blog rot: (n.) condition wherein one has not written in one's blog for so long that when one finally does attempt to do so, an almost physical stench emits from the screen, driving one away again. Condition can be brought on by preoccupation, laziness, apathy, or any combination thereof. Symptoms tend to be worse in the summer. Condition can become permanent if not treated aggressively.
Here we go again, another post explaining/excusing why I haven't blogged in so long. The fact is, after you've let three weeks go by, it's really difficult to just jump back in again. Several things have kept me away, but I'll pare them down to three main excuses . . . I mean, reasons:
1. Work, work, work. I'm still working over 50 hours a week, on average, and after spending 8 to 10 hours during the day at the computer at the office, I rarely feel like jumping back on one when I get home.
2. Social life. After several months of semi-hibernation while I contemplated/reflected upon my split from my soon-to-be-former husband, I'm starting to get out there among the living once again. And it's been good. It's summer, the weather's been gorgeous, and there's a lot going on.
3. Topic Indecision. Despite the (very valid, I think) reasons above, there have been several times I've sat down and actually logged on to the blog, only to stare at the screen for a while, get frustrated, and then ultimately give up. The problem isn't that I have nothing to write about. It's quite the opposite, in fact--I have too many ideas, and I can't seem to choose which one I should dive into at any given time. Should I just write about my life and what's going on with it? Make some pithy observation about something seemingly mundane but potentially interesting? Write a movie or book review? Or maybe dive into something political again, which, incidentally, I haven't really done since the Great Election Tragedy of 2004? I can never decide. And so, instead, I don't write at all.
This is a common problem, I think, with casual blogging--you know, when your blog has no unifying theme. Do I need a theme? Maybe. I'm still working it out.
Life would be so much easier if I just had a blog like this guy's. In case you're too lazy (or preoccupied, or apathetic) to check out the link, I'll sum it up: It's called "snakesonablog," and it's all about this guy's obsession with the upcoming flick, "Snakes on a Plane." For those of you who don't know, SOAP is a potentially horrid or brilliant B-type movie starring Samuel L. Jackson that's premiering, I think, next month. It's getting a lot of pre-release buzz as a made-to-order cult classic. Whether it will endure as such remains to be seen, but it's a fact that it already has an early cult following thanks in large part to this guy's blog. You might think it would be rather difficult to build an entire blog around one's excitement over an upcoming movie--even burb doesn't go that far--but this guy has done it. And I have to admit, I'm a little jealous.
One major drawback to the SOAB blog, though, is rather obvious--what happens to it after The Big Event (i.e., the premier of the movie)? No matter how the movie is received, the whole point of the blog--which lies in the anticipation of the event--will be mute. The poor guy will have to totally reinvent his blog. And if, as is so often the case with things we look forward to, the anticipation of the event proves more fulfilling than the event itself, where does that leave him? Maybe he'll be too disheartened to ever blog again! And his (semi) fame, like that of so many others, will be a mere flash in the pan, giving him a teasing taste of greatness only to snatch the plate away again.
Which naturally leads to another question--is it better to have blogged and stopped, than never to have blogged at all?
Let's hope I can successfully battle the blog rot and never have to find out.
(By the way, I love this bit of trivia about the SOAP movie, from IMDB: Samuel L. Jackson only signed on for this film because of the title. It was later changed to "Pacific Air Flight 121", but Jackson demanded they reverse the change. "We're totally changing that back. That's the only reason I took the job: I read the title.")
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Do the Math
The grocery store I frequent (Giant Eagle) has been running this program for a while called "Fuel Perks," in which for every $50 you spend at the store, you get 10 cents off each gallon of gas at this certain gas station. The total of the money you spend at the store accumulates until you utilize your gas discount. I've been taking advantage of this program for a few months now, and it's not bad--I fill up my car about every two weeks or so and usually get 20 to 30 cents off per gallon. Sounds good, right? It is good, actually. I've got no problem with the program itself. What I do have a problem with is--can you guess?--the program's advertising campaign, or, more specifically, its main slogan.
