is allegedly super sexy
- a joystick
- a martini
- a motorcycle
- a gun
- dice
- a hotel key (Rm 2, to be exact)
- a car
- what I believe to be a gas can?
- a hammer
- a pack of matches
- a sneaker
- a guy with his leg up (I'm assuming he's a kick boxer. Ya know, the sport of the future)
Fear not, this post isn't going to revolve solely (ha!) around my need for new athletic footwear but the fact I'm still wearing a pair of sneakers with a giant hole in the bottom of the left one *is* what inspired this post.
I don't generally care for sneakers. I only wear them to and from work and when I go to the gym. Truth be told, I hate footwear in general. Have you ever heard of bras being referred to as "boobie zoos"? That's much how I feel about shoes. Foot zoos. Hate 'em. But much like math, it's a necessary evil. So, I buy sneakers.
Over the years, I've mainly purchased Nike sneakers because when I spend the good hour or two it takes me to purchase one lousy pair of shoes, I simply wind up feeling the most comfortable in their shoes. But there has always been that nagging little voice in my head telling me to buy a different brand because of Nike's alleged repeated asshattery, such as their piss poor child labour laws and the likelihood that little Tommy and Tammy were paid $.05 for every eight pairs of shoes they produced while I'm forking over close to $100 a pair. But I have a really difficult time with boycotting.
Everyday, companies are in the news for one reason or another, often with bad press. Most recently, I gave up Starbucks for a bit because of their lousy-ass handling of a teenager's sexual assault claim. What did I get this morning on my way into work? A tasty little nonfat white mocha with raspberry. Back in 2006, the Marriott Hotel chain was in the news for claiming a woman who was raped at gunpoint in front of her children was to blame. Have I stayed in a Marriott since then? Indeed. Is it fairly likely I'll stay in a Marriott again? It is. Obviously, there are far more instances of companies using questionable practices and my continued patronization of those companies. But if I boycott every company whose practices I disagree with, I'm going to be left on the Wells St. bridge asking for change right alongside the guitar playing homeless guy. Although, I *will* take this opportunity to let you know, Mr. Polanski, that I very much would enjoy seeing The Ghost Writer. But I'm going to take that entertainment hit and let your film fall into the "ain't never gonna happen" category because I can't stomach even a penny of my money finding its way back to you.
But back to Nike. After everyone's favourite hoops-throwing rapist had his case dropped, Nike was the first company to 'take him back.' The only people who know what happened in that Denver hotel room are Kobe and his accuser but my default is to believe a victim. But no matter whether he raped that woman or not, his first post-rape case commercial for Nike was this:
In it, we see him shooting hoops and hear his voice telling us, Love me or hate me; it's one or the other. Always has been. Hate my game, my swagger. Hate my fade away, my hunger. Hate that I'm a veteran. A champion. Hate that. Hate it with all your heart. And hate that I'm loved for the exact same reasons.
Feel free to call me a humourless prude of a feminist but that shit just rubs me the wrong way. If you were, to say, Google some of his earlier commercials, you'll (hopefully) notice quite a difference between those and the latter ones after his case was dropped.
And there's Tiger's new craptastic commercial.
Cue Tiger looking all sad and lonely while looking at the camera and listening to his dead father say, "Tiger, I am more prone to be inquisitive. To promote discussion. I wanna find out what your thinking was. I wanna find out what your feelings are. And, did you learn anything?"
While I don't believe Kobe had consensual sex with the woman who accused him of rape, from what's been told to the public, Tiger *did* have consensual sex with his mistresses. Sure, he's a massive asshat with a serious Madonna / Whore complex (Tiger, if you're reading, here's a tip: the women dudes want to fuck? They can be the very same women dudes also want to marry. They need not be separate.) but I don't give a flying golf ball what or who Tiger sticks his dick in, provided it's a consensual act. Even so, I think Nike's ad is in piss poor taste and it gives me the creeps.
And now, we've got this Major Douchenozzle, Ben Roethlisberger. Yet again, he's been accused of sexual assault (that's three times, for those who are keeping track). Even if I allowed for the "bitches always put out, feel regret and then cry rape" argument (which I don't), exactly how many women is it going to take before it's acknowledged this guy has a serious entitlement complex? No criminal charges does not equal innocence and in the very least, Roethlisberger is a fratboy-esque jock who spends his free time drunkenly pawing at women. But it's no surprise that Nike continues to stand by him.
