Bears Do NOT Use Toilets

One semester in college, I took a course in advertising.  I wanted to learn the basics of why we see (and hear) what we hear (and see) on television.  I don't recall why I chose this exact course, perhaps my parents had said something about me watching too much TV.  (If they didn't, they should have.)

All these maaaaany years later, I still notice more about advertising because of that course.  I notice colors, sooundtracks and actions that subtly (and not-so-subtly) drive home the message we're supposed to get.

So when I see ads that show cartoon bears who don't shit in the woods and have problems using toilet paper, I make a note to never, ever buy that product because I find their line of advertising distasteful and stupid.  There were many ways they could've gotten their message across - this wasn't a good choice.

When I hear ads that feature insipidly sweet-voiced singers telling us to drink their magic pink beverage for an energy boost and they'll donate to the Susan G. Komen Foundation, I get irritated at the overall stupidity of the agency who got the account.  Having lots of energy (and being pink, for that matter) has - trust me on this - NOTHING to do with cancer.

And while we're at it, showing your sports car skidding sideways across the TV doesn't show me how cool and sleek your car is.  It shows me you've designed a product that can go fast and lose control at the same time, even with a professional driver behind the wheel.  So thanks, but I'll pass.

Lately there's been advertising for Microsoft Internet Explorer 9.  I know it's for IE9 ONLY because I just looked it up.  It could have been for a laptop or a video game or an animated series.  Anyway, the ad shows all the cool things you can do, create, watch, post, find, and listen to using their product.  My issue is the soundtrack.  Yes, having  thumping, energetic background music was a good call.  But did anyone in the agency listen to the lyrics?

"And it feels like I am just too close to love you", warbles the singer.  Wait so I'm supposed to LOVE IE9?  We're just being introduced.  And yet I'm already too close and I can't love it?

"There's nothing I can really say", continues the song.  Isn't IE9 supposed to help me communicate better?  And now I can't say anything at all because I'm too close?  Or don't love it?  Wait- what?

"I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more, got to be true to myself".  So letsee - pre-IE9, I was lying and hiding and faking myself out with other products?  And now, with IE9 (which, again, I'm too close to and can't love) I can be real and honest.  That's convoluted, at best.

"And it feels like I am just too close to love you, so I'll be on my way" which very much makes it sound like I don't get to use IE9 and I'm walking away without it.  The exact opposite thing the advertiser wants me to do.

While it's not part of the advertising being aired currently, later in the lyrics is "I must leave without you.  You know we're headed separate ways."  Nice going, Microsoft - way to get your customer base locked down.

Now the old Meow-Mix ads ... THERE was some great advertising.  Gosh, those were talented felines ...

The "Tom" Update

I haven't visited here in awhile and realize that I haven't updated myself on where "Tom" is at, recovery-wise.

Oh, he is SUCH a love.  He greets me each time I come through the door with a few grunt-style "meow" noises.  He then winds around my feet while I stumble to his food bowl for refilling.  (It always needs refilling.)  He gets a few strokes on his head and back while he chows down and then I head towards the couch to let him have some time alone to dine.  When he decides to take a break, he slowly struts over to me, nudges my feet, and then hops onto the couch beside me.  He lets me inspect his leg (which is completely recovered but very bald still) and then the grooming can begin.  Every now and again, I'll tell him what a great cat he is and he'll purr for a bit and then it will be nap time.

The plan of attack is that one of our two rescue cats will be relocated to their "forever home".  If it is Tom, he will go to his new home with a carrier, whatever food is left, his cat toys, a few towels (that have his scent) and his medical records (including his rabies tag) ... but I'll need to have whomever takes him to PROMISE me he'll be a strictly-indoor cat and that he'll be "fixed".  It's possible that Tom and Tabby could get along, but that would mean I'd need to have additional tests done on Tom before he meets Tabby (to ensure everyone stays healthy) ... things I've already done on Shiloh (except we know that currently Shiloh and Tabby do not get along).  It's a puzzle.

And that's where things are today.  We have the best-ever brown tabby, the shy and needy gray tabby, and the tough-guy with a soft heart orange tabby.  All healthy, happy, and wonderful to spend time with.

Purrs.

Whoa, White Kitty (Bam-ba-lam)

Over the past several months, the Awesome Boyfriend and I have noticed a fully-grown, perfectly snow white cat hanging around.  She ... no, we don't KNOW if the cat is a "she" but that's how we refer to her ... it ... the cat.) Anyway she seems to live under the neighbors stairs, and finds shelter at the base of a HUGE pine tree in the front yard.  She is very, very timid, 'tho I don't think she's completely wild.  She likes to hunt in the backyard, and because of her coat, we can see her in the very dark nightfall, bounding about among the leaves and whatnot.

