I want to know what she's washing down with that OJ

Ooooh, check out this woman's day, it's going to be sooooooo haaaaaard!! I guess it's a good thing she's holding an early morning meeting with all the people who are going to be tormenting her over the course of the day (does this make sense to anybody? Anybody at all?)

"I'll roll my eyes at you when you try to tell me what to wear" says Mysteriously Not-Texting Daughter. Seriously, I can't remember the last time I saw a commercial featuring a teen-aged girl in which that girl was not holding a cell phone. Wake Up, Florida Orange Juice! It's 2011!! Mom won't be crumbling under the weight of daughter's normally crushing eye-roll, however. She's got her OJ.

"Though I said I'd be here between 8 and 9, I'll show up at ten" says Cable Guy. "Making me late for work?" asks Apparently Single Mom Who Must Handle Everything Herself. "Yep" answers Cable Guy. Not to worry- this situation, which would break the will of most of us who don't drink juice in the morning, is easily handled by SuperMom. She's got her OJ.

"Principal Miller" is now asked for her intake, and she informs Mom that her son will be involved in a turf war involving switch blades, sidearms, and a monopoly on the playground's heroin traffic. Ok, she doesn't say any of that- just some dull crap about a scuffle- but you'll excuse my embroidery. Anything to stay awake as this dreck wears down. No problem for Mom. She's got her OJ.

There's some crap about elevators being out, which means that this woman will have to walk down 18 flights of stairs "in high heels." Why she's required to wear high heels in the first place- Jesus Christ, is this 2011 or 1955- is not a question to be answered in this brief ad. Or ever. Because it doesnt' matter. Nothing matters. Because it's all good, because she's got her OJ.

What I want to know is, when was orange juice fortified with the kinds of---err, "vitamins"---which make life's little annoyances somehow easier to take? I mean, isn't this really a commercial for Vodka, or Pot? "I've got my Orange juice"--- sure you do, but that's not making you calm in the face of Life's Little Disasters now, is it?

Come on, lady, fess up. What are you popping just before guzzling down that Orange Juice that is making you so damned relaxed? And is it available in my area? Because I have more compelling problems than a kid's eye roll and a late Cable Guy.

I've looked at Clouds from both sides now, Take II

In some respects, this commercial would have made a lot more sense back in the late-1990s. I mean, wasn't it back then that every smarmy, semi-educated twentysomething thought that he was just a few clicks away from taking his "Start Up" to the front page of the Wall Street Journal, and himself out of his mom's basement into a plush Manhattan penthouse apartment?

Of course, back then, the "CEOs" of these mostly Fly-By-Night .com entities couldn't keep in constant contact with the rest of the dreamers on the "payroll," such as it was, because cell phones were still very limited in their utility, and the internet was something you accessed through phone lines. All this made it a lot harder to pretend to be doing the job you were hired to do and basically steal time from your boss while organizing your dream enterprise. Nowadays, everyone over the age of six has a high-end I Phone or Blackberry, and now, thanks to "The Cloud," we are all in touch and ready to crunch numbers and organize graphs and all those other really important things that people who want to get rich do to...well, get rich. I guess.

So the self-important Cloud Person in this ad spends a great deal of time coordinating, planning, and sharing, and when it's all done, he can whip off the apron and dump the job at Starbucks that was only keeping him in pizza and expensive gadgets. As far as I can see, the "CEO" doesn't even inform the poor manager of the coffee joint that "hey, thanks for giving me a job at a place which is also a Hot Spot, and not paying enough attention to notice that while I was supposed to be emptying the garbage cans between whipping up lattes and keeping the skim milk dispensers, I was actually using you to do my own work. See ya later, sucker."

As if this isn't all appallingly obnoxious enough, he lets his ex-coworker know that no, there is no room on his Cloud Team for him. That poor dope is just out of luck, because he was too focused on doing his job, and not enough on cheating his employer.

So it's come to this. 20th century morality blended seamlessly with 21st century technology. All we can hope is that this "CEO's" Start-Up ends like pretty much all the Start Ups of the 1990s did- in the dustbin, surrounded by a big pile of worthless stock. And that this guy ends up back in his mom's basement, wishing he could work up the courage to walk back into that coffee shop and ask for his old job back.

Oh, Suburban Princess Narrator, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways....

Back before I started to embed these ads, I did a post on this commercial which got me a very funny "sorry you didn't like our ad!" response from a very alert member of the Angie's List team. Because this particular commercial continues to pollute the airwaves, I thought I'd give it another try. It's a challenge to determine what I hate the most about the awful narrator: Is it that

1. She has so many plumbing issues in her suburban castle that she has a "favorite plumber?"

2. She has a Papillon?

3. The Papillon's name is Molly?

Or is it that

4. She sees no problem in asking her plumber to walk her dog (because plumbers aren't professionals, or anything. I'm a schoolteacher- I'm sure if my principal called and told me that the cleaning crew was sick and would I mind very much mopping and waxing the classroom floor, I'd be fine with that.)