I was at the store a couple of days ago, pushing my cart around, going about my business, when the advertisement came on over the sound system. You know how that goes--suddenly the subtle background music in the store is interrupted by a woman's unbelievably cheerful voice promoting the weekly specials or whatever. Well, this particular promotion discussed the Fuel Perks program, explaining what it was, how it worked, etc. I wasn't really paying attention until I heard the final line of the ad: "You may never have to pay for gas again!"
Now, this started the analytical wheels in my head turning. As I studied cans of cat food (29 cents each), I started thinking about just how much money I would have to spend at Giant Eagle every two weeks to "never pay for gas again." It was a pretty simple calculation. Let's say gas costs $2.80 a gallon (and that's a generous assumption lately). If I have to spend $50 to get 10 cents off, and there are 28 factors of 10 in $2.80, then we multiply 50 times 28 to arrive at the magic figure. The result? $1400. To get a tank of free gas, I would have to spend $1400 at the grocery store every two weeks. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that would be a challenging proposition for a family of, say, 40 people, let alone a single person living on a salary of less than that total. (Net, that is.)
Maybe this is just the way my mind works, but I can't help but picture the meeting of the ad execs when they were thinking up this campaign, and someone proposed this slogan. Did anybody pipe up and and say, "Excuse me, but that doesn't really make sense. No one spends that much on groceries. No one is going to "never pay for gas again" because of this program."
Hmm. Nah, I don't think that happened either. And if it did, that person is probably looking for a new job right now.
I was at the store a couple of days ago, pushing my cart around, going about my business, when the advertisement came on over the sound system. You know how that goes--suddenly the subtle background music in the store is interrupted by a woman's unbelievably cheerful voice promoting the weekly specials or whatever. Well, this particular promotion discussed the Fuel Perks program, explaining what it was, how it worked, etc. I wasn't really paying attention until I heard the final line of the ad: "You may never have to pay for gas again!"
Now, this started the analytical wheels in my head turning. As I studied cans of cat food (29 cents each), I started thinking about just how much money I would have to spend at Giant Eagle every two weeks to "never pay for gas again." It was a pretty simple calculation. Let's say gas costs $2.80 a gallon (and that's a generous assumption lately). If I have to spend $50 to get 10 cents off, and there are 28 factors of 10 in $2.80, then we multiply 50 times 28 to arrive at the magic figure. The result? $1400. To get a tank of free gas, I would have to spend $1400 at the grocery store every two weeks. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that would be a challenging proposition for a family of, say, 40 people, let alone a single person living on a salary of less than that total. (Net, that is.)
Maybe this is just the way my mind works, but I can't help but picture the meeting of the ad execs when they were thinking up this campaign, and someone proposed this slogan. Did anybody pipe up and and say, "Excuse me, but that doesn't really make sense. No one spends that much on groceries. No one is going to "never pay for gas again" because of this program."
Hmm. Nah, I don't think that happened either. And if it did, that person is probably looking for a new job right now.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
What I think about all the time, unfortunately . . .
I don't blog much about my job, because, as we all know, there is always the danger of getting dooced from doing so. However, I've never hidden the fact that I'm an editor--more specifically, a textbook editor, and more specifically still, a high school social studies textbook editor. Upon hearing my job title, some people think, "That sounds cool," while even more people think, "God, that sounds fucking boring." Actually, it's both. In some respects, my job is pretty cool--I get to be creative, I have a lot of autonomy, I write and edit all day, and sometimes, I even get to travel. In other respects, it's tedious and extremely stressful, and the pressure is never really off. And then there's the whole thing about getting addicted to one's salary and benefits package, said benefits package being pretty fucking awesome and basically having the effect of doubling the salary, for all intents and purposes . . . but I digress.
I'll go out on a limb here and divulge the information that I'm currently working on an economics textbook. An economics textbook that somehow needs to be "hip" and "cool" and "cutting edge." Which means that, whether I'm actually at work or not, I'm keeping a constant eye out for market trends and new products and other stuff that I might be able to put in my book, eventually. And I gotta tell you, it's pretty exhausting. I can no longer watch TV, listen to the radio, or look through a magazine (all of which are supposed to be "relaxing" activities) without constantly evaluating everything I see and hear, consciously or subconsciously, on its potential merits as a feature or mention in my book. And in case you haven't noticed, advertising is everywhere. There is no escape.
