Filed under: Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, bathroom, business, entrepreneur, entrepreneurs, family, fresh assist, health, humor, hygeine, start ups, subourbonmom
It’s not often these days that I see commercials that make me pause. Usually I’m skipping through them because I can’t ever seem to actually watch a TV show live, or because I’m too cheap to get the commercial-free version of an app, and I get so irritated I actually shut off the app or turn down the volume until its’ over. But every now and then one makes me stop.
The commercial for Fresh Assist, a spray that you put on toilet paper before you wipe to keep you “clean in between” was pointed out to me the other day, and I have to admit that I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time.
The commercial, like the product, is a little tongue-in-cheek, but it’s hilarious! It’s actually funnier than all the synonyms I found for laying cable in Urban Dictionary. To appreciate the rest of this blog, please take a look at the commercial:
My favorite part is the tiny, creepy smile on the actor’s face when he gets clean, right before the window shot. That was some delicate acting right there. Even creepier then THE SCENE in the movie Deliverance.
To be fair, I know the guy (Howard Deskin) who developed it, and I have to hand it to Howard for finding a marketing hole that’s between TP and those baby wipes for grown-ups. In fact, I never knew this was an issue until folks at work started talking about it. Apparently, dealing with muddy cheeks and having something called “Monkey Butt” are real problems, albeit mostly for men.
(I had to Google Monkey Butt – again, I need to stop Googling things like this: “The uncomfortable result of your ass sweating or sharts. A wet, painful and irritating condition of the butt, causing it to swell and turn red like a monkey’s butt. Can be caused by prolonged wear or wet clothes… lack of wiping, and sweat.”
But no more, my friends. Now, there is an environmentally-friendly solution to this brown pickle.
A local radio show called Elliot in the Morning recently interviewed Howard, and they came up with soooo many puns that I won’t even try. They asked a question I never thought of – so there is proof that there are people sicker than me. Elliot asked Howard how he came up with the final product. Howard explained that he and his wife had tested many different types of products on themselves – that’s right, PETA people, no animal testing for this guy – including shampoo, hand sanitizer and shower gels. Um…hand sanitizer? That would wipe the creepy smile right off Commercial Guy’s face. But even more disconcerting is that because I know him, I now have a vivid picture of all of this happening. I can’t get that image out of my head. But his poo-severance is commendable.
Another thing to note – in addition to the two current flavors (Soothing Lavender and Cooling Chamomile), they are also developing “Refreshing Rosemary” and Vanilla. I’m not sure I want my backside to smell like the roasted chicken I make. But as for the Vanilla, I would love to hear any snazzy brand names they could use – I could only think of “Vaguely Vanilla.”
Fresh Assist. You can even get it on Amazon, and I’m sure it could be delivered to your bathroom door in under an hour using Amazon Prime. In fact, if you’re in the bathroom that long, you probably really do need it. Here is a $1.00 coupon from Amazon – use the coupon code NN8T5Z7B. For more information about Fresh Assist, visit the website at www.freshassistspray.com.
So go get clean in between with Fresh Assist. I just hope Howard doesn’t get too far in the hole on this venture.
Filed under: Misc. Humor | Tags: adulthood, Cannibalism, Donner, Food, game, hannibal lechter, health, humor, hunting, subourbonmom
DISCLAIMER: I AM IN NO WAY CONDONING THE ACT OF KILLING ANOTHER HUMAN OR ANIMAL. SO ALL YOU PSYCHOS OUT THERE, TAKE A STEP BACK AND OWN YOUR OWN CRAZY. I’VE GOT PLENTY OF MY OWN, AND THIS IS NOT PART OF IT.
First let me say I am not a hunter – I know I could never look an animal in the eyes and shoot it, unless a) I was starving, b) the animal was suffering, or c) it was attacking me. (Hubby disagreed and said I couldn’t even then.) With deer hunting season in its final throes, there’s been a lot of discussion where I live about the different tactics for hunting and cleaning deer to keep the meat from tasting gamey. The same day as one of these discussions was going on, while in the gym I saw one of those documentary channels feature stories on cannibalism – it must be the impending cold weather that makes producers think people are considering it. So, as I was listening to yet another dissertation on hunting, the two subjects merged in my weird brain, and I wondered if the same principals of keeping meat form being gamey would apply to cannibalism.