5. She tells us that Joe will always be her plumber because he's willing to sacrifice his "time and dignity" parading her fucking little rat/dog up and down the street "until her 'business' was done." (And, presumably, cleaned up after it, too.) Not because he's a good plumber.

6. She presumes that her plumber has gone off the clock before doing this extra little job for her (seriously, tell me this isn't so. Please tell me that Joe continued to charge this woman $100 per hour to walk her dog around. Because God Damn It, it's NOT HIS JOB.)

Actually, I don't think it's any of these things. I think the real reason is embedded deep within the context of the ad- which is that what this woman likes most about this plumber is that he's a freaking little worker-drone monkey she can order around with impunity, because after all, if he steps out of line and refuses to ask "how high?" when she says "jump!," there's this little website called Angie's List, and we wouldn't want a bad review now, would we? Want to keep food on your kid's table, don't we? Scoop that poop, monkey!!

Seriously- shouldn't the comments on Angie's list be restricted to how well people actually do their contracted JOBS? Instead, we get bitching about painters stepping in red paint ("they did the job on time and budget, but they are far from true professionals," this guy sneers. So, on time and on budget is not as important as their attitude, you elitist scumbag prick?) or "the domestic slave I hired because 'I was TIRED of cleaning my house' kept whistling this annoying tune..." Good Fucking Lord. You assholes don't want laborers. You want robots who will do things Just So or else suffer the wrath of Angie's List.

Sorry for the rant. Back to the commercial at hand- I wish someone would make a parody of this ad in which Joe either A) hands this woman a bill including the time spent walking her dog, and the citation he received for refusing to pick up the poop because god damn it.....or B) refuses to walk the dog, leaving it to mess all over this woman's lovely furniture. And Angie's List be damned.

That and that ugly little "dog."

The Late Night TV Mark of Quality

Wow, I am SO glad I saw this commercial before consulting that fat, bearded weirdo from TaxMasters who always looks like he's got a steel pole jammed up his ass. I mean, what could be more confidence-inducing than a cartoon character named Max presenting his case for taking on the IRS to a crowd of zombies who look like they thought they were attending a session of Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University?

I mean, look at the "possible, not typical" savings! And all you have to do is what you ALWAYS have to with with ANY of these Tax Debt/Credit Card Debt scumbag vulture organizations: Send them money. Lots of money. Basically, all the money you have. Keep doing that for a few months (say, six. Or eighteen.) Call every once in a while for an "update" ("your case is pending.") If you are amazingly fortunate, BlueTax actually manages to get you the discounted settlement you could easily have negotiated on your own, and without paying a hefty "consulting fee" to BlueTax. If your case is much more typical, you'll be told "sorry, nothing we could do for you. And if you'll read the contract you signed with us, you'll see there are no refunds." Or the number you've been calling will be mysteriously disconnected, as the guys who got your money have moved on, changing their name and cartoon spokes-figure.

My bet is that I'm one of the lucky ones, though. I mean, after all, this guy is so cute. And that weird little scream he gives at the end of the ad- if that doesn't convince you, what will? I mean, these guys are CLEARLY professionals who respect your intelligence, right?

What Color is your Crutch?

This woman used to have a problem- a "crutch," in fact. That problem was cigarettes. She was addicted to cigarettes and nothing- not the coughing, not the yellow teeth, not the shortness of breath, not even the health of her husband, dogs, and children (in that order) could convince her to break that addiction.

Then, along came this amazing new drug, Chantix. This drug was so effective that after taking it, when this woman noticed a pack of cigarettes at the bottom of handbag, she started to scold it- "I don't need you anymore. You aren't my crutch. I don't need a crutch."

"I don't need a crutch." Hmm...well...I'm not so sure about that, lady. I mean, you're there on tv singing the praises of a drug which "may" cause

Changes in Behavior
Hostility
Agitation
Depressed Mood
"Suicidal thoughts and actions" (I wonder how many "Suicidal Actions" per person can be linked to Chantix?) that are "not typical of you" (your normal, typical suicidal thoughts and actions? Don't blame them on Chantix!)
Allergic Skin Reactions
Swelling of Mouth and Throat
Nausea
Nightmares, trouble sleeping (but not, apparently, both at the same time.)

And you are so happy that you've given up cigarettes, which may or may not have a list of common side effects as long and as scary as Chantix does. How happy are you? Well, except for your Husband, your Dogs, and your Children, it's "the best thing you've ever done" (you know, I don't even want to try to snark on that.)