Tabby, our cat, sees her from time to time, too.  We know this because she'll bound from sitting on the back of the sofa in the living room to sitting on the trash container in our kitchen, and when I try to relax her and remind her that she's the queen of this household, she'll grumble at me.  Tabby knows.  She realizes that I'm a sucker for animals.  Especially animals who have lost their faith in human-kind.  She sees me leave with another can of food, or the container of dry cat food that we shake to get her attention, and Tabby realizes that I won't be satisfied with just feeding this interloper.

It'll start that way, 'tho.  It already has.  I feed "white kitty" (we haven't found the right name yet) at least twice a day.  Sometimes I just walk over and give her fresh water, and a lot of times I just wanna see if she's around.  It's a very slow process, trying to gain an animals trust.  You can't make sudden movements or loud noises.  You can't push your way in - you need to be invited.

But today was a milestone morning.  I couldn't get back to sleep after the Awesome Boyfriend left for work, so I started my day earlier than usual.  It was still dark when I went to the coffee shop, and I didn't want to startle "white kitty" if she was sleeping on the porch, so I decided to feed her when I got back.

It was lighter out when I returned, so I started off with the container of crunchies towards the porch.  "White kitty" was sitting on the railing, and when I shook the container to get her attention, she looked right at me.  I said good morning in a low voice and slowed my pace, to allow her time to hide under the stairs, as she typically does.

I dropped a few crunchies at the stairs, left a small pile on top of the table, another small pile on the railing where she'd just been, and refilled her container near the front door.  And then I sat down on the bench on the corner of the porch.

She peaked out from the stairs and I told her that I wasn't gonna try anything stupid.  She very hesitantly (but quickly) ate up the kibble on the stairs, and then looked at me as if to say "I'm trusting you here - don't blow it", and very very hesitantly she moved towards her bowl.  Which wasn't all that far away from my feet.

I didn't make eye contact with her - I wanted her to feel like she was undetected - and she started eating.  We sat there for a while, maybe 10 minutes or so, during which she'd eat for a bit, and then sneak a glance at me, and then she'd return to eating.

Anyway, it was a major victory for us both.  I respected her boundaries and she gave me a shot at being trusted.

Tabby has nothing to worry about.  It will be at least a few seasons - if ever - before I'm allowed to pet "white kitty", let alone asking her if she wants to come indoors.  But we both made progress today.

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(Thanks to the Awesome Boyfriend for the title of today's babble.  It's what he says whenever I say anything about "white kitty".)

I'll Take "Movies About Driving" for $300 please, Alex.

So I was leaving my coffee shop today and heading back home. The shop is located in a strip-mall-ish kinda gigantic parking lot. The exit to the coffee shop is a left turn that is directly opposite parking for home improvement store, and after that left turn, there is a stop sign.

This stop sign is for folks driving around the parking lot. There is not a stop sign for the drivers that have just come off from the main road so cross-traffic DOES need to stop while the "fresh off the road" traffic does not. However I've noticed that nine times in ten, traffic in both directions does seem to stop and break down into a "I'm waiving you to go ahead", "No, I'm waiving YOU to go" sort of a battle.

Anyway as I said, I was leaving my coffee shop. I came to that stop sign and there was no one at the intersection. I started to shift Jake into first gear when I noticed a large white pickup truck coming in from off the main road. So I stopped because *duh* I legally am required to do so and also because while I could have gone sprinting across the front of this truck safely, I wasn't in a hurry. It was then that the truck turned his right blinker on, so I waited a moment to make sure that he was, in fact, turning and not going straight in front of me and then started to proceed through the intersection.

Brakes were slammed on immediately. The pick up, it seemed, had decided to not turn after all, but had neglected to turn off signal. The passenger in the pickup, a man who appeared to be in his 50s or so, rolled down his window and proceeded to tell me that I was a "stupid bitch who had no business being behind the wheel" and how women shouldn't be allowed to drive and that I was in the wrong because, after all, I had a stop sign and they didn't.

While this individual was yelling at me, I could see the driver trying to tell his passenger that he'd forgotten to turn off his blinker but the guy was in full rage mode so there was nothing to do but let him rant. The whole thing was an event that took less than half a minute, and they drove off (going straight) with the passenger giving me a hearty one-fingered salute. I rolled my eyes when I saw the bumper sticker on the truck: Passengers should sit down, strap in, shut up, and hang on. How appropriate.