I have the answer to that particular problem, and it could apply to both regular hunting and Cannibalism – not that I’m taking part in a Donner dinner, or planning on hangin’ with Hannibal.
To be brief, I learned that to prevent gaminess in your meat, the animal should be killed quickly, and not chased for long – too much lactic acid builds up and creates the gamey taste. My solution? Road kill.
It’s the perfect solution – it offers the element of surprise, no chasing (unless you’re a really bad driver), and the convenience of having carcass transportation at your fingertips.
Note to self: Just because you are thinking about something doesn’t mean you should Google it.
BIG MISTAKE.
I now have images in my head that can’t be erased. This must be how Daniel Tosh feels after a season of Tosh.0.
First, there was a link to “Why Cannibalism is Bad for You.” Um…were enough folks actually considering this that someone had to write an article on it? The main reason that stuck with me (and there were quite a few), of course, is that Americans as a culture are not a lean protein. In fact, I think we’re probably the bacon of the Cannibalism diet.
Second, I had it confirmed that there are some sick, sick people out there. Apparently, one guy in Germany put out an ad for another male, 18-39 who might be interested in having him eat him. Now maybe it was a colossal miscommunication, but somebody answered it – AND AGREED TO IT. Maybe it’s just me being naive, but wasn’t there a point in that evening when maybe it was time to say, “Hey man, I don’t think this is what I signed up for?”
And finally, there was an actual recipe site. I won’t print it here because I have to draw the line somewhere. But it was actually pretty funny.
So what did I really learn from all of this? Stop watching cheesey documentary channels while I’m at the gym, and get to work losing some weight – I definitely do not want to be bacon.
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, Christmas, decorating, family, holiday, Holidays, humor, kids, Middle-Age, south, southern, subourbonmom, tradition, trees, Virginia, winter
This year I made it my mission to convince our office manager Lacy that she should get a real Christmas tree instead of using the same old plastic one she’s been using for the last few years. After an hour of nagging and convincing her that a real tree smelled better and was a better way to enjoy Christmas, Lacy gave in and got one. When she explained to the folks at Lowes (she went to a store, not even a place outside – mistake #1) that she had never picked a live tree before, and asked who had the most experience with picking out live trees, a German man said “I don’t” and immediately walked away. I don’t think he got the irony that the live Christmas-Tree-in-the-House tradition comes from Germany.
What I didn’t realize was the amount of basic Christmas Tree Knowledge I have accumulated over the years, and that I probably should have passed on:
PICKING OUT A TREE:
Size Matters: Decide what room you’re going to put it in BEFORE you go shopping. A fat tree in a little room is like Donald Trump’s ego in an election – there isn’t room for anything else.
Trees are not naturally symmetrical. Even the trees trimmed to look like perfect cones will never be perfect. The fun part is finding the most perfect one you can. This can be difficult at the places where the trees are wrapped and leaning against the wall, like, say, your local grocery store. To get the full experience of arguing for 30 minutes in the cold over which tree to get, you must suck up the cost and go to a place where the trees are set up on stands, as if they are ready to decorate, or better yet, in the field where you must cut them down.
Trees Get Bad Haircuts Too – Sadly, the two-week rule doesn’t apply. Most live trees come with a bad side – that side where the branches don’t fall right and there’s a hole.
This is the side you turn toward the wall when you put it up, or if it isn’t going against the wall, you find your fattest, heaviest ornaments to make the branches dangle over the hole. (These ornaments, along with the most fragile ones, will be the ones the cat goes after.)
What About Bugs? Some tree vendors will do the Tree Shake, which entails putting the tree on a spike attached to a generator that shakes the tree so hard that it looks like Beyonce twerking, until all the loose needles and bugs fall out – of the tree, not Beyonce. If your vendor doesn’t do that, you can console yourself with the fact that the fallen needles will make your vacuum cleaner smell good for months.
Net or No Net? I recommend getting one, even though it might ruin your Norman Rockwell vision of a Christmas tree strapped to the roof of your car. The net is crucial to getting the tree through the door and easily sitting in its stand. Trying to get a tree through the door without the net is like trying to thread a needle with a sausage.