Yes, you've thrown away that Crutch. You are no longer a coughing, smelly woman who is cutting her life short every time she lights up. Instead, you are now a hostile, nervous, depressed, suicidal insomniac with acne and nausea who looks like you have a permanent case of the mumps. Congratulations, it sure sounds like a step up. For you, your husband, your dogs, and your kids. In that order.

Did you ever even TRY that gum?

Their souls were stolen in a previous burglary

Get a load of this seriously looks-and-emotions-deficient family as it returns home from their weekend in Branson to discover that their stunningly ugly condo has been stripped almost clean by burglars.

"Oh man, we've been robbed" mutters Dad in exactly the same tone as I'd expect if he were instead saying "Oh man, I left the living room light on" or "Darn it, the last person forgot to flush before we left." Not "let's go to our neighbors and stay there until the police can come and make sure no one is still here," no shock or anger or fear at all- just a "let's take this in stride, man what a pain" response which suggests to me that this entire family is on valium- or was in on dad's not-very-clever insurance fraud scam.

Little son's non-reaction is especially disturbing- he doesn't seem interested in learning if his precious comic book collection or favorite teddy bear is safe and sound, or if the place he calls home is still a safe place to sleep. Is he going to wake up crying for the next several weeks? Is he going to start wetting his bed? Nah, no big deal, nothing really to see here. Just a case of strange men breaking into your home and walking around taking stuff. Whatever.

Mom is weirdest of all- she seems genuinely disturbed that the burglars didn't think their computer was worth taking- mortified, almost. They didn't steal our 2002 Dell Desktop? "Maybe it's time for a new computer." Yes, indeed- a light little laptop that can be unplugged from the wall and slipped into a carry bag by the next set of burglars in no time flat. Hey, maybe the creeps didn't want your stupid wedding and baby photos, idiot.

Mom goes right back to the "I'm so ashamed at my burglar-unworthy computer" when she and dad pick up the new laptop. (I do like the way she obsesses about the file transfers- "the baby pictures? The wedding photos?" YES, LADY, all your junk was moved to the new laptop. What part of "all" did you not understand?) Dad joins in- "now this is worth stealing." Jesus- seriously, people. We could chalk up your initial reaction to shock. What's your excuse this time? It wasn't funny the first time, it's not any more funny days later.

Because being robbed is generally NOT fun, and replacing the lost stuff is generally NOT the biggest task for people who have intact souls. It's getting back that sense of security, being able to fall asleep again without being spooked by every little noise, being able to walk into your house without a powerful sense of dread, etc. Whoever wrote this ad has never been robbed, and has precious little understanding of what this traumatic experience can be like. (My guess is, he doesnt have kids, either. I seriously can't imagine a kid acting like the one in this ad- Damien Thorne showed more emotion when his nanny hung herself.)

By the way, did the burglars steal all the shampoo? Or did the fact that they left it behind convince this woman that it was no longer worth using?

Well, at least there's no chance that this client will ever come to dinner again

For today's entry, we take you back to America, circa 1956, when a favorite sitcom theme was the "husband bringing the very important client home for dinner without letting The Little Woman know in advance." The theme mixes very well with the more modern "Dad Screwed Up AGAIN!" theme which is openly presented to us in the ad's opening seconds (by the little choad who had apparently been told to entertain the client in the living room while Mom and Dad argue four feet away.)

Once the Painful Situation is defused by a pan of junk a college freshman MIGHT eat after a night of smoking pot when he realizes that he's out of Ramen noodles and stale Doritos, things settle down and get much worse. We move on to an intensely uncomfortable, silent meal with dad, client, Angry Mom, and nasty little narrator-kid sitting around a pile of cheese-flavored crud which we are apparently supposed to believe is good enough for Dad's Client because it's baked. Actually, the best possible result would be to convince the client that this guy really really needs his business, because good lord, look what he's providing for his family's dinner table. I personally think that the client is not being silent because he senses the tension between Mom and Dad. He's being silent because he can't believe that he's been transported into an episode of Leave It To Beaver, and that he's expected to play along by putting hot orange poison into his mouth.

We end with the truly smarmy little prick of a kid (who has appeared in another ad for the same nasty sludge not-food product) awkwardly twisting his head toward the camera (I only wish he could move a little closer and that technology allowed me to smack that look off his face) and tells us that "Dad really screwed this up." Oh, the hilarity.

All we really need to make this lovely little dollop of Yesteryear complete is to film it in black and white and add a laughtrack. Ok, I'd like one more thing- for that kid to be sent to his room, forever. And for the people who wrote this mess to apologize.

But I'd settle for a promise to stop showcasing the little creep. Two commercials in, I'm sick to death of him already. Send him over to Volkswagen and let me see him get slugged in the stomach when a "Red One" drives by. Better yet, pay him in Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. That will finish him off fast enough.