What exactly is this ad saying? I have breasts so I'm not smart enough to read The Economist? I show a lot of cleavage so I don't have to be smart to get what I want? I wear a Wonderbra so every man is at my beck and call? I'm a stupid female that thinks my breasts are more powerful than my brain? OK, maybe that last one's kinda true for some but still. Perhaps Linda Foster is just so cool for wearing a Wonderbra that intelligence like The Economist are just beneath her. Maybe the Wonderbra is so effective it makes her breasts so huge see can't see over them to read the magazine. Please. Explain this ad to us.
We are so sick of all this Julie Roehm crap. Oh wait. No we're not. Are you kidding? Of course we're not. This is great shit to write about. So now she's suing Wal-mart for breach of employment contract and demanding the return of certain files and items from her office such as paint and a step ladder she left in her office. Aside from all the boring legal crap, perhaps the best line in the entire Advertising Age article about this latest chapter in the saga is, "Among the changes Ms. Roehm effected during her 11-month tenure at Wal-Mart: She painted her office." Classic. Priceless. Hilarious.
While she has concerns over what she believes is money owed her according to her contract, when she appeared today at a panel on the worth of Super Bowl advertising, she said her Wal-Mart dismissal was a "blessing." Certainly a strange comment to make on the eve of issuing a lawsuit against the employer that delivered that "blessing." Oh whatever, so the saga continues, wasting bit and bytes off online press space and killing trees all to regurgitate the same old crap: she wasn't a fit for Wal-Mart and they canned her ass. Get over it. Move on.
For all you perverts out there. Oh wait. Sorry. That's just us. And maybe the dude over at Where's my Jetpack who had some fun playing with Land O Lakes butter. No, not the product you sickos. The packaging. Apparently way bakc in the 30's, the designer of the packaging, Jess Betlach thought he'd have some fun by adding the visual hint or female aureola/nipple to the Indian woman's knees. The knees, you ask? Well, according the Where's My Jetpack, thousands of boys would cut the knees off, cut a whole where the Indian woman is holding the product and insert the image of the knees thus creating the illusion of an Indian woman holding her bare breasts.
Remember, this was before Playboy. Before Juggs. Before the Internet. Before National Geographic, perhaps. Apparently, a guy had to so what he had to do to get his daily moment of satisfaction. Humorously, Where's My Jetpack promises to post Land O Lakes' cease and desist when it arrives.
Oh this is beyond good. This is genius. If we could all leave our jobs this way, a career in advertising would be a very satisfying experience. Imagine getting back at all your idiotic asshole co-workers you had to deal with during your stay at the agency. Imagine pulling a knife on that fat ass, know-it-all account director that made you do all his work. Imagine cutting the nads of that smarmy jerk in accounting who couldn't keep his eyes off your breasts. Of course, they are huge and bulging out of your cleavage-enhancing tops all the time but that's besides the point. Imagine TBWA\CHIAT\DAY Executive Creative Director Chuck McBride murdering all the employees in the San Francisco before he leaves to start his own agency. Imagine...oh wait...it's just a spoof YouTube video. Everything's going to be OK.
We're not really sure why, and we wish it weren't that nauseating colour, but French artist Philippe Meste wants to create the biggest boxful of sperm ever.
The Spermcube seeks a fill of no less than one ton of human sperm, so if you can't get your 15 megabytes of fame then at least your little soldiers can when you make a donation. For those financially inclined and less biologically so, Meste also provides the option of becoming a shareholder via PayPal.
No words in English to describe our feelings about this one, so we'll shoot for the French: c'est degoulasse. Is it wrong for us to wonder about the smell?
The Fame Game, an all-online talent show where the talented and not-so-talented vie monthly for money and stars, enlists Cake to create a catchy viral. The result? Kitchen Diaries.
For a good Electro Funk Daddy Superstar Break, a quirky beat-boxing chef throws together a satisfying ingredient list of ripped noises. After creating an awesome break, he recommends nixing the fish (a popular addition) and sticking the mixture in an oven to bake for three years at 700 degrees.
Awesome work and a tasty listen. Take a look at the wannabes who've already jumped on board. We recommend you not skip the Elvis impersonator who beat-boxes on the john. Definitely pimp-throne worthy, yeah?
We know Microsoft wants us all to think its new Zune MP3 player is the MP3's answer to social networking what with its questionably easy method of song sharing and such . What we didn't know was just how social the staid monolith would get in order to convey its apparently very friendly social skills. Look at this banner ad for Zune found on Metacritic and ask yourself exactly what this particular sort of social activity has do to with song sharing. And before all you conservative types jump out of your seat and scream "Adrants goes for cheap salaciousness again!", ask yourself why Microsoft or the art director behind this creation cold not have chosen from 3 million other shots of a woman making love to a microphone before choosing this image which alludes to an entirely different kind of love making. Click the image to increase the size of the love making.
We stood behind Rosie after that Donald Trump nonsense. We like that she stuck by what she said even when the Trumpster threatened to fling a lawsuit in her direction on one of his ninja-star toupees. But this makes us feel funky about her.
Kimberly-Clark hits The View to push their room makeover sweepstakes. Rosie gets exhaustively excited and right when we think she can't look more insane she does a Broadway number complete with dancing K-C products. And that's not something we could have made up even if we tried really, really hard.
Rosie, we hate to be the ones to tell you, but you're not funny anymore. We can't remember whether you ever really were. You're a bit cartoony. And not in a neat Jim Carey way. You're more like, well, that Roger Rabbit villain who tried to kill the other cartoons with Dip.
He gave us the horrors. And these days, you do too.
Here's a weird one. Sinless gets behind Bar Code designs, an odd project in which people can flirt and hook up with a form of sign language for those too cool - or simply too lame - to talk or offer to buy somebody a drink.
Bar Code sends registered users a new sign to learn every week or so. We registered for the list but are thus far pretty skeptical. It reminds us a little of Esperanto, that experiment in universal language that was supposed to bring cosmopolitan travelers together but is mainly utilized by awkward people trying to shortcut learning an actual native tongue.
Dissemination of the hipster signs depends on word of mouth but we don't see it working unless a critical mass is already out there using it. Otherwise those willing to get savvy will just be out there with limbs akimbo, monkeying an artificial social langue only they and maybe five other people in the universe understand, which gives us something new to laugh about, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. For us, anyway.
Clean Butt is the spankin' new concept site for BidetSpa, which specializes in, well, bidets. We don't know who in America buys bidets but we found the Clean Butt URL catchy and amusing.
There are features on the site we're dying to check out but can't because either the site or our internet is misbehaving this morning. But how can you not want to explore a link marked Toilevator? Or Bidet Spa with Wireless Remote? We feel like Alice slamming her head into the Looking-Glass to no avail. They're killing us here!