Friday, December 9, 2011

Of Ads and Eggs

I found this while I was going through the ads last night:

I think  the guy on the right is meant to be a stomach, evidently one in a great deal of distress.  I'm not sure why it is wearing shoes.  Or has hair.  Is  there anything about this ad that makes you want to buy the product?  Maybe I'm an old fart (there's no doubt about that, really--my daughter tells me all the time) and everyone else thinks that graphically illustrated gastrointestinal output humor is all the rage, but I can only believe that some bored advertising guy dreamed this up as a joke and then didn't know how to take it back when the client--maybe a disgruntled representative of the client bent on revenge-- said "That's the one for us!  Print a bazillion copies and distribute it everyone in America.  Hey, you know what?  Let's put it in the Sunday paper and see how many people find it while they're eating brunch!!"

I like this one a whole lot better:

I'm thinking that these would be fun to make, if a bit gruesome to eat with their cute little mustard faces and tiny pastry turbans.  Unfortunately, any reference to pigs in blankets brings back grievous memories from my wedding, where all of the mini hots in pastry were sucked down by a marauding troupe of high school hockey players* before we could get our newly married mitts on them.  I don't think I've eaten one since.

All the coupon hunting was performed in preparation for this week's trip to the grocery store. The trip was momentous only because it was the first time I've had to buy eggs in two years, and I'm so used to bypassing the eggs--all the while exuding superiority because I have my own chickens who give me eggs--that I bypassed them today too, even though they were were written on my list in HUGE LETTERS.

I don't have the heart to use them, though.  To me they are the Eggs of Shame and Failure.  I'm going to have to take them outside and accost my lazy, good-for-nothing chickens with them, while muttering things like "why can't you be more like these chickens?"  and "I give you food and shelter and tempting bits of leftover salad and broccoli, and what do you give me? Nothing!"  

Maybe the girls are not lay-abouts, but are suffering from low morale.  Maybe I should hang posters of eggs with smiley faces painted on them and pipe uplifting music in to the coop.  And then I could sneak in overnight and put a few extra eggs in the nesting boxes and pretend to be surprised by them in the morning and praise the chickens for their productivity.

Or maybe it's just time to start thinking about ordering some new chicks for the spring.

I know the cats would like that:


p.s. This is just in case anyone needed a good giggle today:


*Admittedly, we invited them, since they were El Husbando's team, but were were totally unprepared for their speed and agility in matters relating to hors d'oeuvres. 

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