The Real Super Bowl Battle: Commercials. Vote Now!

Oh sure, we all know that Sunday’s Super Bowl will be an epic battle between two epic teams: The San Francisco 49ers and some other group of guys who haven’t been to a Super Bowl in 50 years.

Note: It’s just a little joke, folks. Simmer down.

I digress, because today’s your lucky day. I mean literally. We all know that Sunday’s battle isn’t just about football. It’s about marketing. And commercials.

Unbelievably, I was able to access a couple of 2020 Super Bowl commercials in advance via my special sources (i.e. The Internet).

Folks, I see a battle brewing between two powerhouses.

Leading the pack, IMHO, is Ellen with her wit, production savvy and deadpan approach. And then there’s Lil Nas, the Lanky Cowboy ridin’ ’til he can’t no more.

Note: Can’t nobody tell me nothin’.

Ellen has her supporting cast: Portia, a Court Jester and a guy with a bare bum. 

Lil Nas has his supporting cast as well: Sam Elliott (with a mustache maneuver leaving me weak in the knees) and Billy Ray Cyrus, with a fully-covered bum, thank goodness.

So, here’s your task. Watch the two front-running Super Bowl 2020 Commercial Contenders. And then:

1. Vote for your favorite in the comments!
2. Vote for your favorite as often as you want!
3. Don’t vote at all but watch them over and over again, which I see as the likely scenario but indulge me. A little.

First up: Ellen (Sorry about the brief promo. I guess I don’t have the clout that I thought I had.)

Now for Lil Nas & Sam:

So, Vote Now! Let your voice be heard! And … all these commercials are making me feel a little snacky.

“Hey Alexa! Order me some Cool Ranch Doritos!”

Go Niners!

I don’t think that means what you think it means.

To make a short story long, because that’s kind of my jam, let me tell you a little bit about the way that public schools work these days. Well, at least in the great state of California.

In an effort to help keep our kids healthy and fight the legitimate obesity epidemic facing our children, sugar is pretty much banned at schools. Specifically on birthdays. I remember as a kid, we brought cupcakes and it was a fun little party for us. And, I DO get that doing this 25 times a year is probably not the healthiest option for kids.

But, what has happened, is that we are encouraged to send non-edible items for our kids to share with the class. Which, to me, is worse. Because 25 times a year (50 for me, since I’ve got 2 kids), little goodie bags of pencils, erasers, stickers, temporary tattoos and some sort of noise maker come home.

So, in my effort to defy this new convention, I refuse to buy goodie bags (which aren’t cheap!) and, instead, turned to Oriental Trading to buy little plush characters for the kids to take to their classes.

And while I’m pro-tipping you here, please note that Oriental Trading resells on Amazon, so you can get free Prime shipping on these little goodies.

My son took Minecraft buddies in November.

I mean, that’s kind of adorable, right? Even if Minecraft isn’t your jam.

Well, my daughter’s 6th birthday was here and she needed to pick her item. It would shock no one who knows her to know she wanted little cats. And we found some really cute ones for under $2 a piece.

While adorning them with little tags for her birthday (because presentation matters, people), though, I noticed the packaging and had quite a chuckle.

REALISTIC plush cats, it says

As previously discussed, I like cats as much as anyone. But, I can definitely tell you that this is decidedly not realistic. Cute, yes. Realistic, no.

Unlike these cats of nightmares you can get on aliexpress for $27.

But, it got me thinking, I bet there are all kinds of hilarious advertising fails on the internet. And, boy, did the internet not disappoint.

So, for your Wednesday enjoyment – my favorite advertising fails:

But it sure is aspirational, isn’t it?

But, okay, for cat people, this IS pretty funny.

To be fair, percentages are confusing. Someone must have forgotten to cross multiply.

Although, I’m picturing cats and dogs at the scale of these to the trees, and that’s a pretty terrifying alternative version of the Jurassic period.

Okay, so I know this one’s not really an advertising fail, but that image of the scissors needed to release the scissors made me for-real LOL for a solid 30 seconds. So, it made the list.

Yours truly, Oleander

I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing. In Perfect Harmony.

We live in a weird world, folks. 

We live in a weird, divisive world where everybody has an opinion about literally everything. And everybody feels that their opinion is actually a fact, which it is not. It’s an opinion. Let’s clarify:

Opinion: “A view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge.”

For example, “Blondes have more fun.” Oh wait, that’s actually a fact. Sorry for the confusion.

Fact: “A thing that is known or proved to be true, the truth about events as opposed to interpretation.”

For example, “Blondes have more fun.”

Now, that we’ve cleared that up, let’s get to the topic at hand, because I promise that there is a point to all of this.

