Sunday, March 29, 2009
Beary funny
There are very few videos I'll watch more than once, so I'd like to thank this bizarre ambiguously Slavic man for entertaining me for a whole 6 minutes, and also for making me realize that the melody to Rihanna's "Umbrella" bears (pun intended) striking resemblance to Woody Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land".
In the scintillating world of digital advertising, we often wonder what makes a video go viral and how we can create funny online video sensations for our clients. Without ostensibly trying too hard, this man has seemingly unlocked the formula for success: accordian + bear suit + cat + recent hit song of recently hit pop star (sorry, Rihanna--I love you!). Though the video is 1.5 years old, it's still timely because of the pop star's prominence in headlines and music charts, and combined with the timelessness of grown men dressed in furry animal costumes, you have a music video that is sure to please and bewilder.
With that in mind, I'm off to make my own viral YouTube hit. Don't want to ruin the surprise, but let's just say it may or may not involve a giraffe suit, Katy Perry and a fake Russian accent.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Bad Mom Award
What is up with people in this country being so uptight and completely over-reacting to everything? (I mean in comparison to other Western nations, not to countries where women have no rights). Specifically I refer to the backlash and outrage from moms over the new "grown up" Dora the Explorer for tweens. Some parents are claiming the new character looks too sexed up, with her short dress and shiny come-hither pink lips. I feel really sorry for these people's kids, who are probably gonna turn to drugs and casual sex as payback for their parents not letting them play with sexy Dora. Seriously though, if your daughter is gonna do naughty things before she's old enough, giving her a nun doll to play with isn't going to derail those desires and shenanigans. My parents let me watch all sorts of R-rated movies when I was 9 to 16, and I led a perfectly innocent and over-achieving childhood and even teenhood. I wish some parents today would take a chill pill. Especially when their concerns are completely moronic and unfounded, as in the case of poor older Dora, who I'm sure hasn't even kissed a Jonas brother doll yet.
Monday, March 23, 2009
A visual treat for you slow readers
Some of you have been asking for pictures to break up the monotony of my lengthy posts, so hopefully your prayers have been answered with this Jesus-riding-a-dinosaur monstrosity.
I love pictures that are worth a thousand words and yet kind of leave you speechless at the same time. Anyway, am I the only one who didn't have a "flesh of Christ" colored crayon in my crayola box? (might be a Jew thing)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Sweet-talking sandwiches
There's a deli near my office where I go when I'm having a bad day and need to hear a little sweet-talking. For months I kept hearing about some "Honey Sweetie Deli" with its allegedly delicious tri-tip sandwich. I thought that was a stupid name for a deli until I went there myself and finally realized that was merely a nickname bestowed by its lunch-goers, along with variations like "honey baby deli."
No one actually knows or cares what the real name is. What we do know is that when we're in the sandwich line, there's a 94% chance that someone behind the counter will call us "honey" and/or "sweetie" repeatedly throughout the brief ordering encounter. Example: "What can I get for you, honey? Great choice, sweetie--do you want that toasted? By the way, I love your shirt."
Needless to say, you walk out of there glowing and feeling like a million bucks. Now, I've gone back for the turkey cranberry sandwich enough times to know that they're not very selective with the sweet-talking. As long as you have a pulse, you'll probably be buttered up. But even though you know they're cheating on you with everyone else in line, when it's your turn, it still feels glorious. I'm tempted to approach the deli owner with a social psychology study to see what incremental impact the name calling has on purchase behavior.
Anyway, this all makes me wonder why we don't employ more random acts of sweet-talking in our daily lives, particularly when dealing with ornery clients. "Sure thing, sweetie--I'll have those TPS reports to you asap. Thanks for your email, honey muffin." Too often at work we're the victims of rudeness and impatience, and I'm sure sometimes we are the instigators (by "we" I mean everyone except me). We already know pet names work splendidly in relationships, so why not spread the love to platonic friends and strangers?
I challenge myself and you all to try it and report back on the intrinsic and extrinsic rewards (or consequences). If you're feeling particularly confident/adventurous and want to deviate from the more generic honey/sweetie/baby options, here are a few of my favorites:
baby cakes
apple of my eye
carebear
cheeky monkey
huggalump
shnookums
Good luck and thanks for reading, buttercups!