I collected myself for a moment, and started to drive away, shaking my head at being yelled at for a mistake that was not mine when I noticed that Jake was now turning right. I don't actively remember thinking "that's not right and it's not fair and I'm gonna address this" ... but apparently I had decided to not just laugh it off.

By now, these two individuals had parked their vehicle and were exiting the truck so I pulled up in front of it and, in a calm and measured voice, I said "Yanno, I realize that you had the right of way. I've been at that intersection every day for the past 11 months and I know the traffic pattern there. But what you failed to see, Ricky Bobby, was that your buddy behind the wheel there had turned on his right blinker so I guess, me being a 'stupid bitch' and all, I actually expected him to turn right."

The up-till-now quiet driver turned to his passenger and said "See, I was trying to tell you that, Jason. She's right - I thought we were going to the loading dock so I had my right blinker on."

The passenger - Jason - turned to me and said "Oh wow. I'm sorry about that. Geez, I guess I didn't know ..." but I wasn't having any of it. "Of course you didn't know because you weren't behind the wheel. So, Jason, maybe you should just shut your damn mouth and leave the driving to actual drivers, like your bumper sticker says. Oh, and one more thing - giving me the finger?" Jason was now looking down at his feet, and I could see I'd made my point and may be starting to push my luck. "I'm willing to be 'a stupid bitch' but I am classier than resorting to that and THAT'S probably why women are allowed to drive, to keep the balance for little boys like you. Now you two have a nice day, alright?" With that, I once again put Jake into first gear and drove back to the stop sign, turned my blinker on and waved - with all my fingers, not just one - as I left.

And as I write this sitting safely at home, something occurs to me. I've never even SEEN "Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby".

The Decade Of "Zoom"

It was the Winter of 1989. I had a reliable, if not boring, vehicle already that was trouble-free. However, I started considering having another one in my life pretty much from the moment I saw the first advertisement. It was a two-page spread inside the front cover of a magazine that was flipping through. It was, and still is, the first time I took notice of each feature and detail, every carefully designed curve and even the color. "Coming soon, to a driveway near you", it read. I cut the advertisement out and tacked it behind my company-provided Macintosh SE30 against the office wall. I memorized it.

I never made any proclamation or announcement about it. It's not like I dialed the company-wide intercom system and said "Attention co-workers: One day, this will be mine." In fact, honestly it never occurred to me that I'd be able to set aside that kind of spare income. Affording a "second car", when one is living in a studio apartment and thinks of steamed rice and a Pepsi as "dinner", seems beyond nuts ... it becomes ridiculous.

But when the whole "dot com" age erupted and I was making ... well, ridiculous money, suddenly the numbers seemed within reach. And since the vehicle had proven not just popular but almost instantly "classic", I was intrigued. Captivated. Driven. And so it was that one Sunday morning I stopped thinking and started doing.

When the salesperson approached, it was as tho' I was not there. I was alright with being ignored - he didn't know that I'd be the buyer and the extra time allowed me to check out the bells and whistles without being "sold to". When it was made obvious that the purchase was mine to make, we went on a test drive. (It was, in my eyes, unnecessary. I knew as I saw the car that I'd be buying it but I felt it was only polite to go through the motions.)

I hadn't driven a stick in several years but the gears were close together (aka "a short throw") and the clutch was tight and low, just as I'd always imagined it would be. I drove us onto the freeway as the salesperson started with a pitch that I remember verbatim. "The passenger airbag can be turned off by putting your ignition key in this slot here, making it safe for a baby seat", he said, sounding satisfied with himself. "Right" , I said as I slipped easily into fifth gear, "because this is, after all, such a great 'Mommy' car." I could feel him look over at me and, from the corner of my vision, I noticed his face turn red from embarrassment at the idiocy of his statement.

He was quiet for about a mile or so and when I heard him take a breath to get ready for another "selling statement", I stopped him short with a speech I'd actually rehearsed. It was said in a confident voice, not snotty or arrogant - just factual. "Anything you say at this point will only kill this deal. I will be buying this car and I know what my offer will be. If you are unable to accept it, I know of two other dealerships who haven't made their numbers for the season and I'm sure they will happily take my money. Let's just enjoy this ride, alright?" And so we did, in silence.

