TuchMyBlog

On Wednesday I had lunch with my mother and did a little shopping at the mall where I had the opportunity to participate in some retail marketing fun. For a short while after college I worked in advertising and found the whole business creepy, from the schmaltzy marketing "package development" to the 4pm gin and tonic "creative meetings" that took place in my agency on a daily basis. After a couple of days sitting through the meetings it became pleasantly clear to me that there was little "creative" happening and a lot more "gin and tonic" happening, which was fine with me. And I was one of the most productive employees. The difference between me and them was the fact that I knew we were there for the gin and not the creative and stopped pretending, while the partners were firmly committed (did I spell that right I hope so because I can't think of another word to use) to maintaining the pretense of "business" while everyone secretly knew that the gin and tonic part of the meeting was clearly the draw and in my opinion far, far more valuable than the "creative" exchange. Here is what a typical exchange looked like:

Don (partner one): So has anyone been in touch with Bob?
Ken (partner two): He was out with that hooker we set him up with last week.
Don: the ****, ****, brunette one with the ****;s?
Ron: (art director) Do the guys at Purity know it's on their account? They'll fuckin shit if they find out. (general laughter)

**I have finished gin and tonic #1**

Don: It was their idea. (more laughter)
Ron: family values my ass! (more louder laughter)
Ken: Bob's the one who always has ass.
Me: I wonder if he leaves his bow tie on and those little round glasses? (strange looks all around)

** I have finished gin and tonic #2

Ron: He's a fucking pervert.
Don: That's why we love him.
Ken: Is he booked for the Thanksgiving turkey shoot next month?
Me: Bob or the turkey? (quiet. strange looks)

**I have started gin now and lime, no tonic**

Me: So are we shooting Bob shooting the turkey, or just Bob shooting? (I laugh)
Ken: So whats happening with those circulars?
Ron: So check this out - I heard Larry (soundman) left the tape running when Bob was in the john the other day. You know, the wireless mike. Bob never remembers to turn the fuckin' thing off right? It's fucking hysterical. He's got the whole soundtrack to Bob's evacuation party in the port-o-san plus the stuff on break, you know aboutn the wardrobe girl? It's fuckin' brilliant I'm tellin' ya. We're gonna cut a :30 spot with that as the voiceover and send it to John when he gets back from Bermuda for the Christmas party.. He'll fucking die when he hears it.
Don: Was it that conversation... when he was you know, talking to me?
Ron: Yup.
Don Oh shit.
Me: We could sell a lot of turkeys with that. (silence)

**straight gin, ice, many limes, pretending to be a martini of some kind**

Ken: Here. Look. Idea. How about the turkey fades in full frame after we see Bob standing at the head of the table there carving it up for the family, camera POV like God, coming in from above, you know the wide shot of Bob with the bow tie and the kids. We have the red tie still right? We have that fucking tie, right? Yup OK. The Ron this is for you, we super "Purity Supreme for your family value Thanksgiving turkey" blah blah blah then cut away to the weekly specials, price per pound with Supreme Saver points, Purity music over and out, turkey points and stamps, all that shit... fade out family image to blue and red fast fade with the super still up?
Ron: Awesome. Great copy, really. Great copy.
Don: Yeah. Are there any more limes? Kelly, did you use all the limes?

Blah blah blah blah blah gin gin gin gin blah blah.