It's really no wonder I'm exhausted and/or drunk all the time.
Anyway, it probably makes sense that with all this scrutiny, I've become particularly critical about ads and whatnot. And I have a particular favorite right now. One that makes me wonder what people are thinking and what's going to happen to this product in the long run. Really, I'm curious and incredulous. Without further ado, the product in question is:
VEET.
Have you all heard of this? It's yet another way for women to remove hair from their bodies, supposedly. First off, let me say that I'm a little suspicious of alternative over-the-counter hair-removal solutions. Remember "Nair"? Of the "We wear short-shorts" long-legged skinny women commercial fame? Nair was supposed to be this cream you just rubbed on your legs and, magically, the hair came right off. Did that stuff work? Did anyone ever actually try it? I remember asking my mom about it many years ago, when I was still a young lass with barely a leg hair to bitch about. According to Mom, no, it didn't work at all. Then why would people buy it, I asked? Because, she said, they had great TV ads, and a lot of women would go out and buy it once, and then realize it didn't work, but by then it would be too late, because they'd already spent the money. That's how the company made money, she said, by all these women buying it once. But why wouldn't all these women tell their friends it didn't work, I asked, and then no one would buy it?
Oh, what a sophisticated young consumer I was.
As far as I know, that' s what DID happen with Nair--it's not around anymore, right? So now, I'm wondering what will happen with VEET.
The marketers of VEET are pretty sophisticated as well, as marketers tend to be. In the commercial, they focus consumers' attention not on the dilapitory cream that one must use, but on the "special tool" that you get when you buy VEET. This "tool," by the way, looks exactly like a razor with no blade. In the commercial, a woman (whose face you never see, of course) runs this "tool" over her slender, perfectly toned, apparently already hairless leg, and suddenly . . . well, I guess we're supposed to assume that whatever hair that was there that we couldn't see in the first place is now gone. That is the magic of VEET. Can you dig it?
Now, I have many questions about all of this, but none of them center on whether or not VEET really works. Honestly, I don't care. I made my peace with razors a long time ago. Sure, shaving is a pain, but it gets the job done. It's reliable. Compared to most of life's trials, it's no big deal. I'm O.K. with it.
Of more interest to me is the thinking behind this whole marketing campaign. I don't know, maybe it's the particularly astute discernment abilities I've developed after months of working on this economics book, but a lot of things in the campaign make no sense whatsoever to me. Allow me to lay them out for you:
1. What, exactly, is VEET? Is it the "special tool"? Is it the cream? Is it the whole system, as a whole? Or is it more a concept, an idea, a dream of living a leg-hair-free existence? I'm just not sure.
2. Who was the genius who decided to call a major part of this product, marketed very specifically to women, a "tool"? Really, you couldn't come up with anything better and/or more appropriate? Honestly, the idea of using a "tool" on my legs doesn't sound very appealing. It seems vaguely surgical, and to some, it might conjure up images of people's shins being cracked with a wrench or something. I won't even go into the possible sexual innuendos that could be derived from an alternative definition. Just a really, really bad choice of terminology, in my opinion. (The assertion that the tool is somehow "special" doesn't help either. Not at all.)
3. And finally--VEET??? What the hell does that even mean? Is it an acronym? Is it supposed to summon up some association with something else? And what would that be, exactly? To me, it sounds like a word aliens would use. If an alien landed in my backyard, descended from his/her/its ship, floated up to me, and said, "Veet!" I would not be surprised. That would make sense, in some strange way. But as a way for my legs to be sleek and smooth? Nah, it just doesn't work.
So, while I'm curious to learn what others might think of VEET, I have no plans to include it in my book in any way. Apart from the mind-boggling aspects of the marketing side of the whole thing, I just don't think teenage girls need more cajoling into trying to be even more hairless than they're already encouraged to be.
