It Drives Me Crazy...

So, here I am once more feeling like a maniacal ranter over The Who's song Eminence Front [the first time was when the company I formerly worked for used it as background music to their "Rah, Rah Get on board" with our Corporate Kool-Aid 'culture' reform].  I realize that I am smarter than the average bear, but that one just blew my mind, until...

A car company recently decided to use this song to promote their overpriced cars that masquerade as luxury SUVs.  The song is clearly discernible for those who appreciate classic rock.  To verify that I wasn't insane as I started my rant to my husband [who at this point stares at me, while I believe, praying that when I explode it doesn't get on him], I picked up my phone and used my handy little song app that only needs a small portion of a song to go fetch it, so you may purchase it or read the lyrics; or in this case - validate my ire.

Immediately, I am incredibly incensed [I cannot begin to explain why this pisses me off, rather than amuses me...but it does.  Anger me, that is].  How on earth could a marketing team use a song and not pay any attention to WHAT the song is about and stands for?!?  At the very least, I would hope these educated folks would have looked up the lyrics [assuming they are Millennials who didn't grow up with a parent or two listening to this on the radio].  Or, even better...Wikipedia the song.  Not difficult.  Unless you're illiterate and unable to browse the interwebs?  Hmph.

In any case, one would find that the lyrics BLATANTLY discuss putting up a front or facade to make things appear not as they are, but as they 'should' be.  Ok, idiot marketing ppl...completely disregard that, but at least pay some heed to the fact that the man who wrote the song even admits it's about snorting too much blow.  Good God!  For that reason alone, you should possibly avoid using this song, no matter how catchy it's hook is, to sell any product outside of say...Uh, Cocaine.  And last I checked, most drug dealers aren't putting ads on prime time television...yet.

15 minutes into my diatribe, my husband calmly informs me that they really probably never listened to the actual lyrics of this song.  Ever.  Hiroshima...In my living room.  How could you not, if you decide to use the hook for, what I assume is, a multi-million dollar advertising campaign.  That would be like the EEOC using the song Brown Sugar to promote Equal Opportunity Employment for minority women, purely because they enjoyed those sick beats.  Well, maybe not that bad...  But, you're getting my drift?

In my mind, the ad agency picked a song with a recognizable and awesome tune to play, not too quietly, in the background of an automobile commerical.  A song about taking too much drugs, the need to keep up with the Jones' and putting on airs to make sure everyone thinks you are something much more than you are...and base a campaign for a gas guzzling, expensive, not quite luxury but wishes it was, SUV on it?  Bravo.  Well done.

Wanna Go For A Ride?!?

There is nothing more terrifying than packing a family of five for a vacation.  You doubt yourself right until the moment you arrive and realize you should have triple checked every single bag.  You have nightmares about leaving someone behind on the days before departure (thanks Home Alone for all that nonsense).

Each child o' mine has their own suitcase special for this year's vacation.  They were Christmas presents.  I decided to start youngest to oldest in packing order this time.  Why you ask?  Because, my little blonde angel has more clothes than the next three of us combined...and that's without having busted into the stacks of her older sister's hand-me-downs.  Lucky her.

She was interested, not in helping mind you; but in watching my efforts.  I counted out undergarments and put them on her dresser.  I opened the closet and two drawers.  I pushed up my sleeves and thought, "Since I'm dressing her, she's going to match!"  Hooray.  She plopped down on her bed.

I pull out stretchy pants...as many as I could find.  This because, as all moms know: stretchy pants take up the least amount of space in a suitcase.  Oh, and they're most versatile.  Wear 'em with a dress.  With a cute shirt.  A tank and a long sweatshirt.  Yes.  Stretchy pants.

I lay out seven pair that were at the bottom of her drawer.  I put undies on top of each pair of pants.  She looks up at me in wonder.  "Mommy, whose stretchy pants ARE those?"

I stop.  And stare.  I'm completely dumbfounded.  I hold up the pair I'm currently accessorizing.

"THESE stretchy pants?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, stretchy pants, while having ample amounts of give do not have enough, I fear, to stretch to cover the area of my backside...so, I'm going to go with: they're yours."

"Well...I've never even seen them before."

"Yes, I know.  You have more clothes than the sum total of Kardashians, and I've pulled these all from the deepest recess of your wardrobe.  Not only are you going on vacation, it's going to be like Christmas as I've unearthed seven brand new, (Ok, not new-new...they are hand-me-downs from friends), never worn by you before...outfits.  My miracle work here is officially done!"

With that, I finished up matching outfits and accessorizing and closed her case.  I zipped it shut to find she had scooted off the bed and ventured into the living room to interrupt her sister practicing piano.

"Hey, Mommy said she bought me a whole new set of clothes special for this trip.  Wait until you see my fashion and all these new presents...but you didn't get any!" She giggled.

OH BOY...that is NOT what I said.

"MOOOOOOOM...."

And with that I made a mental note to pack duct tape and ear plugs into my purse for the insanely long impending car ride.