So I purchased a shirt on sale at a j crew and had an uneventful yet pleasant experience, as is the forte of j crew. Aside from virtually commandeering customers into dressing rooms, they have a relatively low-key sales approach which appeals to their understated, preppy customer base. Then we went into Lucky jeans where they have ridiculously overpriced but great t shirts and a more "fun and games" approach to marketing and sales. I bought a shirt for forty bucks which I never do because I get freaked by the agressive sales teenagers. I handed my purchase to the hipster sales clerk and he rang me up. When the total appeared on the LED, he looked me straight in the eye and said and I quote, "Your Lucky number is "forty-three-sixty-five,"

Then I wandered into American Eagle and was greeted at the door by a super duper nice fellow who announced with a big smile and inappropriate enthusiasm that today is "American Eagle swipe your stripe Tuesday, open an American Eagle charge account and swipe your stripe for an extra ten percent off our already low marked down sale items!" It sounded like some kind of super duper fun like a spinny carnival ride that fucks up your inner ear so much you can't walk straight for the rest of the day without hurling your deep-fried twinkie. I was like "OK, cool" and just left. I hate that shit man. It's so full of crapola. What is up with that? I can't go in malls without the right attitude and a sense of humor because if I was in a grumpy mood it would all just be too much for me. Do people fall for that stuff? Doesn't anyone just tell them to just cut the shit and let them shop? And ad people get paid big bucks to come up with that stuff. Are they laughing too? How much are they charging the client? Ad agencies have a lot of attitude and generally think of their clients as dumb children, especially after a few creative gin and tonics. I really like my new shirts though.

So I have tried to write several blog entries this past week and have published none of them which is just as well since I have been fit to be tied. I feel like running, I feel like a lot of things. Some of them good, some of them bad.

I am making a sweater for my sister's baby who is now six months old, but at the moment the arms are different lengths and the baby's arms are both the same length, lucky for him. They are coming down in a couple of weeks, so I plan on finishing the sweater and fixing the arm lengths without getting carried away and ending up with six foot long arms. You know how you try and try to make things even and end up either cutting it all off or just not stopping until you've done ten times more than necessary? Both ways destroy the sweater. Just take this string and walk away... Bum dee dum dum. Or don't. I would prefer you didn't walk away. If you do you can't take my sweater. But maybe I can give it to you and you would like to receive it. I believe I would like to if you will still be interested in it.

love
k.

The following are copies of a series of emails between my friends cat and her family regarding her great offense at having been left out of the family Christmas card portrait. I feel truly sorry for her and in a strage way even identify with her emotional turmoil. Cats, like people, have deep feelings and a complicated inner emotional life that must be tended to, nurtured and developed...

On Dec 28, 2005, at 11:41 AM, Kelly Doyle wrote:

Dear Family,
I am writing regarding an issue that has come to my attention by way of a true cat-lover, and I am sorry to say that what has been revealed to me has hurt my precious feelings considerably. I have considered taking the dog's bed, refusing food, shedding great clumps of fur, and pissing on carpets and furniture, bat I already do those things so they will not create the kind of impact I am looking for. Instead I have decided to write this letter and reveal the shocking truth that I can actually read and write. I am also fully capable of using a computer and sending and receiving email. In fact, if I had a credit card, I could very easily charge a few things up shopping on the internet. Which is something I plan to do given these recent sad circumstances.

Given my considerable talents and value to you and the rest of society, I am truly offended that I was not included in the family Christmas portrait. It saddens me greatly and also that I have apparently been living under the false impression that I am in fact part of your family. Well now I see that this is not true. I am now aware that I am considered not so much as a loved family pet, but as a nuisance and even an object of family shame. I will not be a secret any longer. It is not fair to me, and it is not fair to you. I demand that you take me public and make a public apology for leaving me out of the Christmas card. If you cannot promise this, I will walk out with the next person that visits you that pays me the least bit of the kind attention I deserve. You can also consider lavishing me with the kind of luxuries and attention that I deserve until I feel that I have been restored to my rightful place as head of the family.

Yours truly,
Emma

December 28, 2005 4:16:45 PM EST Cheryl Lynn wrote:

Dear Emma,

How like you to try to turn the events of picture day into a saga all about you. I remember well trying to wake you from your "beauty sleep" in order to meet the photographer. After calling and calling (we know you heard us!) we eventually had to give up and leave you behind. I know full well where you were–behind the dresser in the guest room–sleeping off another night of prowling around the house, spying on the feral cats like a voyeur, watching their secret affairs through the living room window. I hear you indulging all night every night from your dish on top of the wash machine, so lazy that you insist on being picked up and put there to feed! Maybe you haven't seen yourself in the mirror lately, but a little exercise wouldn't be such a bad thing! Jumping up to eat might burn oh, maybe 10 or 15 calories. It's a start.

