I’m always intrigued by banner ads that catch my eye but confuse me as to what they’re selling. As someone who works in advertising and marketing, you’d think I would be far past trying to justify the “Sex sells” mentality, but I’m simply not.

I mean, should I be led to believe that a shapely middle-eastern woman is why I should “Think Israel” for my next vacation? While the thought of a dark, exotic woman in a swimsuit is certainly appealing, I can think of many places I could go to see that, the internet not withstanding. And certainly Israel has far more to offer. Assuming that I would in fact see the subject of this ad there, I would likely be distracted by the millennia-long history of the area.

I suppose that the skyline is an apology, in a way, but this is just silly. Does this sort of advertising actually work? Am I contributing to its effect by noticing it? See also : True boobies.

In response to Da Vinci code controversy, Sir Ian McKellan makes a statement that any thinking man has already considered. My most-honoured girlfriend, the Raggedy Android, was forced to retaliate with sophomoric rebuttal.

SB: I guess Newsbusters is a conservative thing. In the comments, they immediately go after McKellan for being gay.
RA: You know how I know you’re gay?
RA: Because you hate Christ.
SB: Brilliant!

I hate my butt.

Make sure we are clear about the subject here. I have a relatively fat-free, strong, round, mammalian mesomorph gluteus. Like most ape-men, my fat cells avoid the limbs and clambor toward the temporal climate of the torso. So, as much extra baggage as I have, I could only coloquially be considered a “fat-ass.”

No, my loathing of my posterior region is not aesthetic in nature. While I am partial to the baggier style of clothing, even through my sagging jeans one can proclaim the ferrous alloy aspect of my “buns.”

“Well, what then?” you may well ask. “If you’re so enamored with the pleasantly curved cheeks of your manly yet pouty rump — as are we all, you beautiful bastard — then why the whinging?”

I will elucidate, never you fear. In truth, while my shapely buttocks are seemingly unaffected by gravity, forever perched on that pinnacle of pert and perky perfection, they do shelter a hidden secret. Though no one but me could ever know this*, they are in fact… flawed. And this imperfection, while concealed from the adoring public, conspires to remind me of basic entropic principles. Even this monument to the masculine ideal is slowly crumbling.

* Unless, of course, if I were to extoll the horrible truth. On a public website, for example.

What follows could be described as Too Much Information, by almost everyone. You have been warned.

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Something about this handy document that makes me smile.

Notes on Neil-Handling

Girl, 11, will be Britain’s youngest mother | the Daily Mail

The girl smokes 20 cigarettes a day despite being eight months’ pregnant. She conceived aged 11 when she lost her virginity to a boy of 15 on a drunken night out with friends.

A drunken night out with friends. Losing your virginity at 11. Twenty cigarettes a day during the pregnancy. That baby’s going to come out looking and sounding like Tom Waits after a week-long bender in Tijuana.

Warning: The rest of this post is highly vitriolic and filled with harsh language.

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They.
are.
making.
a.
sequel.
to.
that.
Garfield.
movie.

Hey Hollywood. The next time an idea like this crosses your mind and you decide to invest all kinds of cash, send me $50,000 instead and I’ll talk you out of it. I’ll be a millionaire in three days.

Garfield’s A Tale of Two Kitties (2006)

They’re getting vicious over there are the MKEonline blog contest, pitting two of my favorite bloggers and co-workers against one another in a battle of epic proportions. The split vote will probably mean that both ladies, who have each been nominated twice before, will be unfairly snubbed once again. You, internet, must not let that happen.

For what it’s worth, girls, BBlinks and Czeltic Girl are my blogs of the week every week.

mkeonline.com: blog of the week

This morning, I woke up slightly before my 7a.m. alarm. When this happens, I roll over and press up against my girlfriend. Her skin is always slightly warmer and softer than mine, so she makes a fine body pillow. Some call this behavior “spooning.”

The issue with “spooning,” as the Swiss refer to it, is that human beings have arms. Two, to be precise. And the specific issue with my “spooning” is the my arm from wrist to elbow crook is significantly longer in length than my girlfriend’s ribcage when lying on her side. So my arm can either interrupt her sleep and sneak up under hers, or just rest gently on her hip or thigh.

I chose the slightly more courteous but uncomfortable position, one arm pinned under my head, elbow pointed up as though I were scratching my back by reaching over my shoulder and the other on display at the promontory of her hip.

It is important at this time that you have a clear visual.
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As promised, BB posted her photos of the immigration rally that paraded past our building. They are awesome, in the literal sense.

Milwaukee Immigrant March on Flickr – Photo Sharing!

First of all, the line is “…how deep the rabbit hole goes,” which seems more fitting for the advertisement, so why not use it? Second, even with the corrrect line, that sounds like it might be unpleasant. And judging from the somewhat bored expression on the woman’s face… well, that might be Botox.

See also : Techno Rave