My engineering-major husband liked to joke that to earn my degree I watched television and analyzed commercials. This is true. I would rather be watching commercials than plowing through hours of complex math problems that take 4 sheets of paper to solve when both paths resulted in a college degree.

Therefore I feel somewhat qualified to rant on the Dodge Charger spot from the Super Bowl last night.  When the commercial started with those tired looking guys listing all the things they do everyday I had a feeling where it was going, and I wasn’t wrong.  It was described as a “defeated man launching into an internal tirade against a castrating little wife” and ranked as one of the ”best” ads in unscientific polls.

Seriously people…WTF?

I’ll stay away from the fact that Chrysler is basically owned by the government and that its only thanks to a gigantic bailout that this brand even still exists.  I’ll also refrain from a discussion of how much this commercial cost to produce and air, again if not using government money then certainly thanks in part.

I would like to point out that in playing into these same sexist stereotypes of men always being nagged by the woman and never getting to do what they want because they appear to be dragged down by marriage and family, Chrysler proves that they didn’t learn anything from events over the last 2 years and they still believe perpetuating the good ol’boys network is the way to go.

I should mention that numerous studies show marriage is highly beneficial to men in terms of longevity, happiness, and overall health while having the opposite effect for women.  Poor you commercial-guy, for having a job and all those responsibilities.  I know plenty of people who would love to have a job and a family – some have neither.

At the risk of sounding hyper-sensitive, I was really offended by this spot. 

Perhaps it was the fact that I’ve been spending a lot of time immersed in yoga teachings lately, learning that THINGS won’t make you happy and neither will negative perceptions about how much your work and life suck.  If you don’t want to do those things, then don’t.  If you don’t want to live that life or be in a partnership, then don’t.  It’s as easy as that.

Perhaps it’s because marriage should be a relationship of equals and when it comes to major purchases there should be  none of this “I’m going to do what I want” garbage.  Maybe if more people had actual conversations about finance there would be less debt and less divorce.

Perhaps it’s because I have a better marriage than that, and I want my daughter to have better than some loser who thinks she is a burden to his imagined free-wheeling lifestyle. 

Perhaps I just took offense to the amount of money spent on continued stereotyping rather than original thought.  I’m starting to despise the advertising industry for their lack of creativity and perpetually enforcing and teaching notions that degrade both men and women.  Then again, I am more astounded by the number of people who, lemming-like, think this qualifies as a great commercial without taking any time to really think about it.

There is a theory that every single thought and action affects the overall happiness of the world and that we are all affected by problems other people are having, no matter how irrelevant it may seem to you.  Think of us as all standing in one big giant line, waiting for help from whatever God or god you pray to.  By clearing out some of the negativity you hold on to, you make room for other people to work on clearing theirs and then you are in a position to help them do so.  Further, if you can approach things positively you never get in the line in the first place.

If you watched the show Undercover Boss that was on right after the Super Bowl, maybe you were inspired by the people working hard clearing up trash and cleaning port-a-potties and never bitching about the work.  Those are the people who are contributing to the happiness of the world and putting that theory into practice.

I recognize that there probably was very little thought put into this ad other than trying to make it funny.  Certainly, suited execs sitting around the table while some eager creative director pitched it to them didn’t stop to pontificate whether some over-burdened guy would then go out and buy a car without discussing it in the grand scheme of family finances, thus leading to a marital rift. 

I remember clearly the PR mantra that there is no bad publicity, (at least that’s what we would tell ourselves in the midst of a PR debacle) so any discussion over the ad is probably considered good for the brand.

I just think we can do better.  Better than accept this as one of the best, most creative commercials out there.  Better than to accept that any married, employed man is burdened by those things and that no matter what the person he’s talking to thinks he’s going to do what he feels like.

Come on Chrysler and Go-Daddy (not touching this one, BTW) and my fellow Ad/PR grads…YOU CAN DO BETTER.

I would like to first say that I’m immensely enjoying having more HD channels and have now gotten to the point that watching regular TV causes me to squint and complain that the people are fuzzy, and I admit this practically over my dead body because really the amount of grief my husband took for getting rid of our other TV is embarrassing now that I know what I’ve been missing.

HOWEVER.

Remember way back when we signed up and you ASSURED us both online and over the phone that we could keep our phone number in this bundle of a deal?  Not that I really cared that much because no one calls us anyway except our parents and the Fraternal Order of Police who I am convinced are going to target me if I don’t give them money, but still. 

Anyway, first you told us that our old service provider needed to release the number.  Then you told us that you had it but it took a few days to transfer.  Then you told us it was transferred and HMMM why doesn’t it work?  Then you said that it was elevated to a supervisor and you’d let us know.  Finally, just like I’d been saying all along you admitted you f-ed it up and our old number was gone gone GONE.  You don’t know what happened to it, except that maybe, just maybe we shouldn’t have set it free in the first place because if it was really meant to be ours it would have come back.