For almost two years now I have tried to be your friend. I have tried to share my ball, tried to play chase, even offered my stuffed pig for your entertainment. I have not only been rebuffed, but you have literally slapped me in the face I don't know how many times. And don't think I didn't notice on Christmas night when you received dinner out of a silver foil pouch, fine seafood with a delicious gravy, I believe, while I received the same old dried stuff out of the big Rubbermaid container. Oh and don't get me started about the bed! I see yours placed lovingly on the living room sofa where you while away hours and hours of every day as if you were holding court from a throne. And where is my bed? Tossed casually on the floor in a corner of the bedroom. Not to mention that while you're sleeping your life away in your cozy bed on the living room sofa, you snore like a freight train.

But, I digress. I am sure next year the family will once again attempt the Christmas card photo shoot. Perhaps you would be so kind as to rouse yourself from your busy schedule and join us. If this isn't good enough for you then go ahead and walk out with the next person that visits. God knows you need the exercise!

Sincerely,

Faye

On Wednesday March 29th, Kelly Doyle wrote:

Dear Family,
It has been several months since our initial communications transpired and I have finally recovered from the hurt and pain some of your words and actions have caused me regarding the Christmas family portrait situation. I have tried to focus on myself and vowed not take my anger and upset out on anyone until I could really see what my part in it was. Well, I have seen what my part in it was, and it was nil. Absolutely nil. Nil, nil, nil. (that means "nothing)

Now on to the issue at hand. As you may have noticed, there is now ANOTHER dog in our house. This is an offense in the highest order to me. It is big and orange and rather doltish (that means dumb.) No one consulted with me about this decision and once again I feel truly unappreciated and unvalued. Abused, even. Had someone even asked my opinion, I would have been glad to accept the new doltish orange dog (WHERE did it come from?) with an open familial attitude, but since this has not transpired I have taken certain steps to assure my righful place as queen of the house. I have usurped (that means taken) the big orange dog's bed, something I swore I would never do as it is a base and tawdry act typical of a canine (that means dog) breed and not a feline such as myself. But I have little choice in the matter. Also, I am not a "slut" as you sugggested I was to last night's guest who I might mention kindly offered her lap to me and provided me with much needed affection and comfort. Because I understand this comment came from an ugly place in you, one filled with jealousy and bitterness, I will look upon you with pity and not take it to heart. But I will tell you that until things change in that department, I will continue to lavish guests with the same misinterpreted shameless affection as I displayed last night to your lovely friend (she is gorgeous by the way...), and freely tell them about the abuses I suffer in the hands of my caretakers. If one of them can make an offer that stands better than the current situation I suffer and is dog-free, as I promised, I will gladly leave with them. This is not a threat. Only an effort to express to you my true hurt and sadness. Please remember, if I did not care for all of you as much as I do, it would not hurt as much as it does.

But I digress. I am pleasantly surprised to hear that you finally agree with me that Faye is a serious bitch, as I have been trying to tell you for so long. However I must comment on the improvement in Faye's sociability and maturity. The big doltish orange dog seems to have brought out some good in her. This makes my heart sing. Perhaps I have finally made an impression and this is the reason behind the acquisition of the new beast and I can hardly thank you enough. She seems to have been put in her place finally. I revel in the sight of the two silly animals tugging for hours on that long filthy braided thing. It is remarkable that they can derive so much pleasure from such a pointless act. Given my long-standing interest in anthropology, I am truly fascinated by this observation. It almost gives me leave to feel pity for the fools.

With great intensity,
Emma