Advertising

First off, I'd just like to say that I'm tired of seeing Beyonce in commercials. I would go out of my way not to buy something or use a service because she's advertising it, I'm that tired of her. I see more of her than my wife, and I'd kick my wife out if she were shilling products at me all the time rather than just giving them to me.

Speaking of advertising...I hate the Bed Head commercials on television. The ones that warn you that you must have a sense of humor to use their styling tools, and then they show you a commercial that's not funny in any way. Is that the joke? That there's no joke? I don't think so - they don't seem that clever. Take their website (please) which states, "Doesn`t matter if you are a Dumb Blonde or a Mastermind, a Manipulator or Creative Genius ........ we have shampoos, conditioners and styling tools to complete your lifestyle." That's not funny. It's not even creative. And it really doesn't even have anything to do with their styling products. You could say the same damn thing about the five-year old blue bristle brush and bottle of coconut-smelling Suave in my bathroom (Klund can vouch for that - he used our bathroom and it had exactly the tools for making him look like a stay-at-home father of four. Then his wife used it and came out looking like a mother and dentist! And you have a sense of humor to use my shower, because I'm damn well going to blog about it). Dig through the Big Head site - it doesn't get any funnier. There are a bunch of young, thin, serious-looking models just posing, not having any fun or joking at all. You can't just create a corporqte slogan, and then not actually do anything around that slogan. Otherwise everyone does it. I'm going to adopt the slogan, "You have to engage Scott in a good mood, or he'll put you in one." It's not true, but I'm forcing the expectation back on you to be good natured all the time, or to feel guilty when dealing with me and not ending up in a good mood, even when I'm an ass. I think several of you could attest to the unreasonableness of that expectation, particular if I made your meme as the rudest person you know (which may be a lie, Mean Mr. Mustard - I think you know a coworker who is ruder than I am. Perhaps not in person, but given her blog content. Maybe my in-person rudeness is weighed more heavily?). It's obviously more reasonable to say "Scott's usually good natured, but he can be irritating, more so then others." Truth in advertising.

I also got the most recent World Cycling Productions catalog today - the holiday verison. They always have things I think are interesting. Tour videos. Cycling posters. T-shirts. Clothes and packs. They're Minnesota based and they even sell Twin Six merchandise (which I am desirious of - a good present option). But they had two things in the catalog which amused me.

One, this Books Limited Edition Swallow Classic Saddle. $699.95. That's more than my last bike, with rack, speedometer, replacement speedometer after I lost one in the Mississippi River, packs, bottle racks, bottles, and a host of other items. There's not even a $10 off coupon on the back of the catalog. Have you ever felt one of these? It's as hard as a rock. Think about a thin bit of cow stretched over a rock and mounted to your seat post. Given that they're real leather and designed by bicycling gnomes harvested from the same place Willy Wonka found the Oompa Loompas, they no doubt become intimately moulded to your ass after a lengthy period of bicycling, but that break-in period has to be killer on the boys. And I wouldn't be willing to leave my saddle anywhere if it cost that much. I'd be popping it off and carrying it around, perhaps mounting it to my workseat like we did for my coworker Jill before she went on RAGBRAI.

Two, these Pearl Izumi Women's Vertex Microsensor Bibshorts. Bibshorts are funny all by themselves, although less so on women then on men with a beer gut. I've lost track of the times I've been subjected to some old geezer wandering around my bicycling area with no jersey and bibshorts, the stomach sort of draped over the waist-high opening. And don't even get me started on my friend Mike and his hot pink bibs that he wore into our shared workplace. But what strikes me as funny with this picture is that it's the only one in the catalog where the model looks sort of pissed. Like she's looking off frame at the photographer or company rep and thinking, "I cannot believe you made me wear this stupid thing. Am I the model you picked solely because my belly button is at the right height to be framed by the bibs? You better not tell me we're leaving the building for lunch."

Maybe Seal needs some bibs (via Rocky Hillside quoting the SF Gate):

Q: What's it like to wake up next to a supermodel every day?

A: I don't know, but waking up next to Heidi is incredible. She's my best friend. She's my lover. She's my wife. She's the mother of my children.

Q: She could also be your publicist after talking about the size of your package on "Oprah."

A: There you go. That's my wife.
. . .

Q: . . . So do you recommend that other men who can't get dates wear bicycle shorts and walk around hotel lobbies?

A: It seemed to work for me.