I'll go out on a limb here and divulge the information that I'm currently working on an economics textbook. An economics textbook that somehow needs to be "hip" and "cool" and "cutting edge." Which means that, whether I'm actually at work or not, I'm keeping a constant eye out for market trends and new products and other stuff that I might be able to put in my book, eventually. And I gotta tell you, it's pretty exhausting. I can no longer watch TV, listen to the radio, or look through a magazine (all of which are supposed to be "relaxing" activities) without constantly evaluating everything I see and hear, consciously or subconsciously, on its potential merits as a feature or mention in my book. And in case you haven't noticed, advertising is everywhere. There is no escape.
It's really no wonder I'm exhausted and/or drunk all the time.
Anyway, it probably makes sense that with all this scrutiny, I've become particularly critical about ads and whatnot. And I have a particular favorite right now. One that makes me wonder what people are thinking and what's going to happen to this product in the long run. Really, I'm curious and incredulous. Without further ado, the product in question is:
VEET.
Have you all heard of this? It's yet another way for women to remove hair from their bodies, supposedly. First off, let me say that I'm a little suspicious of alternative over-the-counter hair-removal solutions. Remember "Nair"? Of the "We wear short-shorts" long-legged skinny women commercial fame? Nair was supposed to be this cream you just rubbed on your legs and, magically, the hair came right off. Did that stuff work? Did anyone ever actually try it? I remember asking my mom about it many years ago, when I was still a young lass with barely a leg hair to bitch about. According to Mom, no, it didn't work at all. Then why would people buy it, I asked? Because, she said, they had great TV ads, and a lot of women would go out and buy it once, and then realize it didn't work, but by then it would be too late, because they'd already spent the money. That's how the company made money, she said, by all these women buying it once. But why wouldn't all these women tell their friends it didn't work, I asked, and then no one would buy it?
Oh, what a sophisticated young consumer I was.
As far as I know, that' s what DID happen with Nair--it's not around anymore, right? So now, I'm wondering what will happen with VEET.
The marketers of VEET are pretty sophisticated as well, as marketers tend to be. In the commercial, they focus consumers' attention not on the dilapitory cream that one must use, but on the "special tool" that you get when you buy VEET. This "tool," by the way, looks exactly like a razor with no blade. In the commercial, a woman (whose face you never see, of course) runs this "tool" over her slender, perfectly toned, apparently already hairless leg, and suddenly . . . well, I guess we're supposed to assume that whatever hair that was there that we couldn't see in the first place is now gone. That is the magic of VEET. Can you dig it?
Now, I have many questions about all of this, but none of them center on whether or not VEET really works. Honestly, I don't care. I made my peace with razors a long time ago. Sure, shaving is a pain, but it gets the job done. It's reliable. Compared to most of life's trials, it's no big deal. I'm O.K. with it.
Of more interest to me is the thinking behind this whole marketing campaign. I don't know, maybe it's the particularly astute discernment abilities I've developed after months of working on this economics book, but a lot of things in the campaign make no sense whatsoever to me. Allow me to lay them out for you:
1. What, exactly, is VEET? Is it the "special tool"? Is it the cream? Is it the whole system, as a whole? Or is it more a concept, an idea, a dream of living a leg-hair-free existence? I'm just not sure.
2. Who was the genius who decided to call a major part of this product, marketed very specifically to women, a "tool"? Really, you couldn't come up with anything better and/or more appropriate? Honestly, the idea of using a "tool" on my legs doesn't sound very appealing. It seems vaguely surgical, and to some, it might conjure up images of people's shins being cracked with a wrench or something. I won't even go into the possible sexual innuendos that could be derived from an alternative definition. Just a really, really bad choice of terminology, in my opinion. (The assertion that the tool is somehow "special" doesn't help either. Not at all.)
3. And finally--VEET??? What the hell does that even mean? Is it an acronym? Is it supposed to summon up some association with something else? And what would that be, exactly? To me, it sounds like a word aliens would use. If an alien landed in my backyard, descended from his/her/its ship, floated up to me, and said, "Veet!" I would not be surprised. That would make sense, in some strange way. But as a way for my legs to be sleek and smooth? Nah, it just doesn't work.
So, while I'm curious to learn what others might think of VEET, I have no plans to include it in my book in any way. Apart from the mind-boggling aspects of the marketing side of the whole thing, I just don't think teenage girls need more cajoling into trying to be even more hairless than they're already encouraged to be.
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