"Here's your F--ing Chocolate Diamonds. Will they buy me even an HOUR of peace?"

So I guess the male half of this couple, bitterly regretting his decision to take his honey to the Levian Chocolate Diamonds Exhibit Sponsored by Kay Jewelers at the local museum, got really sick of listening to the twit blather on and on with her recital of Everything She Just Learned About Chocolate Diamonds From The Signs (hey look, she's literate!  What a great catch!)  and wandered off to the gift shop for some Me Time.

While he was there, he heard a few people checking out the snow globes complaining about this leggy lunatic who can't stop dropping obvious hints about how much she just loves these Chocolate Diamonds.

Resignedly, he pulled out his MasterCard and shelled out for one of the stupid rocks, already inflated in price but even more so at a museum gift shop.  As if the fricking $20 entrance fee wasn't enough-- and oh holy jesus, he also said something about dinner at that upscale cafe afterwards.  It never ends, this shit.

I had to desperately distract her from the secondary prize that came with the ring: Me.

I just can't wrap my head around the massive mess of dumb that makes up this mercifully short ad.

"How far would you go?  Some guys are going to extremes..." what, seriously?

"He proposed to me at the bottom of the ocean (appreciative witless giggle.")

"I had to propose to her at zero gravity."  Are you f--ing kidding me?  Might I inquire why, exactly?

Do you ever allow yourself to realize that when you "go to extremes" by proposing in scuba gear, or while in the stratosphere, or on a roller coaster, or with the help of the morons running the Jumbotron, you are essentially admitting that you feel the need to smear expensive, showy lipstick on a pig?

In other words, do you realize that your determination to propose in such a blatantly "off-key" way is just a confession that there's nothing especially special about YOU, so you'd better put a gigantic ribbon on this not very impressive gift?

And to the woman who gushes about the rock she was offered by bleating "who could say no to THAT?"-- I get it.  Who could say no to the big pretty rock.  She isn't being asked to say Yes to being Mrs. Henry Jones.  She's being asked to accept the pretty rock.  Who could say no to it?  Not her.  Sure, it means she's got to take this guy with it- but check out this rock again!

Acura gives its Luxury Middle Finger to the Rest of Us

Tell me you don't want this commercial to end with the guy with the luxury house and the luxury car having a luxury collision with a luxury tractor trailer truck which leaves his luxury chest impaled on his luxury steering column and luxury paramedics prying his luxury ass out of his crushed luxury car with the luxury jaws of life.

Hell, I'd settle for seeing him have a luxury heart attack.  I don't ask for much.

I mean, just check out the message in this ad: This guy has it great, best of everything.  His life couldn't be better, if the value of a life is measured by the number of luxury items one is surrounded with.  But all this luxury pales in comparison to....the luxury of his car.  I can just imagine if the one actor in his commercial was narrating it himself- "I thought my life was awesome until I sat my pampered butt down in my Acura.  Then I realized- 'my life is REALLY awesome!'"  Ugh.

Oh, and the people who wrote this disgusting, bile-inducing pile of steaming elephant dung?  There's no way you die painfully enough for me.  I hate all of you so very much- even more than you hate us, if that's even possible.

Wait till his ingrown toenail prevents him from attending her wedding

I'm on this stuff right now, ok?  My head hurts, my eyes are itchy, I'm coughing, I have an ear ache  and my nose is runny.  But today I also walked ten miles to Washington DC on Saturday and hit the gym afterwards because darn it, it's nice outside and I love the exercise.   I'm uncomfortable, but it takes a lot more than allergies to keep me confined indoors on a nice day.

The guy on this ad also has allergies.  He looks like he has the same symptoms as I do.  But look what's happening here- he's coughing and sneezing, so he's staying indoors rather than teaching his daughter how to ride a bike.

I don't have any kids.  I don't think I have to know what it is to be a parent to make a judgement call on the guy in this ad:  Buddy, your daughter wants to learn how to ride her bike.  She wants her Dad to help teach her how to ride that bike.  Buddy, I don't give a flying damn how much you are sneezing, how watery your eyes are, or how much your throat itches.  Get your fat ass outside and teach your daughter how to ride her bike. 