We returned to the dealership, where he showed me the number he had prepared and I handed him my pre-written response card, with the number I'd prepared. Mine was only about $450 lower and I was proud that I'd done enough research - and was taken seriously enough - that the delta was that tight. A few "extras" were discussed ("I'm not paying $80 for floor mats when I can get them for $20 at the auto store near my house" was met with "Oh, we'll happily give you those - sorry, let me remove that") and we shook hands.

I glanced at the odometer when I got behind the wheel of the car I'd just signed for. The digital number showed the mileage as 23. (I would later pace out the route I'd taken as a test drive and it measured at a distance of 18 miles.) It had been over ten years since I saw that first advertisement. That first tease. Showing a beautiful coupe sitting in the summer sun while the country was in the midst of a rainy, cold Winter season. "Coming soon, to a driveway near you."

I turned the ... his ... wheel to the right and pulled into the driveway. "Here we are," I thought to myself. "Home at last."
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Jake will turn 10 years old tomorrow. Earlier this month, his odometer turned over to 47,000 miles. I don't know if the person who put those first 5 miles on him enjoyed the experience, but I sure have enjoyed the other 46,995.

And, like the other man in my life, he was more than worth the wait.

I'm Not Adopted

My sister called me today while I was in "my office". That's how we both refer to the coffee shop where I start my days, because ... well, I'm there (pretty much) each day. She was updating me on the latest goings-on with her employment (shaky-ish but probably alright ... her company is being purchased by another) and she mentioned that she had a call later in the day with the company doing the buying.

"Hey", I volunteered "if you have to go there in person, give yourself lots of extra time. They've finally begun to close the off-ramp onto the Avenues to start the retrofit so you'll have to find an alternative route ... along with everyone else."

There was silence on her end, but I knew what she was thinking.

I continued. "OK see - there's this thing called the 'Internet' and it was on the top of the electronic page of your local paper ..."

"Oh FINE, ya' wise ass. Geez - figures you'd know that before I would. Oh hey", she said, changing the subject, "I've got good news. The youngest has topped 100 lbs."

It was my turn to be silent. My youngest niece is going to be 3 years old this year, and I haven't seen her for awhile. How could this have happened? Had my sister been force-feeding my niece bacon fat and potato chips by the ton? Would my parents have to get involved? Would child-protective services need to be called?

"The puppy, Smarty Pants, the puppy. Oh sure ya' know traffic patterns across the US but ..."

"Oh thank GOD", I laughed. "I was thinking I'd have to stage a food intervention or something."

We continued to chat and then I looked up and saw a 1936 Ford driving down the street. I mentioned it to her and, where others would say "yeah so?" or "huh", she said "Cool - 3-window or 5?"

And that's when it dawned on me that I'm probably not adopted.

Zoom x3 x9

My boy Jake is nine years old today. We've traveled 42, 524 miles together over those nine years. This means that each year, we've traveled 4,724.9 miles ... or each day, we've gone 13 miles.

In those nine years, I've visited 13 "never been there before" states and 1 other country (Jake didn't come with me for any of those trips but still). I've worked for 3 companies and held I-have-no-idea HOW many different job titles. I've been healthy and not healthy, unemployed and employed, hopeful and hopeless, lost and found.

Some of the trips that Jake and I have gone on together were for absolute pleasure (Big Sur and Santa Barbara spring to mind) but the times he makes me most happy is after he's had a good bath, looks his best, and we're just doing errands. I like the sound his door makes when I close it and the top is down - it just sounds ... friendly. I like that he is just common enough that no one makes a real fuss over him but that he's nice looking enough that it's obvious he is treated well. The one that pampers him so ridiculously is, of course, me.

It's ridiculous that I have a nine year old car with just 42,524 miles. (The average mileage driven in my state per year is 11,400 - according to a quick glance around the Internet - so Jake is 60,076 miles under being "average".) It's ridiculous that I have a car with a name. It's ridiculous that I have friends, ex-bosses, valets and family that ask about that car - BY NAME. It's ridiculous that my parents painted that name on his car cover and not his license plate. One typically paints the license plate on the cover so that the cover wouldn't get stolen - but no - Jake's "blanket" says "JAKE" in big black letters. If it ever gets stolen ... would that be identify theft???) It's ridiculous that I refer to him as I do - "he", "him", "his".

And isn't that what birthdays are all about? A time to be ridiculous?

Happy 9th to my boy Jake. Here's to seeing what the next 4,724.9 miles looks like. Betcha they'll be pretty great.