Once, twice, three times you've proved yourselves to be a company of jagoffs, Nike. Remember when you suspended Michael Vick because of his love of vicious dog fighting? Yeah, me too. I'm no marketing executive or genius business woman but wouldn't it just be cheaper to put out a press release stating "Nike believes 100% that dogs are man's best friend. Cruelty and abuse toward animals will be taken very serious and the abusers will be punished. Abuse and disrespecting women? Eh, we're gonna go ahead and let those slide."
Because there is a great deal of Golden Girls awesomeness that I would like in my possession.
Last year, Santa didn't bring me the bag I wanted. But perhaps this year, he'll realize just what a good girl I am and reward me with this little beauty right here. Or maybe I'll just shell out the $6.95 and reward myself.
If you look closely, you'll notice the pendant is made from a Scrabble tile. I want my girls on the front and the letter G, which is worth 2 points, on the back, please.
Golden. Girls. G squared!
I've. Gotta. Get.
EDIT: Well, fuck me right on their wicker furniture. It sold out today.
I'm a bit conflicted about this OB tampon ad, which was created by an all-male creative team in Switzerland. (clickety click)
On one hand, I'm a member of the "vampires are hot" camp. Biting. Fear. Pain. Yes please. I also like that the ad is an acknowledgement that once a month, blood comes out of a vagina. I have a very low tolerance for ads relating to menstruation that have nothing to do with the purpose of the product they're selling. In the case of tampons, it's to absorb blood. I don't want to see women frolicking around doing gymnastics or watch a woman swimming. Just give me the facts about what the product is going to do. Much like birth control pills. Sure, they often help with one's complexion and for those who get uncharacteristically emotional in the days right before their periods, it can help make you feel like you're in a bit more control of your feelings. And sure, there are plenty of women who take the pill for regulating their periods and / or any other number of female health concerns that don't have to do with preventing pregnancy. But for the most part, the purpose of birth control pills is to prevent yourself from getting knocked up. Yet very few commercials or advertisements for birth control actually say anything that even vaguely sounds like, "if you take this pill every day, you can fuck without reproductive consequences." And I think they should.
I also don't believe the act of going down on a woman who has her period is icky and gross. I understand it may not be everybody's cuppa tea and that's fine...to each his / her own. But I don't believe there's a week out of every month where certain sex acts are off the table. Hell, survey a group of women who are all days away from their period and quite a number of them are going to tell you their overtime-working hormones are partly responsible for desperately wanting to throw their legs up behind their heads and engage in any and all sex acts. So I love the fact that a bunch of men came up with this ad and I'm sure, at some point in their brainstorming session, realized it may evoke thoughts or images of oral sex while a girl is having her period.
On the other hand, vamp teeth made of tampons? Please. Those things aren't going to pierce anything and everyone knows a vampire isn't just gonna dive in and start sucking. He's going to bite, get an artery and go to town. So the whole "tampon as teeth" thing is just silly. And just makes me giggle.
Which, I suppose, may have been the intention. And if that's the case, then the advertising fellas have succeeded. Where they haven't succeeded is in giving me even one reason, if I were a purchaser of tampons, to buy OB's brand instead of any of the other brands.
And isn't that pretty much the main objective of the advertising world?
I'm nearly peeing my panties with glee that I've finally found out what exactly is causing that pesky little high divorce rate and bringing about the descruction of masculinity and those good ol' traditional, "get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich, sweetie!" values.
Seriously. Soon, I'm gonna have to start hoping I'm in a LOST-esque plane crash that leaves me with nothing but the earth and my own ingenuity with which to survive.
Since I can't think of a single corporation in the world that values anything about me other than the money in my purse, that's the only way I ever really feel like I can give them a big, fat "fuck right the fuck off, big evil company!"
So dearest Amazon, my letter should be arriving shortly. But even before that...and long after that...my money no longer will be.
My semi-addiction to all things scentastic finally caused me to cave and try out Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. And if I could sit around all day just smelling myself, I would. Because I want to make sweet, sweet (yet dirty) love to my oils. Today, I'm wearing Lolita, a lovely mix of "glittering heliotrope, honeysuckle, orange blossom and lemon verbena," which makes me feel very...subtly sexy and summery. Tomorrow, I'll test out the Bordello, which smells fucking fantasic in the little vile and hopefully the "bawdy plum with amaretto, burgundy wine and black currant" will smell just as tasty on me. Then, I'll try Perversion, which doesn't smell as much like I thought it would in the vile but once it's on skin, could always be a bit different. 'Cause really, "smoky rum and black tobacco with a whisper of steamy leather with a splash of crystalline chardonnay, layered over a sensual, sweet, and deceptively magnetic base of tonka" has got to be good. The others don't smell particularly fantastic in their viles but I'll try those later too and see.
And now, I twiddle my thumb for the next 8-ish hours or so. Joy.