Because allergies are a pain.  But the allergic reactions you can treat with Allegra aren't life-threatening, they are just annoying.  If they keep you inside on days you have nothing especially interesting to do, or when there's a good game on tv, fine.  If they keep you inside when you could be teaching your daughter how to ride a bike but you won't because you don't like sneezing, you are a disgusting, self-absorbed ass, your wife could have done much better, and I doubt very much you'll have any trouble coming up with equally lame excuses for not going to her future dance recitals, track meets and graduations (those are held outside sometimes, oh horrors!)  This guy is acting as if he's reprising John Travolta's role in The Boy in the Plastic Bubble.  Dickwad.

AT&T and Facebook: Terminally Stupid Together

We've all been in museums, libraries, and other once-quiet, peaceful places with this woman.  We all recognize her- she's the empty-headed idiot walking right past art and knowledge and barely managing to avoid bumping into walls because she's got her eyes glued to that m---f----ing screen in her hand.  She inspires feelings of intense disgust in all of us- disgust that we really hope does not turn to anger if that thing starts vibrating or chirping every few seconds, outright rage if the ringtone starts blaring.

And we wonder- what the hell is this person doing here?  As far as I know, there's no law requiring that drooling Facebook and/or cellphone addicts spend any time at all in museums or libraries or parks or anywhere else the rest of us are trying to enjoy a little of the unplugged life.  (Hey, losers- you guys aren't required to go to movies, either.  Just in case you didn't know, because you don't act like you do.)  Any of us really mind if people who want to chat and text and obsess over Facebook every waking moment of the day never make an appearance in a museum?  Can I assume that if they just find a rock to crawl under (a rock that does not interfere with their 4G, of course) they will not be missed?

Oh and by the way, is it safe to assume that when this idiot finally gets to escape from the Oh So Boring 'Cause It's So Not Being on Facebook museum and meet up with friends, she won't have the slightest idea of how to respond to the question "so, what did you do today" because she won't remember a bit of it beyond the time she spent daydreaming about being back on Facebook?

And is it also safe to assume that this sawdust-for-brains ditz will continue to pollute all the quiet, interesting places I like so much and spend all of her time staggering around in a bored daze while I mentally beat her to death with her own phone?

Geico takes a stab at cross-marketing

"Happier than the Pillsbury Dough Boy going to a Baking Convention."

That's the punchline.  Seriously.

Well, don't I feel stupid now.  I actually thought that "Happier than Paul Revere with a cellphone" might possibly be the bottom of the barrel for Geico and it's intensely stupid Jackassses With Banjos And Horrible Punchlines Which Dont Even Come Close to Providing a Payoff for the Extended Setup ad campaign.  Man,  do I deserve my audience an apology.

Because I didn't even take into account the possibility that Geico might start partnering with other companies in their commercials (is a Geico Lizard Loves Grands Biscuits spot on the horizon?)  What's next- "Happier than a mentally ill squirrel headed off to see Iron Man III?"  This Car Insurance/Bleached Dough Stuffed With Chemicals crap  makes the Peanuts characters pitching MetLife look absolutely genius.

By the way, anyone else wonder why the Pillsbury Dough Boy would be happy to be going to a "baker's convention?"  He's made of dough, for chrissakes.  So he's excited at the prospect of dozens of tables loaded up with relatives subjected to 400 degree temperatures and laced with icing?  What the hell?

Or am I just overthinking this stuff again?

Next year, KFC will serve it up in liquid form

Ok, let's take this slowly...

Somehow the loathsome bag of grease (we are what we eat, right?) starring in this commercial managed to consume a box of fried chicken parts without taking a breath, or allowing a thought to enter his sawdust-mottled head, which might have caused him to notice that the junk he was consuming was BONELESS.  He simply inhaled this life-shortening garbage until there was nothing left in the box but a few crumbs.  I wonder if he bothered to taste it.  At least one of his fellow lunchchoads did, because he comments on how good it is.  But this guy just stored it away like a chipmunk getting ready for the winter.

And anyway, is it really a good idea to encourage the expedited consumption of "food" like this?  At least if the KFC has bones, you have to take your time eating it.  Which means your body has time to recognize that it's getting full, and can get that message to your brain that it's time to stop eating.  Oh, but wait...why would KFC want you to stop eating?  This is the "restaurant" that fills soda cups with fried batter and calls it "Popcorn Chicken," after all.

So maybe "take this slowly" was not the best way to start this blog post.  KFC doesn't want you to take this slowly.  KFC wants you to pack it away and come back for more, quickly.  If they can find new ways to allow you to get more crap into your body faster, all the better for the bottom line.  Sure, you also die faster- but they have no doubt you are passing your horrendous eating habits on to your unfortunate offspring.  Please remind them that popcorn chicken can now be Super-Sized.