Wednesday, July 15, 2009
It's okay to avoid like leprosy
I did not think it possible, but I have managed to find an ad campaign that makes me even more furious than Twitter whore Ashton Kutcher's COOLPIX ads. In fact, they make my feelings toward Ashton's buffoonery seem downright warm and charitable. This is the single most unappealing pitch for a dating site ever. It's even worse than that gross, snaggletoothed old Christian dude that used to sell e-Harmony with a lot of soporific jabber about compatibility and a lot of ugly couple success stories. These ads make e-Harmony, a company that is currently being sued for refusing to match gay couples and that seems to regard marrying a fat guy with a cell phone clipped to his belt a perfect outcome, seem like my ideal dating site. The horror of which I speak is the match.com "It's okay to look" ad campaign.
I am not sure what upsets me more, the slogan or the representative match.com singles from the commercials that I will ostensibly meet should I decide to partake of their services. The slogan is pretty bad. I don't need some disembodied female voice with the patronizing yet facile intonations of an overcompensating day care supervisor informing me that it's cool to cruise the internets for ass. I know plenty of people who get laid thanks to the miracle of the world wide web. I also think it's find to look for hookups at bars, clubs, restaurants, coffee shops, work, the gym, the park, the library, the designer mall, the waiting room at Planned Parenthood...hey, you never know when you might find someone. Really, the only place it's NOT okay to look is at a family reunion (although I have been hit on at one of those...but that's a whole other story). I am always looking, so thanks for stating the obvious about how "okay" it is to be doing so, match.com. I suppose next you're going to tell me that it's okay to drink coffee or it's okay to eat breakfast or it's okay to walk my dogs. Fuck off, match.com, with trying to make me feel validated enough to shell out for your subscription fee.
If I'm going to PAY to look, then I had better be looking at some hot pieces of ass who aren't insane. One of the biggest reasons people avoid internet dating (myself included) is the possibility of meeting a complete lunatic and/or stalker. I do a good enough job finding those without any e-assistance, so if I'm going to actually pay to peep at some frisky honeys on the prowl themselves, they better not be ugly and/or behaving like an extra from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. However, according to match.com's own promotional material, that's EXACTLY what they are selling.
If you go to match.com's website, you'll see SmilesforMiles01 and devco2000, AKA Fake Liz Phair and Pauly Shore/John C. Reilly's bastard child, letting us know in one sentence the dumbest, least interesting thing about both of them.
I only know a mere phrase worth of information about either of these people and already I hate them. You can tell that SmilesforMiles01 uses that lawn mowing line as part of her nagging routine. I can practically hear her shrill, shrewish voice issuing forth from within the unattractive folds of the Liz Claiborne blouse she's rocking: "Mow the lawn. It's THERAPEUTIC. Take out the garbage. IT'S THERAPEUTIC." And devco2000 would just rather that I think he's some kind of Jimmy Buffett-meets-Balthazar Getty rather than a sorry impersonator of the lead in Bio Dome. I should add, these are just the still promotional shots on the match.com website. The singles I'm supposed to get excited about looking at in the TV spots are infinitely more infuriating.
If you go to match.com's website, you'll see SmilesforMiles01 and devco2000, AKA Fake Liz Phair and Pauly Shore/John C. Reilly's bastard child, letting us know in one sentence the dumbest, least interesting thing about both of them.
I only know a mere phrase worth of information about either of these people and already I hate them. You can tell that SmilesforMiles01 uses that lawn mowing line as part of her nagging routine. I can practically hear her shrill, shrewish voice issuing forth from within the unattractive folds of the Liz Claiborne blouse she's rocking: "Mow the lawn. It's THERAPEUTIC. Take out the garbage. IT'S THERAPEUTIC." And devco2000 would just rather that I think he's some kind of Jimmy Buffett-meets-Balthazar Getty rather than a sorry impersonator of the lead in Bio Dome. I should add, these are just the still promotional shots on the match.com website. The singles I'm supposed to get excited about looking at in the TV spots are infinitely more infuriating.
