A kiss on the hand may be quite continental, but diamonds are totes my bff

 I don’t know about you all, but I keep my jewels safe in a little nook inside a floor tile beneath my toilet. But some people…it’s like they’re asking for their ice to be stolen.

“I just love having houseguests. If you need anything, just ask! Fresh towels are in the bathroom on the hook.”

 ”Great thanks, I might just hop in the shower right now. Oh, hey um….I don’t see any towels in here, just…all…of…your…diamonds.”

 ”Oh! Duhhh! Towel rack, diamond rack, I never remember what goes where anymore! Those are just my right-hand rings. They empower me as a single woman. Anyway, I think I don’t have any more towels since I spent all my money on diamonds because I’m unmarried and unsure that I’ll ever get a man to buy me one. So you can wipe yourself off with this garbage bag. Also, the hot water nozzle is cold and the cold one is hot, so test the water before you get in!”

Best friends forever!

Fly Me Away is right on Target

I was watching my usual NBC Must See TV lineup last night and saw the Target holiday ad about 7 times. The song in the Target commercial is glittery UK duo Goldfrapp‘s “Fly Me Away“. It’s whimsical and pretty and it works well with the rest of the ad’s lovely, white “Snow Princess meets Bullseye” look. I also can’t help but think of the Thompson Twins’ song “If You Were Here”, the  breathy singing and starry, Tinkerbell qualities are shared by both. You know the song I mean- it’s the one that plays while Molly Ringwald’s geeky, gawky Sam sits atop a glass dining room table with her hunk of a senior crush, Jake Ryan, at the end of Sixteen Candles. First of all, how you can sit without worry on top of a sheet of glass is beyond me. My mind’s eye can’t help but see the smashed, broken and bloody shards that would result after two adults climbed up there. BUT that’s just the worrywart in me that presides over everything I do. I’m sure John Hughes found a very stiff glass to work with.  It didn’t distract me from the plot in the slightest. Not. At. All.

The second tangent I’m going on with this is that Goldfrapp makes me hungry because in Massachusetts we call milkshakes “frappes”. It’s just another one of those regional adorabilities that separates the hoagies from the subs. The pop from the cola. The sprinkles from the jimmies.  A Gold Frappe would just be a really fancy, icy cold treat. And of course a White Gold Frappe would be vanilla flavored. And in case you ever meet a Masshole who is thirsty from having too many heavy frappes, please point us to the nearest bubbler. That’s drinking fountain to you Muggles. For more information about regional dialects, click here. See? We inform you about lots of real issues here at ANAWFOS, America is a melting pot of both commercials AND cultures and we seek diversity and tolerance among them both. I still totally hate that Dunkin’ Donuts “Karateeee” commercial though.

The Future Dave Matthews listenin’-hacky sackin’-white-hat-wearin’ Place

I’m not sure who would let their seven-year-old dress like this, or what social factors have influenced these looks more. Is it the Chad Michael Murray/Matt Czuchry/blond guys on the WB look? Or perhaps they are depicting the Duke lacrosse team as children? No matter, all I know is that I would never let my son out of the house looking like he was influenced by a young James Spader. What happened to the Children’s Place I used to love, the place with carpeted blocks to climb on and a big hole in the front wall of the store that you could play in? These kids look like they would stub out their cigarettes on those before taking off in the Jeep.

This one page image is actually part of a two-page spread – the boys are actually eyeing a group of young girls, but it was too creepy (and there was no space on my scanner) to include both pages. What is wrong with depicting kids in footie pajamas and reindeer sweaters? Am I that big of a curmudgeon that this seems inappropriate? It’s probably just the picture. In my photography class in college, we learned that the slightest movement or change in shutter speed could turn a crappy photo into a Pulitzer-winning one. Perhaps the previous photos had an emotional deadness to them that a change in F-stop was able to render with a bit more smarm and privilege and none of the childlike qualities that children should have. Even in Pretty in Pink, Steff looked like he was 45, so these kids just look ridiculous. Sadly, even though they look just like him, I bet these kids have never even heard of James Spader. Maybe that’s my real problem.