Tuesday, January 09, 2007
MORE SH*T I DON'T NEED
The badvertisers are after my leaky ass again. And they still think I'm bi. (-lingual, that is).
(Okay, so my ass is a huge target, but their target market, I am not.)
Yes, IT CAME IN THE MAIL:
Cleeck to make BIG-! 
I think I'm going to hang this on my door, as a warning to others.
Very rough translation:
OPEN THE DOOR TO HAPPINESS-!
These are your days. The days in which you take everything to skin flower. [uh...heart?] And you go one week accustomed to the visit. But your days are much more than one week submerged in emotions. They are the essence of being woman. Your nature remembers… is perfect and it is not mistaken. So it shows your better smile. [Your "better smile" is in your pants?! -Ed.] Because happiness is not just a state of [mind?], it is a decision. It laughs, it cries, it shouts and ?!!!?? Be that as it may if it makes you happy. We are here for to help.
"Dias". Flowers. "The visit". "Happiness...is a decision".
What a crock.
This ad is like a cross between a Scientology brochure and fundamentalist Christian bullshit. I think they've been listening to women like this. And, I could do without "the essence of being woman," it is NOT flower-like, not at all. And I would sonríe a helluva lot more if I didn't have to deal with it, thanks.
See, getting things like the following in the mail does not make me want to go out and buy their product; it makes me want to find the person responsible and shove my Trader Joe's, inexpensive, unbleached, used organic vag bullets down their throat:
Please note the butterflies emerging from the pantyliner. Butterflies do NOT fly out of a cotton ponies - at least, they shouldn't. Unless they landed and pupated in there, or something, butterflies do not fly out of one's crotch.
Moths, maybe.
Waiter, there's leakage in my pantyliner...there's pantyliners in my leakage!
So, what are they trying to tell me - that I'm a) old, and b) premenstrual? That I need something to catch my clots and my pants accidents? That I'm basically one step away from bleeding out while pissing into my Depends® before shitting myself, and I should perhaps start thinking about putting my affairs in order, fuck off, and die. Thanks, Personal Products Company.* Thanks...a lot.
And now, for even more pants-wetting goodness: water, with oxygen...and LOVE!
H2OM Water with Intention "Love" - Only in L.A. Dude, I'm not sure I want love in my water. Shit's not sanitary.**
*"So, where do you work, Bob?" "I'm glad you asked, Rob. I work for Personal Products Company, a division of McNeil-PPC, Inc., a leader in the consumer oral and women's health markets with MONISTAT® vaginal yeast cures, and K-Y® personal lubricant, as well as a line of sanitary products." "Uh...grrreeeat. Hey, isn't that Midge over there? I think I'll go get a refill on my vodka tonic."
**I did not purchase this.
MORE SH*T I DON'T NEED(Okay, so my ass is a huge target, but their target market, I am not.)
Yes, IT CAME IN THE MAIL:
Very rough translation:
These are your days. The days in which you take everything to skin flower. [uh...heart?] And you go one week accustomed to the visit. But your days are much more than one week submerged in emotions. They are the essence of being woman. Your nature remembers… is perfect and it is not mistaken. So it shows your better smile. [Your "better smile" is in your pants?! -Ed.] Because happiness is not just a state of [mind?], it is a decision. It laughs, it cries, it shouts and ?!!!?? Be that as it may if it makes you happy. We are here for to help.
"Dias". Flowers. "The visit". "Happiness...is a decision".
What a crock.
This ad is like a cross between a Scientology brochure and fundamentalist Christian bullshit. I think they've been listening to women like this. And, I could do without "the essence of being woman," it is NOT flower-like, not at all. And I would sonríe a helluva lot more if I didn't have to deal with it, thanks.
See, getting things like the following in the mail does not make me want to go out and buy their product; it makes me want to find the person responsible and shove my Trader Joe's, inexpensive, unbleached, used organic vag bullets down their throat:
Please note the butterflies emerging from the pantyliner. Butterflies do NOT fly out of a cotton ponies - at least, they shouldn't. Unless they landed and pupated in there, or something, butterflies do not fly out of one's crotch.
Moths, maybe.
So, what are they trying to tell me - that I'm a) old, and b) premenstrual? That I need something to catch my clots and my pants accidents? That I'm basically one step away from bleeding out while pissing into my Depends® before shitting myself, and I should perhaps start thinking about putting my affairs in order, fuck off, and die. Thanks, Personal Products Company.* Thanks...a lot.
And now, for even more pants-wetting goodness: water, with oxygen...and LOVE!
H2OM Water with Intention "Love" - Only in L.A. Dude, I'm not sure I want love in my water. Shit's not sanitary.**
*"So, where do you work, Bob?" "I'm glad you asked, Rob. I work for Personal Products Company, a division of McNeil-PPC, Inc., a leader in the consumer oral and women's health markets with MONISTAT® vaginal yeast cures, and K-Y® personal lubricant, as well as a line of sanitary products." "Uh...grrreeeat. Hey, isn't that Midge over there? I think I'll go get a refill on my vodka tonic."
**I did not purchase this.
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