Take, for example, LaSirene7, who wants her potential sex partners to know that she can't roller skate, she shrieks a lot, she has an annoying laugh, and she wears ugly dresses gleaned from the "Misses" section at the Puyallup Ross Dress for Less. In other words, she's basically walking birth control.
There's also 1Eamonn4U, a Kevin Federline-meets-Channing Tatum knockoff who thinks that chuckling and chasing around a butterfly will get him laid. Although I must commend him on going this route rather than his usual Ed Hardy shirt-wearing and roofie-slipping, I don't know many ladies who will eagerly follow a butterfly right into the awkwardly flailing arms of a low-functioning buffoon. He's so confident in his strategy that at the end of his ad, he says, "Heh heh heh, I can't wait 'til my ex-girlfriend sees this." Because she's going to be soooooooooooo jealous of all those girls who won't be able to resist 1Eamonn4U's lack of coordination and baffling lepidopteran amusements.
Or NYCGingerGirl, a low-rent Jami Gertz knockoff who can't seem to master the complex technical nuances of a chef hat. I can see why her name isn't NYCRocketScientist.
And then there's Buddy20, whose seduction game involves putting on his jaunty Robin Hood feathered cap and jogging in place in a suit while giggling maniacally. (SPOILER ALERT: Buddy20 is also totally a serial killer.)
Get an eyeful of Kumnandi, who is apparently suffering from dissociative schizophrenia and is letting her "Lenny Kravitz" personality manage her internet dating life.
One of my most hated ads is the one promoting HablawithMe, some mid-40s divorcee who is apparently obsessed with butchering simple phrases in German and Spanish. At the end of her asinine monologue (which is mostly comprised of her saying "um" and laughing at herself for no reason), she says "puedo no hablar el español," then guffaws and says, "Maybe someone out there understood that, somewhere." Maybe, bitch, because it's completely unfathomable that anyone out there speaks Spanish. And it doesn't take a wise Latina to realize that you said "I can't speak Spanish," which is frankly pretty fucking obvious.
And without fail, the worst, most loathsome installment in the "It's Okay To Look" serial shitshow, is the intolerable Adventure90. Every time I hear, "I'm just a goof, looking for my ball!" I want to pull out my strap and lay the bitch out, and in the rap way, not the hot girl-on-girl kind of way.
Seriously, who wants to go on a single date with ANY of these people? All these ads do is confirm the worst about internet dating: everyone on match.com is a weirdo and a freak, and irritating as fuck to boot. It's like these people exist in the world solely to work my very last nerve. It is okay to look, and it's also okay to say "HELL THE FUCK NO, MATCH.COM." Call me conservative and call me old-fashioned, but I'm going to pull my ass the traditional way: drag their drunk ass home from a bar!
Seriously, who wants to go on a single date with ANY of these people? All these ads do is confirm the worst about internet dating: everyone on match.com is a weirdo and a freak, and irritating as fuck to boot. It's like these people exist in the world solely to work my very last nerve. It is okay to look, and it's also okay to say "HELL THE FUCK NO, MATCH.COM." Call me conservative and call me old-fashioned, but I'm going to pull my ass the traditional way: drag their drunk ass home from a bar!
Labels: capitalism, I'm Not Buying It, intentional buffoonery, overcompensation, pro-apocalyptic zeitgeist, ranting, retard rage, sex, sluts, you're ugly
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The economy isn't the only thing trending toward TOTAL SHIT
I was idly checking my e-mail the other day when my eyes strayed across the link that Gmail read the contents of my correspondence and decided I would like to click upon. Due to a fair amount of dick-swinging shit-talkery about last Sunday's Seahawks abortion game between myself and other various football buddies, there were enough references to the Green Bay Packers (ie: "the Hawks will melt those Cheeseheads like a pot of bitch-flavored fondue"), Google's e-mail readers decided that I'd be attracted to the following statement: "Wear Zubaz in Packers Colors! BUY NOW!"
