Archives for posts with tag: Funny

Those of you who work in media buying, pay attention – this post might be about you.

Have you seen Jamie Oliver’s new show “Food Revolution” yet?

It’s an interesting concept: teach people how to NOT kill themselves – and their offspring – with crappy, frozen, convenient food, and instead, teach them how to start eating right. Novel idea (shaking my head).

On his website, Jamie has a pdf that speaks to a lot of issues with the food that is being served to kids in school on a daily basis, and the show really highlights how incredibly stubborn people can be when it comes to implementing change.

Dipping sauce? Oh, yeah. Big fan.

In one episode he debunks the theory that buying prepared, frozen food is faster and cheaper than making the same meal fresh. He took a box of frozen chicken strips for $8 and then bought fresh chicken and breading for under $5, made it from scratch and to the table in less time than it took to cook the frozen ones.

Here’s the real kicker: he used 6 ingredients. On the box of frozen ones it lists more than 10. He goes on to talk about preservatives (sodium phosphate) and additives (monosodium glutamate) and all the other chemicals that go into frozen food to keep it from rotting.

The underlying theme for the show is this: YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT, SO DON’T EAT SHIT.

So, I’m watching this thinking that I’m going to have to take a look at the sides of the boxes of shit in my freezer, when they break for commercial and I see an ad for pre-cut, pre-washed, ready to boil chunks of potato to help us busy-folk make mashed faster – fresh from your grocer’s freezer.

Nice work on THAT media buy, dipshit. Oh, I get the demographic workup and the target base, but how about WATCHING the program to see if your product fits the theme? Why not look at the synopsis for the program before just buying ad space based on specialty channel viewer profiles? Jamie Oliver just finished telling you how prepared food is bad for you and making it yourself is just as easy… but no, by all means, tell me more of your fantastic, time saving, pre-washed/cut/cubed/sodium-phosphate-enriched, frozen-in-a-bag staple.


PS – here’s a link to a wikid chicken strip recipe from Black Health Now.

Recognize the sign of the HI-5

Know how to spot a high-five

Runners, like boaters and bikers, have an unspoken rule that when passing a fellow enthusiast, it is common to acknowledge a comrade with a slight wave.

I like to take it a step further by actively seeking a high five.

In fact, when on a race, I will go out of my way to get a high-five from each and every volunteer police officer helping to direct traffic. Both as a sign of respect and thanks, as well as the funny looks you get on the approach and the warm smiles you get on take away.

Much to my chagrin, while on a stupid long run this weekend, lo and behold I happen to pass a group of fellow runners and I throw up the hand… and get completely snubbed.

How uncool. How un-fraternal. How come?

Please, lets all try a little harder next time to recognize the sign of someone looking to share in your enthusiasm and spirit and also to help perhaps motivate you to push through your next mile.

Stings, folks.

Sweet n Salty Breakfast Goodness

The late-for-work breakfast of champion dads everywhere.

Like most of you, I typically don’t have time for breakfast Mon-Fri – hit snooze twice, took longer to wash with that sliver of soap, kids not cooperating, rush to get them to school – so I tend to carry myself through to lunch on coffee and, if I remember to grab one, a Sweet ‘n Salty bar.

Come the weekend, I’m all about breakfast. Brew a pot of joe and weigh out what I’m going to tuck in to: bacon and eggs, pancakes, or my private guilty pleasure, a big bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Damn I love that stuff! My wife doesn’t like it when I come home from shopping with a box because she doesn’t want the kids eating the sugary junk, but if I see it on sale (or even if it’s not), I can’t help but pick me up some.

Here’s the thing: Cap’n Crunch tears the crap out of my mouth each and every time I eat it. And bacon? Bacon just hurts. Pancakes are painless but I almost always burn myself on the pan somehow… But despite all of that, I keep coming back for more Cap’n. And why? It actually hurts to eat it. The roof of my mouth, the gumline behind my bottom front teeth, the inevitable bitten cheek, it all adds up to pure unadulterated discomfort for the rest of the day, and yet I still love it.

Gotta love the Cap'n!


Nostalgia? Not really.

Because I get some kick-ass prizes in every box? Not a one.

Those ingenious mazes and puzzles printed on the back? Um…

It’s just that good? Well, yeah! I guess…

My point is that even though there are hundreds of other cereal choices of equal and greater sugar content, I would gladly pass them over (on sale or not) to grab a box of Cap’s chunks of chewy glass. Does that qualify as brand loyalty? It does in my books. And if anyone were to ask me, “What’s your favourite cereal that you would sacrifice all other cereals to have?”, I would sardonically reply with more than just a vote for the blue-suited skipper, but would highly recommend it to said inquisitor (and even footnote the endorsement with the caveat regarding the oral lacerations to come).

Would your customers do that for you? What would you have to give them to get that kind of sponsorship? What about you? What will you suffer through even though an alternative exists?

If you’re like me, grab a bowl of those crunchy, stick-in-your-teeth, scrape-the-shit-out-of-your-mouth, corn-based barrel-bites of awesome and skip on the hot sauce and lemonade for the day.

I am amazed on a daily basis at how pre-programmed we are as a society, and how stupid and lazy we are becoming.