No one actually knows or cares what the real name is. What we do know is that when we're in the sandwich line, there's a 94% chance that someone behind the counter will call us "honey" and/or "sweetie" repeatedly throughout the brief ordering encounter. Example: "What can I get for you, honey? Great choice, sweetie--do you want that toasted? By the way, I love your shirt."
Needless to say, you walk out of there glowing and feeling like a million bucks. Now, I've gone back for the turkey cranberry sandwich enough times to know that they're not very selective with the sweet-talking. As long as you have a pulse, you'll probably be buttered up. But even though you know they're cheating on you with everyone else in line, when it's your turn, it still feels glorious. I'm tempted to approach the deli owner with a social psychology study to see what incremental impact the name calling has on purchase behavior.
Anyway, this all makes me wonder why we don't employ more random acts of sweet-talking in our daily lives, particularly when dealing with ornery clients. "Sure thing, sweetie--I'll have those TPS reports to you asap. Thanks for your email, honey muffin." Too often at work we're the victims of rudeness and impatience, and I'm sure sometimes we are the instigators (by "we" I mean everyone except me). We already know pet names work splendidly in relationships, so why not spread the love to platonic friends and strangers?
I challenge myself and you all to try it and report back on the intrinsic and extrinsic rewards (or consequences). If you're feeling particularly confident/adventurous and want to deviate from the more generic honey/sweetie/baby options, here are a few of my favorites:
baby cakes
apple of my eye
carebear
cheeky monkey
huggalump
shnookums
Good luck and thanks for reading, buttercups!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Security questions--remembering what you remembered
I can't think of a greater user experience failure than those online security questions that are so baffling and stupid that they lock out their owners rather than the bad guys. Last night I tried to log in to my ING savings account after a few months of inactivity. "Enter your customer number." So far so good (thank god Gmail has impeccable search functionality). "Our records show that this computer is unregistered. Please answer the following security questions to proceed." First up--"What high school did you graduate from?" Now, I know full well that I graduated from Plano East Senior High. What I no longer know/remember is how I typed in this school name when setting up my security questions two years ago. "Plano East Sr High" doesn't get me anywhere, and "plano east senior high" exceeds the character limit so that can't be it.
Next up, "What city were you born in?" That's easy, I say. Gomel, Belarus (You can't see it from Alaska, in case you're wondering). I type in "gomel", praying that the security question validator is not case-sensitive and that I didn't put in the country and the city together during setup. Turns out I will never know the correct answer to these questions, because I get "either one or both" of them wrong and am taken to a judgmental screen where I have to validate 97 things about my identity. Good times. Luckily I succeed because the answers are all numerical-based and there's no cause for ambiguity.
But the fun doesn't stop there. "We noticed you had some trouble with your security questions. Please update below." Now I'm forced to select 5 NEW security questions from a drop-box list of 10. Half of these don't even apply to me, such as "Where did you go on your honeymoon?" (I'm not married) and "What is your mother's middle name?" (we Russians don't have middle names). So now I'm left with a big list of crap and ambiguity--"What was the color of your first car?" sounds easy enough, until I remember there was much dispute on this topic among my friends and relatives, some claiming my '92 Mitsubishi Galant was blue, some insisting it was gray, and some saying silver. (In reality it was a cool metallic hue that definitely contained all three of these). Now, I don't need to know what color my car actually was--I need to know what color I will most likely remember entering in to a security question months or years from now. Chances of this having a happy ending? Not high. Next up--"What city was your first job in?" Again, who the hell knows? Not me. First my mind jumps to my first official job out of college, at Yahoo in Sunnyvale, but then I remember that I had a paid internship right before that at a software company, and then memories of all my summer jobs during high school in Texas come rushing back...
Ok, so I may not be the most mentally stable person, and my tendency to over-analyze things to death isn't helping, but come on, are we really expected to remember not only the facts but also our interpretation of those facts several years ago when we set up these damn questions? In the words of my wise friend Lizzie, choosing a password and answering security questions are like writing a note full of inside jokes to your future self, and hoping that you'll get them.
When I voiced my frustrations to my boyfriend, he insisted this was a "female problem" and that boys' minds are much simpler and more steadfast. I think anyone remotely analytical and with a triple digit IQ score would have a problem with "what is your favorite movie?" as the access gatekeeper to his/her entire credit history. Let's see.. 15 years ago it was The Little Mermaid, 10 years ago it was a tie between Clueless and Encino Man (j/k..maybe), 5 years ago it was probably Shawshank Redemption, and now it changes daily. Unfortunately, my punishment for periodically changing my mind is that my credit card account is about as easy to access as the Pentagon.