Turns out that lots of people did use that number, people that wanted to bring me FOOD after I had a BABY and when faced with a ring that never answered just said, “Eh forget it.  They must be so busy they don’t need dinner.”  Which was not TRUE AT ALL.  Ahem.

Then to add insult to injury, you started billing us for the old number and kept billing us even after we repeatedly explained that not only did we not have that number, but that it was YOUR FAULT we didn’t have it anymore.  Finally, someone over there was able to pull thier head out of thier ass long enough to stop new charges from being added, but that same someone must have retreated back to safety before actually erasing the debt.

Because now, after repeated phone calls where we’ve tried in good faith to straighten this out, this weekend I got a bill from a collection agency warning me that my credit was about to be tarnished and oh, yeah that you, my service provider, does not like me anymore.  Boo hoo.

FIOS with all your HD channels, you are a vicious mistress, because all threats to switch back to my old cable and phone provider are idle and empty, and you know it don’t you? 

I hate you, and yet I can’t quit you,

Heather

And the fact that I almost LOST IT when the photographer touched Emily Kate’s face in a futile attempt to wake her up.

And that I spent most of the time trying to keep Alex from touching his face, because I am a germ-o-phobic like that.  My fear of cooties was well founded because…

Now Alex has PINK EYE.

Pink eye. 

The virus that strikes fear in the heart of contact lens wearers because it means you’ll be stuck wearing glasses for at least a week.  If you are like me – legally blind and wearing contacts for 15 hours a day - you don’t take the time to replace your glasses very often and are likely wearing the same ones you picked out and were groovin’ in back in 1999.

All day long, my eyes have been twitching just trying to trick me into touching them.  Soon, without thinking I will unconcsiously find myself rubbing my tired eyes, which will be shortly followed by the sticky, lime-colored ooze that had Alex wandering into my bedroom this morning with one eye glued shut.

Ugh.

In the meantime, I’m sewing together mittens made out of Clorox wipes and trying to ignore the tingly sensations of viruses conga-ing across my eyeballs.

Lately, I’ve had an urge to get a family portrait taken.  Seeing as how Alex hasn’t had a professional picture taken since he was 6 months old, I’ve recently gotten fabulous highlights, and 3 have become 4, now seemed like the perfect time.

I made an appointment for 10:30am because that is the time of the day that usually presents itself as the eye of the hurricane.  At 10:30, Alex will have just finished some quiet time and a snack, Emily Kate will have just finished a nap and a bottle, I’ll have had time to brush my teeth, etc.

Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to get the four of us dressed, groomed, and out of the house in a state suitable for eternal preservation on film?

Imagine my dismay when we arrived in our finest coordinated outfits and having practiced saying “cheese” that very morning to find that the photographer was running “just a little late”.

“How late is a little?” I inquire.

“Maybe 20 minutes…”

Allrighty.  Perhaps 20 minutes is doable.  We should still be in the eye of the storm, although starting to move toward high winds.

At the half hour mark, I again asked how much longer we’d be kept waiting. 

“We have maybe 3 more shots.”

I felt the heat rise in my face, and the irritation segue into full on dismay.

FORTY-FIVE EFFING MINUTES LATER the photographer is “ready for ya!  Come on back!” 

By this time, no one really feels like saying “cheese.”  My almost-2-year-old has had enough before we even start.  The baby has passed the cooing and smiling stage and moved into this:

zzzzz…brightlightwha?i’m floating in space…zzzz…

From sears_sucks

Great picture of my highlights, but WHAT is going on with that background?

From portraits

Hello hair…

From portraits

And more hair…but on a completely unrelated note I zipped those jeans with nary a muffin top and I have a 10 WEEK OLD.

From portraits

Aside from the fact that we were kept waiting close to an hour by the time the first picture was taken, AND that the photographer displayed as much skill behind the camera as someone who’d recently been fired from 7-11, AND that Brett took a day off work to take part in this debacle we’ll call a photo shoot which resulted in maybe 5 usable pictures…

I DID appreciate the manager agreeing with me when I informed her that she’d enhance this crap for free instead of the usual $7 per mouse click fee.  And I ADMIRE her for still having the balls to ask me if I wished to join the Smile Saver Club for a mere $29.99.

Unfortunately, I will have to decline that kind invitation as this experience reminded me why it’s been a year and half since the last photo shoot, and has set Alex on course to have his next professional portrait taken on picture day when he starts first grade in 2012.

Saying “cheese” through gritted teeth and bile in my throat,

Heather