"Zubaz?" I said, as the term was vaguely familiar. It reminded me of something in my childhood...something from a simpler time, when I carried an Esprit tote bag, wore my hair in a spiral perm to disguise the decidedly not neon (and therefore not stylish) neckstrap for the headgear my sadistic orthodontist forced me to wear to school, and when I was awkward and afraid of boys and knew the song "U Can't Touch This" so well that I could do that really fast "it's-Hammer-go-Hammer-MC-Hammer-yo-Hammer-and-the-rest-can-go-and-play-can't-touch-this" part without messing up. So I decided to investigate further, and almost as soon as I clicked the link, I remembered EXACTLY what Zubaz are. I know right now the world is a grim and uncertain place, but things aren't so bad that THIS needs to come back:
Granted, there are parts of Puyallup where these pants have never gone away. Usually they're found waddling into Wal-Mart in old school Seahawks colors and/or UW Huskies colors (and trust that purple and gold do not go well with morbid obesity) accessorized with a fanny pack, a prodigious gut, and a B.U.M. Equipment sweatshirt. However, excepting certain dark trailer parks in unincorporated Pierce County, Washington, I had long since relegated Zubaz along with Hypercolor, International News logo shirts, and stirrup stretch pants to the class of trends that are dead and gone.
Granted, there are parts of Puyallup where these pants have never gone away. Usually they're found waddling into Wal-Mart in old school Seahawks colors and/or UW Huskies colors (and trust that purple and gold do not go well with morbid obesity) accessorized with a fanny pack, a prodigious gut, and a B.U.M. Equipment sweatshirt. However, excepting certain dark trailer parks in unincorporated Pierce County, Washington, I had long since relegated Zubaz along with Hypercolor, International News logo shirts, and stirrup stretch pants to the class of trends that are dead and gone.
Thus I was most dismayed to see that Zubaz have made a "proud return," with their signature "bold patterns and classic styles" (translation: zebra, zebra, and more zebra). I don't need to see low-rent Paris Hilton and Ryan Reynolds knockoffs trying to convince me that this is any better a sportswear-mediated fashion statement now than it was 15 years ago. Fuck Zubaz and the zebra they rode in on. I'm not buying it.
Labels: I'm Not Buying It, neon, pro-apocalyptic zeitgeist, you're ugly
Monday, July 21, 2008
Daily Douchebag: the Svedka vodka robot
DOB: 2007
Occupation: turning me off the idea of ever ordering Svedka vodka
Hometown: Sweden?
Current residence: the internets
Douchebaggery: I see these ads for Svedka vodka all over the internets. I can't recall a single occasion in which I or anyone I've witnessed ever ordered Svedka vodka, but Svedka is trying to change that with totally ubiquitous online ads. All my trusty gossip websites, my social slutworking websites, even some of my news websites have ads pimping Svedka. Too bad Svedka's marketing strategy ensures that I'd rather choke on syphilitic dick than allow a stray drop of a Svedka martini cross my lips.
Svedka's ads rely on sex appeal, which normally does the job for me. I'll buy almost any product if it makes me think of getting laid. However, Svedka's "sex appeal" is embodied by this futuristic sex droid reminiscent of the offspring of a blow-up doll and the robots from the CGI shitshow known as I, Robot. There is something inherently really creepy about what looks like some sort of Kim Kardashian Terminator with all its flesh stripped off. From a strictly pragmatic perspective, I also think this sexbot looks pretty useless. How are you supposed to have sex with that thing? From what I can see, it doesn't come equipped with a vagina module. What good is a voluptuous robot with DD tits if you can't use it for your perverse gratification? From what I can tell, the best this thing can do is maybe give some oral, but I question even that since her mouth plug-in always seems busy drinking some kind of Svedka cocktail. I have no use whatsoever for an unsettling sexless sex machine that's going to sit around drinking all my swill.
I suppose Svedka could be less appealing by using webcam pedophile penis shots from the "To Catch a Predator" archives or footage of Star Jones's post-gastric bypass FUPA to sell their firewater, but that's pretty much all I can think of that would turn me off more than their skeezy fem-bot. Robo-tease is not hot, and she doesn't make me either horny or thirsty for a Svedka gimlet. FAIL, Svedka marketing department!