Case in point: a 4-way intersection in a mall parking lot, one way has stop signs, one doesn’t. Inevitably, the people without the stop sign stop, while those with the stop sign wait for them to figure out the other doesn’t have to stop, and thus begins the cursing. Racoons have opposable thumbs that allow them to open garbage cans, just like we have eyes and a brain that allows us to see things and interpret what we are seeing. If you don’t see a stop sign, do you really need to sit and wait for that person in the car on the left yelling at you to go first?

Safety-wise, of course, by all means slow down and make sure you’re not going to kill someone. Stop, even! But for the love of Bruce, LOOK AROUND!

We are so programmed to expect certain criteria/rules/inputs/actions that we have lost the ability to not only assess a common situation, but also the ability to improvise and think for ourselves. This is just plain lazy.

I almost hope this would happen...

Saturday mornings I bring my daughter to dance class and while she’s there I step over to the Tim Horton’s for breakfast treats. This particular Tim’s has two fundamental problems:

  1. It’s too small for the Saturday morning traffic crowd (this is especially annoying when it’s below zero outside and assbag behind you is holding the door open because they can’t fit all the way in, and there ain’t no way he’s going to wait!);
  2. It’s staffed with really dumb kids.

Point 1 – This is a combination of a lack of manners and the inability to recognize that wind and cold do not subscribe to the Les Nessman book of Invisible Boundaries. But it does strike of a lemming-esque trait that forces people in lines to expect that the line will suddenly start flooding forward, despite having been in the same line time and again.

Point 2 – Let’s face it (and even as I write this I realize how old it makes me sound), but kids are just plain lazy/dumb. Dumber than just a few years ago. And NO, I don’t have a prescription for arthritis meds nor did I walk 5 miles in the snow uphill to school when I was a kid, but I just can’t believe how brainless teens are. Ask for a slight modification to your bagel and best of luck to you. It’s like throwing a couple of foreign words into a sentence “Can I get two bagels, please? One toasted with butter and one blungawallakop eentorpit?“. The blank stare was the tell that I had a snowball’s chance in Hell at getting what I ordered, and all because they don’t have a button for eentorpit and the poor cashier just couldn’t be bothered to ask for help or look to see if there was a way to punch that in.

I picked up come Corona the other day and dropped into the grocery store for some limes. 4 for $1. Bagged them, dropped them on the conveyor belt at the cash, and the chicken-hawk teller looks for the little sticker with the produce code on it, which unfortunately is missing. “Heh, heh… Ummm, what are these things?”, he says. Come on! So, without a sticker with a number that gets keyed into a database to help this poor schmo identify what type of commonly found fruit he was holding he was utterly lost… It’s a LIME! A LIME!! WTF!? You need your cash register to tell you it’s A LIME!?!

I guess what I’m really getting at is the fact that the evolution of our society, and adoption-bred dependence upon technology, has decreased our ability to think for ourselves and (Jeff help us) retain our own internal database of information, and has created a world where the GUI and accessibility of information makes or breaks things.

Take the metric on web traffic that says “you have 5 seconds to grab someone’s attention and let them know you have something that will interest them,” and apply that to life – if I have to look for something that I expect to be there and can’t find it, I will start over again. What ever happened to self-reliance? What about taking the time to figure shit out for yourself?

Welcome to the future of us –

if ( = true) {



else if ( = false) {

return [error.code.404];


utter [“duh…”];

abandon.all.hope (this “”);


Personally, I don’t have a vanity plate for my car although I am toying with the idea of getting one that relates to my business. My father, the proud papa that he is, has one advertising his familial pride and my kids think its great. I do too. It shows humility and dedication to his family.

Then there are plates you see that remind me Bumper Stumpers, a quirky little Canadian game-show that featured fictional vanity plates that contestants had to decipher for cash. Ones like ROCDRMR and GR8ADS, etc. There’s also a bunch I’ve seen around Toronto that all start with VE3… I’ve heard that it’s something in another language but I’m still waiting on confirmation of that.

Which brings me now to a plate I saw the other day  –

Vanity license plate that makes you look twice.

Vanity license plate that makes you look twice.

That’s right, GUNT. And NO, I did NOT Photoshop this or find it on the web somewhere – this is an actual license plate driving around Toronto.

I don’t know if its the owner’s last name (bummer if it is, sorry about that), or if it has something to do with their profession (your guess is as good as mine), but to be honest I like to think that this person has a killer sense of humour and managed to pull of an outstanding coup by not only ordering, but receiving this plate.

For those of you who live under a rock, the word GUNT refers to the paunch some people get below the belly button leading down to the nether regions. It’s a “clever” mash-up of two words, similar to BRUNCH, that not only helps to perfectly describe the area, but also adds that level of incredulity to the word that makes people second guess what it is you’ve said.

So my question is this: Who fell asleep behind the wheel at the Licensing Bureau that let this nugget slip through?

At any rate, vanity plates are great and to-date more than likely create a steady rate of income for the state (province). Holy Dr. Suess.

If you have one does it tell people about you personally, or speak to your business offerings, or does it simply smack society in the face and make them chuckle at your wittiness or unfortunate circumstance?

If I decide to get one, I’m shooting for option 3, just like Mr or Mrs Gunt did.