So in summary, if the geniuses who make up security questions could start thinking like human beings and stop including words like "favorite", I would sleep much better at night (and stop having to keep my important passwords and security question answers under my pillow).
Next up, "What city were you born in?" That's easy, I say. Gomel, Belarus (You can't see it from Alaska, in case you're wondering). I type in "gomel", praying that the security question validator is not case-sensitive and that I didn't put in the country and the city together during setup. Turns out I will never know the correct answer to these questions, because I get "either one or both" of them wrong and am taken to a judgmental screen where I have to validate 97 things about my identity. Good times. Luckily I succeed because the answers are all numerical-based and there's no cause for ambiguity.
But the fun doesn't stop there. "We noticed you had some trouble with your security questions. Please update below." Now I'm forced to select 5 NEW security questions from a drop-box list of 10. Half of these don't even apply to me, such as "Where did you go on your honeymoon?" (I'm not married) and "What is your mother's middle name?" (we Russians don't have middle names). So now I'm left with a big list of crap and ambiguity--"What was the color of your first car?" sounds easy enough, until I remember there was much dispute on this topic among my friends and relatives, some claiming my '92 Mitsubishi Galant was blue, some insisting it was gray, and some saying silver. (In reality it was a cool metallic hue that definitely contained all three of these). Now, I don't need to know what color my car actually was--I need to know what color I will most likely remember entering in to a security question months or years from now. Chances of this having a happy ending? Not high. Next up--"What city was your first job in?" Again, who the hell knows? Not me. First my mind jumps to my first official job out of college, at Yahoo in Sunnyvale, but then I remember that I had a paid internship right before that at a software company, and then memories of all my summer jobs during high school in Texas come rushing back...
Ok, so I may not be the most mentally stable person, and my tendency to over-analyze things to death isn't helping, but come on, are we really expected to remember not only the facts but also our interpretation of those facts several years ago when we set up these damn questions? In the words of my wise friend Lizzie, choosing a password and answering security questions are like writing a note full of inside jokes to your future self, and hoping that you'll get them.
When I voiced my frustrations to my boyfriend, he insisted this was a "female problem" and that boys' minds are much simpler and more steadfast. I think anyone remotely analytical and with a triple digit IQ score would have a problem with "what is your favorite movie?" as the access gatekeeper to his/her entire credit history. Let's see.. 15 years ago it was The Little Mermaid, 10 years ago it was a tie between Clueless and Encino Man (j/k..maybe), 5 years ago it was probably Shawshank Redemption, and now it changes daily. Unfortunately, my punishment for periodically changing my mind is that my credit card account is about as easy to access as the Pentagon.
So in summary, if the geniuses who make up security questions could start thinking like human beings and stop including words like "favorite", I would sleep much better at night (and stop having to keep my important passwords and security question answers under my pillow).
Miracle drugs or just good advertising?
I feel obligated to preface this post with the confession that I am pretty skeptical of the effectiveness of modern medicine, as anyone who's had the pleasure of being around me while I'm sick can attest to. This skepticism has formed in part from upbringing (I think i swallowed my first pill at age 20) and in part from first and secondhand experience with incompetent doctors and ineffective drugs. I usually find that if you ignore an ailment long enough, or eat a few extra apples, the problem will eventually disappear.
Anyway, one thing that really baffles me about modern medicine is our tolerance for its side effects. I'm sure some of those prescription drugs really do help people treat otherwise debilitating conditions, but don't the side effects caused by many of them seem just as bad (if not worse) as the symptoms they are intended to cure? Like sure, taking "pramipexole" will alleviate my restless leg syndrome, but is it worth the risk of developing an overwhelming compulsion to gamble? (I couldn't make this stuff up).
Exhibit B: My grandma takes medication for her dizziness and vertigo, and one of the listed side effects is.... (drumroll please)... DIZZINESS. Am i missing something here? Exhibit C: A few weeks ago I succumbed to pressure from friends to take something for my persistent allergy-like symptoms and took an over-the-counter Zyrtec (originally available by prescription only). It did appear to somewhat clear up my sinuses, but I was too busy being distracted by my incredibly dry mouth, lightheadedness and inexplicable anxiety to notice the miracle cure. Sure enough, these were listed as possible (rare) side effects of the drug. In my defense, there's a good chance that my proximity to the Chernobyl nuclear accident as a child may have something to do with my body's hypersensitive reaction to drugs. Radiation aside, I'm mainly just wondering--are drug company ad campaigns devised by marketing geniuses, or are we just dumb?