If Svedka truly aspires to be the world's best vodka in 2033, I strongly suggest they stop turning off their potential alcoholic customers with this disturbing spokesdroid. Besides, if they insist on using robots to somehow suggest that Svedka is the vodka of the future, I can think of two WAY sexier models they could employ:
However, until Svedka signs RoboCop and/or the ED-209 as celebrity vodka endorsers, I am sticking with Stoli.
Labels: alcoholism, Daily Douchebag, I'm Not Buying It, retard rage, RoboCop, scathing indictments
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Daily Douchebag: Star magazine
DOB: sired by Rupert Murdoch in 1974
Occupation: printing the world's most outrageously false celebrity gossip (well, next to News of the World, anyway)
Hometown: New York, New York
Current residence: New York, New York
Douchebaggery: As far as the gossip rags go, Star is probably the most unbelievable and ridiculous. Look at this week's cover above. Of the three stories there, the only one I buy is that J. Lo was a high-maintenance pain in the ass while popping out her corpse babies on Long Island last week. Star has been reporting the engagement of Brangelina for two years now, so I hardly think that this time around Brad Pitt really is going to make an honest sanctimonious media whore out of Angelina Jolie. Even less believable is that the legendary Ms. Britney Spears is pregnant with Adnan Ghalib's bastard. For one thing, calling a "bump alert" on Brit-Brit isn't breaking news, considering she's been building that FUPA with massive volumes of Starbucks, Cheetos, and Taco Bell for the past year and a half. We all saw it fully uncovered during Britney's VMA performance last fall, and it's common knowledge that Britney's belly contains the residue of countless Frappuccinos rather than a developing fetus. For another, "Brit's revenge on Jamie-Lynn"? Even if Britney is knocked up rather than just bloated as usual, how is that somehow meting out vengeance against her younger white trash sister? I guess Jamie-Lynn stole the media circus from Britney for all of one week when she whored out her sordid tale of teen pregnancy to OK! magazine, but otherwise, I can't think of any reason why Britney would be thirsty for payback against her little sis.
Granted, I read plenty of unsubstantiated celebrity gossip. I don't get too bent out of shape when Perez Hilton or Michael K. from Dlisted report something that turns out to be untrue, so why should I hold Star to a higher standard? Simply put, I don't have to pay to read fake shit on the internets, while Star wants me to fork over $3.50 for it! That is BULLSHIT. I shouldn't have to pay to read fabricated scandal--no matter how tantalizing--when I can get the same product for free. Also, as long as they're going to make things up, how about some variety? I've been hearing this same tired "Brad and Angelina are finally getting married" and "Britney is pregnant/suicidal/married/etc." from them practically every week. These stories are older and more used than a middle-aged Tijuana hooker. Come up with some new conjecture, already. In the meantime, I'm so NOT buying a copy of Star.
Labels: Britney Spears, celebrities, Daily Douchebag, I'm Not Buying It, media whores, retard rage
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I'm Not Buying It: Aveeno Positively Ageless Active Naturals with Active Shiitake Complex
COOL JEW NOTE: This is the first installment in a new series identifying beauty and lifestyle products that even I – a JAP who is completely and eternally obsessed with her weight, clothes, skin, weight, hair, clothes, and weight and willing to drop serious dimes on anything that promises to slim, shine, clarify or otherwise titivate me – would never purchase. Advertisers be warned: if you're hawking your creams, pills, shadows, concealers and push-ups so poorly that even I won't waste my money and time, you're going to want to head back to the drawing board.
I'm Not Buying: Aveeno Positively Ageless Active Naturals with Active Shiitake Complex
AKA: Face cream
Price: $14.99 at Walgreens.com
The Shill: "Natural Shiitake Complex, a blend of Shiitake and Mannentake mushrooms, has been shown to help accelerate skin's natural cell renewal process to leave skin looking and feeling fresher, younger, and more radiant. Natural Shiitake Complex works similarly to a natural enzyme that we have in our skin, which releases the chemical bonds that hold dead skin cells together. The result: "increased cell renewal that allows younger skin to come to the surface without overdrying."