SETTING UP YOUR TREE
Size matters – again. Tree trunks come in varying sizes and diameters, and they often come with branches sticking out of the bottom. Trim the branches at the bottom – you’ve heard the adage, “trim the bushes to make the deck look bigger“ – well, we don’t need the stand to look bigger, but we do need the tree to glide into the hole smoothly.
Getting the tree to stand up straight in the stand is usually a deal breaker – worse than hanging pictures on a wall. This task is for the patient and determined. If you’re like me and not allowed to go into the car dealership because you get too impatient to sit through the deal-making process, sighing and rolling your eyes for the entire three hours, this may not be the task for you. Some tips:
Wear gloves! Christmas trees look and smell great, but their trunks are covered in sap that is harder to remove from your hands than the image of Miley Cyrus twerking from your memory.
When you’ve given up and decided that tree that leans is now “charming,” make sure the tree doesn’t fall by tying some part of it to the wall. If you have cats or dogs, this is a must – they will find a way to bring that big green monster to the ground, and then skitter your breakable ornaments over the floor for the next two days.
FEEDING YOUR TREE
To determine if the tree needs water, you have to see how much water is left in the stand each morning and evening. Checking the water level for a live tree requires freakishly long arms and a relationship with your tree. As Lacy said, “I feel like I’m feeling up my tree.” Would that be second base? 
Watering the tree requires the ability to slither along the floor and pour a pitcher of water into the stand without spilling any. I recommend placing a piece of plastic under the stand, hidden by your tree skirt to prevent any stains on the carpet from water spills. 
I also recommend getting one of the tree watering tubes that blend in with the branches, the top of which sticks out for easy access.
Check your tree for tree food – some vendors provide it. The tree food is the little white thing on a random branch that you thought was the price tag.
If all of this seems like too much of a hassle, and you want to go back to taking your tree bits and pieces out of a box each year, and putting it together like a Tinker Toy that’s fine. I totally understand. Nothing says Christmas like a plastic tree with “Sensicles” hanging discreetly among the branches so that the whole house smells like fake Christmas.
Perhaps Lacy said it best when she was describing the experience of getting a live tree vs. setting up a plastic one: “It’s like trying to pick an animal out from the pound, but it’s such a pain in the ass I want to give it back.”
Well, I’ll take my temporary, evergreen mutt with its holes, dropping needles and intimate watering/groping sessions. Just as people today decorate their homes during the festive season with pine, spruce, and fir trees, ancient peoples hung evergreen boughs over their doors and windows. Your plastic tree may make your house look like it was decorated by Southern Living, but my tree reminds me that life goes on, even in winter.
Filed under: Middle Age, Posts | Tags: adulthood, anxiety, family, health, humor, insomnia, menopause, Middle-Age, mom, moving, new home, senses, sleeping, south, southern, subourbonmom, Super Powers
A year ago I never would have thought I would find myself standing in the bathroom at 2:00 in the morning, cooling my feet off on the cold tile. Gone are the days of worshipping those cold tiles after a night of drinking. This sin’t the only thing that’s changed. The first couple of times I woke up in a light sweat, I thought, “Right – this must be what menopause is like.”
Yeah….about that.
These days, I am enjoying the lovely combination of night sweats, which now include a literal puddle of sweat nestled between my collar bones, feet that feel like they’re on fire (hence the time I now spend standing on cold bathroom tiles.) and a racing heart that I am currently attributing to stress of moving to a new house and a marketing campaign at work, but which I have been informed can be a symptom of menopause as well.
But at least I’m not on FaceBook at 2:00am. That’s the kiss of death for me as far as menopause is concerned. When that hapens I may as well throw in the towel and start shopping at J.Jill and Hallmark for everything (if you don’t know what J.Jill is, you’re not there yet).