As an advertising professional, one thing that fascinates me about prescription drugs is the way they have chosen to aggressively target consumers directly even though they are at 2 degrees of separation, rather than stick with wooing and educating the medical community that can directly impact the purchase decision. Since consumers can't get their hands on these drugs without a doctor's nod, this customer acquisition strategy is very similar to the way toy companies target young kids in the hope that they will whine and annoy their parents until they get what they want. "Ask your doctor if Zaddayaddastorxil is right for you." Genius call-to-action, but in the words of Bill Maher (one of my idols), shouldn't your doctor be telling YOU what's right for you, not the other way around? If you're telling your doctor what drugs you want, at that point, isn't he just a drug dealer? Good times.
Another thing that irks me is the hypocrisy/free ride given to these drug companies in advertising. Why is it perfectly socially acceptable to air a Cialis or Viagra commercial during primetime--two drugs that treat penile dysfunction and basically advertise sex in a jar--but when a wardrobe malfunction at the Superbowl exposes part of a woman's breast for a nanosecond, the FCC and half the country goes apeshit over it. Doesn't a wardrobe malfunction also potentially assist with penile arousal? I guess if the drug companies can't profit from it, it's not allowed. Anyway, that's all I have to say about that.
Anyway, one thing that really baffles me about modern medicine is our tolerance for its side effects. I'm sure some of those prescription drugs really do help people treat otherwise debilitating conditions, but don't the side effects caused by many of them seem just as bad (if not worse) as the symptoms they are intended to cure? Like sure, taking "pramipexole" will alleviate my restless leg syndrome, but is it worth the risk of developing an overwhelming compulsion to gamble? (I couldn't make this stuff up).
Exhibit B: My grandma takes medication for her dizziness and vertigo, and one of the listed side effects is.... (drumroll please)... DIZZINESS. Am i missing something here? Exhibit C: A few weeks ago I succumbed to pressure from friends to take something for my persistent allergy-like symptoms and took an over-the-counter Zyrtec (originally available by prescription only). It did appear to somewhat clear up my sinuses, but I was too busy being distracted by my incredibly dry mouth, lightheadedness and inexplicable anxiety to notice the miracle cure. Sure enough, these were listed as possible (rare) side effects of the drug. In my defense, there's a good chance that my proximity to the Chernobyl nuclear accident as a child may have something to do with my body's hypersensitive reaction to drugs. Radiation aside, I'm mainly just wondering--are drug company ad campaigns devised by marketing geniuses, or are we just dumb?
As an advertising professional, one thing that fascinates me about prescription drugs is the way they have chosen to aggressively target consumers directly even though they are at 2 degrees of separation, rather than stick with wooing and educating the medical community that can directly impact the purchase decision. Since consumers can't get their hands on these drugs without a doctor's nod, this customer acquisition strategy is very similar to the way toy companies target young kids in the hope that they will whine and annoy their parents until they get what they want. "Ask your doctor if Zaddayaddastorxil is right for you." Genius call-to-action, but in the words of Bill Maher (one of my idols), shouldn't your doctor be telling YOU what's right for you, not the other way around? If you're telling your doctor what drugs you want, at that point, isn't he just a drug dealer? Good times.
Another thing that irks me is the hypocrisy/free ride given to these drug companies in advertising. Why is it perfectly socially acceptable to air a Cialis or Viagra commercial during primetime--two drugs that treat penile dysfunction and basically advertise sex in a jar--but when a wardrobe malfunction at the Superbowl exposes part of a woman's breast for a nanosecond, the FCC and half the country goes apeshit over it. Doesn't a wardrobe malfunction also potentially assist with penile arousal? I guess if the drug companies can't profit from it, it's not allowed. Anyway, that's all I have to say about that.
The blirgin post
Greetings, comrades. I'm tempted to say that I only started this blog so I could use the word "blirgin" (blog virgin), but that would only be half the truth. The other half is that I love to write and have an opinion on just about everything, so hopefully you'll join me on this wordy adventure as I explore our challenging, ever-changing world and judge lots of people in it. So without further ado, let's hop to my first ever, blirginal blog posting.
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