flotsam friday

I rarely agree with conservative groups agitating over our degrading morals, but this bunch bitching about how marital sex doesn’t get nearly the bump adultery does on TV strikes a chord. Because it’s not just the sex that’s portrayed as dismal—it’s marriage itself.

To quote myself:

…long-term relationships are most often portrayed as stultifying, tainted by seething resentments and unspoken disappointments.

Granted, there is some truth to the challenges of keeping marriage fresh, but long-term does have rewards. They're rarely explicitly portrayed in pop culture, though. Instead, we get Frank and Marie Barone, lobbing insults at each other. Or, more currently, Don and Betty Draper, going through the motions while Don gets his kicks in the big city and Betty gets hers on a horse.

Where are my role models, please?

***

This USA Today story addresses what women already know—the dressing room is a terrible, terrible place. I was kind of relieved to read that I’m not the only woman who has ever cried in a dressing room. It happened at The Gap, where I discovered that I am grossly deformed according to the standards of their designers.

How ‘bout bathing suit shopping? Most bathing suit makers seem to have no idea at all how women are put together.

Once, after a particularly demoralizing 30 minutes trying on bathing suits in Dillard’s, a saleswoman noticed how depressed I looked when I stepped out.

“It’s not you,” she said. “It’s the clothes.”

I will love that woman forever.

***
I haven’t mocked press releases for a while so here are some excerpts that made me slump.

This one arrived today:

Holiday shopping, a busy travel schedule and dry winter weather. Feeling overwhelmed yet? Recharge and get in the spirit with the enticing scent of cranberries in XXXXXXX wash and lotion.

This refreshing duo provides the perfect pick-me-up for tired hands and feet. Integrate them into your daily beauty regime to soothe seasonal stress. Festive XXX puts the “happy” back in front of holidays.


I understand that they’re pitching in time to make it into magazine holiday round-ups, but no, I’m not feeling overwhelmed yet and I don’t want to get into the spirit. I want to make it through the last of summer.

I am of the opinion that press releases should never ask questions because when they do, my answer is almost always, "No."

How about:

2008 is a year all about POWER, the struggle for it (politically), the display of it (athletically), and the conservation of it (economically and environmentally). This fall, XXX launches its olfactive answer to the question of what is power and how is it being redefined by modernity.

In an unprecedented partnership with prolific Japanese designer and art director of XXX proposes a powerful new identity for masculinity, one centered on simplicity, honesty, and an imaginary flower.

I don’t know which I like better, the “olfactive answer to the question of what is power” or “simplicity, honesty, and an imaginary flower.” Actually, this release is so ludicrous, it’s compelling.

I have to leave the product name in here because it’s part of the joke. The lame joke:

If you have commitment phobias, Sircuit has a product that will make you say Eye Dew!

This also arrived today:

With the winter months beating down upon us, it’s crucial that we prepare, protect and hydrate to keep our skin healthy all year round.

I just realized that they probably meant bearing down not beating down. At least I hope so.

Nothing wrong with this pitch, it just gets a shout-out for the unnecessary quotation marks:

As you are probably are aware, one of the "hottest" topics in the health, family, youth and beauty arenas right now is the safety and performance of sun block products.

And here’s one working much too hard:

Whether you are climbing the side of a mountain, kayaking through a canyon, or snorkeling off the coast, outdoor adventures render picturesque moments that deserve to be displayed and remembered. Present the moments you capture along the journey in a XXX.

XXX has just recently announced the XXX, a premium, hard-bound digital photo book. By simply uploading digital photos, XXX technology allows users to organize photos and preserve memories—like the time the canoe flipped— in the form of professional-looking photo book.

If the canoe flipped, would you really have photos? Or would you have a ruined digital camera? OK, presumably someone else’s canoe flipped … I’ll allow it. But it seems such a non sequitur…

***

Thanks to FrontBurner for finding this video, of a drunk and giddy Kelly Clarkson at a Red Sox game:



I've always like Kelly Clarkson and now I like her even more.

And thanks to Very Short List for this oddly moving and simply odd little film that puts a balloon into famous movie scenes. I don’t know why I was compelled to watch all six-plus minutes but I couldn’t stop.

flotsam friday!

First of all, a day of cleaning and show music worked wonders. While I’m still not sure what to do next with my life, I am quite sure it remains worth living. Shall we dance? (One, two, three and…By the way, I used to keep a postcard of this photo of Yul Brynner on my bulletin board just ‘cause he was so damn hot.)

So, let’s get flotsam!

* Last night I saw a TV ad for a re-release of the Disney classic 101 Dalmations, which was touted as a perfect Easter gift. Um, since when is Easter a gift-giving occasion? Peeps. Peeps and chocolate bunnies. Those are Easter “gifts.” Let’s nip this in the bud right now.

* Product news release of the week:
Before you go to the restroom spray - POO POURRI

You think I could make that up? No, my friends, this genuine new product (being promoted by “Pillowcase PR—we’ve got you covered!”)

Basically, you spray this stuff into the bowl before you foul it and, "...essential oil proprietary formula creates a film on the toilet water surface, effectively trapping embarrassing odors.”

"Imagine . . . Not only not leaving odor behind but also not experiencing any odor while using the restroom. Could it get any better than that? People have said that this product has actually transformed their bathroom experience, and you know what we’re talking about."

Actually, the young woman in the photo here looks like she trapped her embarrassing odors by slamming the lid down and sitting on it. Or, considering the hat, it’s entirely possible her shit don’t stink.

* Which brings me to my next flotsam, this article about a young man in South Pasadena who managed to initiate a No Cussing Week in his town for the first week of March.

You may have noticed that I really enjoy profanity. Sure, lots of people consider it refuge for mini-minds but I can live with that. I’m comfortable with the size of my vocabulary and my intellect. But I enjoy “bad” words. I just do.

I have my standards—I’m not fond of motherfucker but I will toss out an occasional mofo, just for fun. I’m not crazy for cunt, but if I use it you can bet I really hate the bitch. And I do try to restrain myself in company who might be offended, although Mary assures me that my “screwed things up”—tossed out at dinner the other night with a bunch of her church friends---didn’t ruffle a feather. I think that’s the worst I spewed that night…

* How ‘bout these animals, competing in Amsterdam’s stiletto run. I can barely walk in those things…

* I enjoyed this column in my paper today about soul-killing teachers.
Man, who hasn’t had one (or more) of those? I love that this writer dared call them out.

* And finally, apropos to nothing, here’s a fascinating NYT article about the décor in therapists’ offices.

One of my longtime shrinks had a generic print of a Paris street in her office that was poorly framed and slipping in its frame. This picture framer’s wife could barely stand looking at it. Another, who I ended up breaking up with for various reasons, had framed on her wall the famous Saul Steinberg New Yorker magazine cover, View of the World from 9th Avenue. The print came up when I was ending our relationship because, I pointed out, this was a type of parochialism I left New York to escape. It just annoyed me. (So I moved to Texas, where no parochialism exists...)

My last therapist had hanging by her window what, after many months in her office, I realized was supposed to be angel wings, not lungs, as I’d always thought without giving it too much thought. She also had a quietly burbling fountain somewhere in the office. I always thought it was plumbing somewhere deep in the walls.

Well, that’s it for now. If any other flotsam drifts through my mind, you’ll be the first to know. But really, I should get something done today.