So I was standing in the bathroom topless (because my shirt was too wet to keep on), cooling off my feet and eating a granola bar, when it dawned on me: when you are trying to sell a house while still living in it, you gain some serious Moving Super Powers:
- Your heightened vision can spot the tiniest crumb on the new carpet in the house you are trying to sell;
- Super Ears hear the cats at any time day or night as they scratch and paw in the kitty litter box, sending showers of gray litter all over the floor that you will have to vacuum up later on;
- Your Super Nose can detect the last thing anyone cooked – especially when there’s the possibility of a showing the next day – even something as bland as a peanut butter sandwich has a lingering smell;
- You can vacuum, dust, and load and empty the dishwasher faster than flow of money hemorrhaging out of your bank account;
- And, you can simultaneously sleep (snore), review your massive list of things to do and have an anxiety attack at the same time.
Superman and Wonder Woman were definitely over-rated. I bet Superman and Wonder Woman never found themselves in the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning, unsuccessfully trying to silently open a granola bar wrapper while putting on a dry pajama top right-side-out. And I’m pretty sure they never had to coordinate the movers, stager, helpful friends and family, utility disconnection, and getting the garage door fixed.
I’ve got Moving Super Powers, baby – I’m invincible…except when my feet get hot.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, Build-A-Bear, decorating, family, home decor, home decorating, humor, Middle-Age, mom, moving, packing, real estate, realtors, south, southern, stagers, stress, subourbonmom
There comes a time when every suburbanite needs a change, so they turn their lives upside down, become instant HGTV experts and get the overwhelming urge to purge.
Since there’s no good time to have kids and there’s no good time to move, we decided to add the challenge of doing it in the fall of Daughter #1’s senior year. I mean, really, there isn’t much going on except SAT Tests, college visits every weekend, college applications and Senioritis.
Once the decision was made, we realized we had to get our stuff out of the house (all 15 years and two children of it), and try to make it look like no one ever lived there except June Cleaver and a decorator from Crate & Barrel.
It quickly became clear that we needed a Stager. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, a Stager is someone you pay to come to your house and tell you what you need to get rid of or change so your house will sell. What no one tells you is that having a Stager come into your house is a lesson in humiliation.
Oh, don’t get me wrong – our Stager is a seriously nice lady with good decorating sense who was trying really hard not to be too critical when she was talking about my decorating.
Apparently, there are decorating rules.
I decorate by seeing a picture in Southern Living or Coastal Living, buying one piece of furniture to start the look, then covering that piece of furniture with stuff until you can’t see it anymore. Then I start the process all over again. After walking around the house with my Stager, she said in an exasperated but kind voice, “Are these also the same curtains that were here when you moved in?” When I nodded, chewed her lip and asked hesitantly, “So, do you like shopping?”
I looked around and said, “Um, does it look like I like shopping?”
She just nodded to herself, like a therapist would after hearing some whackadoo story that confirmed their theory that the client is definitely…skewed.
After realizing my serious decorating deficiency, I decided I would channel all of my pent up anxiety at having my world (voluntarily) turned upside down onto the Stager.
And Build-A-Bear.
I now despise Build-A-Bear. Not only did they raise the stuffed animal bar so high you spend half a paycheck picking out fake roller skates and a tutu for a leopard, but they did something even worse – they created memories for the children.
Oh, it was great when my sweet baby girls’ faces lit up on a Build-A-Bear day. I loved watching them pick out the outfits and “adopt” their animal at the kid-friendly computers. Fast forward 10 years when we are trying to fit everything into a pod and there are two more trash bags filled with stuffed Build-A-Bear creatures that just won’t go in. Can I give them away? Of course not – each bear is a memory. They say you can’t put a price tag on memories – well I call bulls#*&t. The price tag is $25-$35 dollars, if you’re lucky and get the basic model without the fancy clothes.
So in went the Build-A-Bear bags (yes, I kept them, damn you, Build-A-Bear) and all of the syrupy memories, and out went two trailer loads of junk to the dump. In went boxes of schoolwork from kindergarten on, and out went my jean skirt from 1989. The closer we got to the show date, in went a lot of bourbon, and out went sentimentality.
Now that the Stager is no longer in our lives and the Build-A-Bears are packed away, I’ll have to find something new to channel all of this self-inflicted anxiety onto.
I’m thinking it will be the person who decided the NFL should play football on Thursdays. I’ve already missed my picks for Week 1 – maybe I’ll go get a football bear.
Subourbon Mom 