The Real: "Shiitake complex"? Really? Every time this commercial comes on the set and those mushrooms start bouncing across the screen, I snort and guffaw disdainfully. Apparently, this face spooge contains a microbial coagulant known as Mucor miehei, which happens to be found
in most mushrooms. Shiitakes may be delicious, but they have a ridiculous name and I highly doubt that a drug store product is going to make my face as supple as a mushroom's backside. The word "shiitake," naturally, makes me think of shit, which makes sense since mushrooms grow on shit. And all that really makes me want to rub it on my face. Sha.
I'd Rather Buy: La Prairie Skin Caviar Luxe Cream, $650 for three ounces, available at high-end department stores. Sure, the active ingredient here got spurted out of a sturgeon's fuckhole and the concept may be just as inane as the "shiitake complex." But this is the most expensive face cream you can buy, caviar is delicious and La Prairie is way too cool for television commercials, so I want it. Duh.
RAZZY EDIT: I know this says it was by me, but it was actually written by LL Cool Jew, she just asked me to post it for her. For one thing, I am not a JAP, but rather shikse PWT from the P-N-Dub who looks no further than my local Rite-Aid for skin care and knows not of this "La Prairie" business. Like I told LL Cool Jew, that shit might as well be "La Choy" discount soy sauce. For another, my idea of personal care involves shaving my pussy without slipping in the bathtub and dying, picking a shirt that showcases as much cleavage as possible, wearing cheap heels, and a lot of drugstore eyeliner and cocksucker red lipstick. This type of thing is totally LL Cool Jew's department.
I'm Not Buying: Aveeno Positively Ageless Active Naturals with Active Shiitake Complex
AKA: Face cream
Price: $14.99 at Walgreens.com
The Shill: "Natural Shiitake Complex, a blend of Shiitake and Mannentake mushrooms, has been shown to help accelerate skin's natural cell renewal process to leave skin looking and feeling fresher, younger, and more radiant. Natural Shiitake Complex works similarly to a natural enzyme that we have in our skin, which releases the chemical bonds that hold dead skin cells together. The result: "increased cell renewal that allows younger skin to come to the surface without overdrying."
The Real: "Shiitake complex"? Really? Every time this commercial comes on the set and those mushrooms start bouncing across the screen, I snort and guffaw disdainfully. Apparently, this face spooge contains a microbial coagulant known as Mucor miehei, which happens to be found
in most mushrooms. Shiitakes may be delicious, but they have a ridiculous name and I highly doubt that a drug store product is going to make my face as supple as a mushroom's backside. The word "shiitake," naturally, makes me think of shit, which makes sense since mushrooms grow on shit. And all that really makes me want to rub it on my face. Sha.
I'd Rather Buy: La Prairie Skin Caviar Luxe Cream, $650 for three ounces, available at high-end department stores. Sure, the active ingredient here got spurted out of a sturgeon's fuckhole and the concept may be just as inane as the "shiitake complex." But this is the most expensive face cream you can buy, caviar is delicious and La Prairie is way too cool for television commercials, so I want it. Duh.
RAZZY EDIT: I know this says it was by me, but it was actually written by LL Cool Jew, she just asked me to post it for her. For one thing, I am not a JAP, but rather shikse PWT from the P-N-Dub who looks no further than my local Rite-Aid for skin care and knows not of this "La Prairie" business. Like I told LL Cool Jew, that shit might as well be "La Choy" discount soy sauce. For another, my idea of personal care involves shaving my pussy without slipping in the bathtub and dying, picking a shirt that showcases as much cleavage as possible, wearing cheap heels, and a lot of drugstore eyeliner and cocksucker red lipstick. This type of thing is totally LL Cool Jew's department.
Labels: I'm Not Buying It, LL Cool Jew, vanity
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