So, life is all about perception, really. And our perceptions shape our versions of reality. We all have opinions about politics, religion, Coke vs. Pepsi and other pressing social issues.   Sometimes I tire of the vitriol spewed so easily on the internet by anyone who may disagree with someone else’s opinion. 

Opinions aren’t facts. And in this world of divisiveness, I desire to bring us together, to find somewhere we can all meet, unified as One in peace, joy and perfect harmony.  And Coke.

It’s the Real Thing. Coke is, I mean.

Just as seems that perfect harmony, perfect love and a perfect specimen of a man may never exist in our divided world, Jimmy Garoppolo, the San Francisco 49ers quarterback, with the jet black hair, deep brown eyes, brilliant smile and the wink enters the scene.

It doesn’t matter if you are a 49er fan. Heck, it doesn’t matter if you are a football fan. Heck, it doesn’t matter if you are legally blind in your left eye. We can all agree. Because in the “Top Ten List of Beautiful Men that Unify the World in Perfect Harmony,” JimmyG holds the first five spots.

Note: And that’s an actual fact!

1. I mean, come on now.

2. Is he even a real person?

3. Yeah, Jimmy G. You’re number one. And number two. And number three. And so on.

4. The pearly whites. Kudos to the orthodontist involved in this situation.

5. Perfectly crinkled shirt.

Happy Super Bowl Week! Go Niners!

Heck, yes!

Don’t Call Me Sweetheart

I’ve got to be honest with you. I’m a pretty empowered modern woman. As a single, working mom, I think I strike the balance between successful career-woman and fun-loving mama really well.

Just ask my daughter, who described me yesterday as “Really weird. But, the good kind of weird that talks in funny voices and laughs a lot.”

But, in our house you’re just as likely to find my kiddos planning an elaborate Hatchimal dance party as your are to find them preparing for an epic hot wheels showdown. Rainbows and sparkles are regularly the choice of colors for decor and art work, just as much as Ninjago or Minecraft will be the LEGO selection. Both kids feel pretty safe liking whatever they like and being themselves.

But, given the the 18-inch long blonde hair and Disney-princess sized blue eyes that my daughter has, I’m constantly prepared to redirect people’s comments that fixate on her looks, because we know better now, right?

Pretty much. But with less makeup. ha.

Well, imagine my panic when I took her to her first basketball practice and this went down:

(It’s worth nothing that in Kindergarten, the rec league is co-ed and my daughter is one of two girls on her team.)

She’s running up and down the court as fast as anyone and bouncing like a little pogo stick when “defending.” It really is a heartwarming sight.

And then, she has the ball! And so we’re all shouting, “shoot it! shoot it!” And, then I hear it. The coaches voice loud above the rest, “Shoot it, sweetheart!”

My heart sinks. Not that I think it’s never appropriate for someone to call my daughter sweetheart. But, certainly not for her basketball coach – whom she’s known for all of 45 minutes – in the middle of a game.

So, the game ends and I’m still all irritated about the sweetheart comment – undermining all that work I’ve been doing to build up a strong, confident woman – and I walk over and tell her she did a great job.

She looks me right in the eye and goes “Of course I did, mom. I can do anything.”

And I realize I can stand down. She’s going to be just fine.

But, just in case anyone needs a reference guide in how to refer to little girls or women (or, just people in general), here are some options:

1. Their name
2. Rock star
3. Their name
4. Bad ass (okay, maybe that one’s just for me)
5. Their name
6. Captain (or matey, depending on their seniority level)
7. Oh, did I mention their name

– Oleander

Big, Swinging Belly. For Reals?

The sign posted on the telephone pole in my neighborhood stops me dead in my tracks.

LOST PET!

Oh dear. A Lost Pet? What is worse than a lost pet?

So, I take a closer look. The sign has a big color photo of a missing cat with a short description of the animal.

Does that say what I think it says?

Wait. What?

A Big, Swinging Belly?

Note: Do her boobs hang low, do they wobble to and fro?

A Big, Swinging Belly. Really? After years of service to her people, this creature’s defining characteristic is her big, swinging belly?

Note: Haven’t we come farther than this, as a society?

But it’s got me to thinking. About society. And big bellies, kind of. And descriptors. And perception. And lots of deep stuff that I’m prone to thinking about.

What if I, Bacon, went missing and photos of my face, or worse, photos of my big swinging belly were plastered about town on phone poles where dogs gather to do their business? How does that sign describe me? What is my defining trait to the eye of a Local Search and Rescue Team?

Note: It goes without saying that the photo of me on the telephone pole would be my current driver’s license photo because it’s AMAZING. The Hub has been instructed that should I ever be abducted by aliens or if Oleander is forced to gnaw my arm off in a snow cave to save my very life, the photo of me that must be released to the general public is my driver’s license photo.

I am a freaking goddess!

Right? In fact, perhaps I should just release it to the general public. In general.

I digress.

What would the sign say about me? How does the world perceive Bacon, a fifty-something woman who has seen better days (and most of them are ahead, by the way).

LOST! Feisty with surprisingly lustrous hair!

LOST! Friendly (doesn’t bite) with legs like toothpicks!

LOST! Overly dramatic, with a stiff neck in cold weather!

I don’t know about all this stuff. And maybe that’s why Bacon’s back, telling it like it is, leaving a somewhat questionable legacy to the world and reminding women that we are relevant in spite of age, salary, societal expectations or big, swinging bellies.

I can’t take much more of this deep thinking, so I’m going back to my own LOST! poster. One thing is for sure:

LOST! Last seen swigging a Diet Coke in the Target Parking Lot.

Heck, yes!

–Bacon. Hey, Oleander. You’re up!

Cat Lady

Not long ago, if you’d have asked me to classify myself as a “Dog Person” or a “Cat Person”, I would have, without hesitation, declared myself a dog person.

I mean, dogs love you, right? They long to please you and learn to obey your commands.

Cats? Well, cats want everything on their terms. They can be aloof and overly independent. They will inevitably destroy things. And they will never listen to you. Ever.

And yet, I had promised the kids that when we eventually moved out of our rental home, we could get a pet. So, last May when I bought our home, I made good on that promise.

We spent a few weekends out meeting cats. I wanted an adult cat. But, if you’ve ever met a kitten, you know that it’s impossible to walk away from their floof. So, when we met the fluffiest little calico kitty (then named “Elsa” at the shelter), we knew she was coming home with us.

I mean…the floof!

We brought her home and named her Bay (after the nearby San Francisco Bay and beautiful waterside town in which we live). And very quickly I learned a few things about cats.

1. Cats DO want everything on their terms. You can’t tell a cat what to do. You can try. But, like a toddler, you have to accept that most of your instructions are going to go ignored and, even, blatantly disregarded. And everything you love? Yes, all of it will be destroyed. Furniture, curtains, kick knacks on shelves the can be knocked over, plants…it’s all fair game.

How many times have we gone to a different bathroom to wash our hands because the cat is occupying the one we need…

2. But, cats also do love you. Bay is downright obsessed with me. There’s nothing I can be doing that isn’t of immediate interest to her. She climbs up me like a tree and perches herself on my shoulder 4-5 times a day just to see what I’m up to. She sleeps as close to me as is physically possible and is, honestly, never more than 10 feet away from me when I’m home.
   

Seriously. Obsessed.

3. I don’t have to be home all the time. Dogs get lonely and they get pent up energy and really can’t be left alone for extended periods. Despite Bay’s obsession with me, when I go into the City for the day for work or go to the cabin for a few days, she’s perfectly fine (so long as there’s plenty of food and water, of course.

Okay, not like that…

Despite everything, cats are little nuggets of joy. And, it turns out, I might actually be a cat person.

Seriously. Oleander.

When Your Claim to Fame Involves the DMV

Let’s talk driver’s license photos, shall we?

Note: Oleander, you knew this was coming.

I love to talk about my driver’s license photo. In fact, when a cashier asks to see my photo ID, I pull it out, almost gleefully.

No, let’s make that actually gleefully.

 

 

Because, look:

Holy Moses, I am a Goddess!

 

Right? What is happening here, people? This is the DMV! When did the DMV become a veritable Sears Portrait Studio? I even suggested to the photo-taking employee that she should consider a position at Glamour Shots. (Please tell me that place still exists. Or is it now just a sultry, dimly-lit corner of the bedroom and an iPhone?)

So, I get lots of responses to my photo, mainly because of my gleefulness, ranging from “Wow, that’s a really great photo!” to “Wow, that doesn’t even look like you!”

Note: Heck, yes it looks like me.

But a few days ago in the Pharmacy refill line, the tall, somewhat big-bellied, 50ish gentleman behind the counter asked for my ID.

I gleefully produced it.

He looked at my ID. He looked at me. And then he ruined it. He ruined my gleefulness with two words.

Well, technically one word, repeated twice, with a little bit of sweat on his brow.

“Hubba Hubba.”

Hubba Hubba? Is this what single women in my age group deal with? Is this where years of self-help and empowerment and breaking barriers has brought the fiftyish woman? Hubba Hubba?

Note: Oh dear. I think I may have just died a little inside.

 

Hey! Let’s have a little fun.  Run on over to our Bacon and Oleander Facebook Page and post your own Driver’s License photo! (with personal information removed, of course!) Maybe I’ll even give you a little Hubba Hubba of your own …

Seen Around Town

I hope you all had a delightful weekend. The Warriors won again yesterday, so it’s hard to find anything to complain about (unless you wanna talk baseball in Oakland, and then things take a grim turn).

I have a few gripes to share with you today. Recently I’ve come across a few sights that left me wondering what in the actual hell is going on here. And, in one case, lost me $1.50.

Number 1:

My car notified me that one of my tire’s air pressure was getting a little low. Lucky for me, I’ve got a 7-Eleven right up the road that can both provide for my abundant diet soda needs and has an air pump. So, I pull up to the air pump. I glance at it and determine I need $1.25 for 5 minutes of air.

I go inside and request change for my dollar and to convert two dimes and a nickel into a quarter. I now have 5. I walk out to the machine and insert the quarters. At which point…it starts counting down from $1.50. By the time I got back inside and procured another quarter…the machine had reset. Needless to say, I gave up and did not get air that day. But, seriously, can you tell me you’d have gotten this right on the first try:

Number 2:

I’m returning from a walk around the block on my lunch break. I spy this deck coming off a neighbor’s home. The questions in my head are endless. Was this always the plan? Was the mistake the window placement or the deck placement? Did they underestimate the grade of this location? Why is this here? It’s literally 2 feet of deck. No one would ever go out on this. Why is this like this!

Number 3: 

I’m at Target (obviously) and I’m looking at cars (obviously). The kids and I have been reading the junior novelization of Cars 3 as we prepare for its release this month (my son is so excited) so I’m looking at new characters from the movie and I find this. So far as I can tell they are otherwise identical.

Number 4: 

Finally, the kids were having a delightful time playing with PhotoBooth on their iPad the other day. That is until they wanted to use different filters. So, I offered my phone to my son while my daughter continued to use the iPad. No PhotoBooth on the phone, so I quickly downloaded a photo app for him to play with. At one point he runs over to me and says “make a funny face, mama.” I, of course, oblige. He bursts into laughter and runs away.

A few days later I’m looking through the pictures on my phone and I find the picture below. What. In. The. Actual. Hell. I can’t even.

Although I may print a life-size version of this and just hold it in front of my face like a mask next time I need to get air for my tires.

– Oleander

Too Lazy to Read? This Vlog is for You.

We make no apologies for what you’re about to watch.

P.S. Sorry.

 

You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile: Call Me Naked

I am cranky.

Actually, that’s an understatement. I am super cranky.

Yes, if I were superhero I would be Super Crank! And I would billow about the universe with my magical and mystical powers such as glaring at slow checkers at the grocery store and watching them dissolve before my very eyes or honking my horn and gesturing wildly and perhaps even inappropriately at the stupid drivers seem to follow me everywhere and then watching them slowly dissolve. Before my very eyes.

But I digress.

I am cranky because I am currently experiencing one of those vague, truly-agitating medical conditions that people seem to have on the Internet when he/she wants attention but doesn’t want you all up in their grille.

So, while I am recovering from my said vague truly-agitating medical condition from which a full recovery is likely, shall we say, I am feeling super cranky.

Did I already say that? Yes, that’s how cranky I am feeling.

First, let’s talk about this vague truly-agitating medical condition which I will not reveal to the general public. Suffice it to say, Moses should have included it as one of the 10 plagues of Egypt way back in the day. If he had thrown this vague medical condition into the mix pretty early on, I’m thinking that the rest would not even have been required. They would’ve been waving that white flag as fast as you can say Sweet Holy Moses, are you kidding me?

That’s all I’m going to say. Did I mention I was cranky though?

To make matters worse, my granddaughter has been prancing adorably about, singing that little childhood song about turning frowns into smiles. The lyrics go something like this:

If you chance to meet a frown do not let it stay
Quickly turn it upside down and smile that frown away.
No one likes a frowny face, Change it to smile
Make the world a better place by smiling and all the while

Note: What a crock.

But, probably she is right. That comment was just my inner Super Hero trying to sneak out.

So, imagine my delight when Oleander showed me an app that actually that turns frowns into smiles. Yes, actual smiles! I thought I would give it a try.

 

I started with the least pleasant person I could find. If it can help him it can help anyone.

 

And speaking of American presidents, how about George Washington? I know that with those wooden teeth and everything smiling was probably a bit of a chore. But come on George. Give it a whirl!

Note: I bet Martha is feeling a little tingly just looking at this photograph!

 

And Lady Liberty has had one tough year. Welcome to America everyone!

 

Is there anyone grumpier than the American Gothic guy?

Note to my LDS friends: Think Henry B Eyring

Additional Note: Maybe the only person grumpier than the American Gothic guy is her wife. But by the look on her cranky old face, I imagine she is suffering from a vague truly-irritating medical condition which she would rather not divulge.

 

There’s a resemblance.

Heck yes!