And Another thing…

I haven’t watched the advertising documentary called Art and Copy yet – but I have watched the trailer. I can’t remember who says this in the film, or exactly how, but basically it goes like this, “90% of the time, what we are selling people is what they wish their lives were like.” Hmmm.

That explains why I could disappear for hours into Real Simple magazine. If you haven’t read it – It’s basically a magazine with picture after picture of professionally organized and beautiful rooms. No mess or clutter, just gorgeous simplicity and superb art direction. I could stare at it’s pages for days – As my husband likes to point out, it’s pornography. It is. It’s our world as we wish to see it. Beautiful, unblemished, freshly painted, and staring at us from the pages of a magazine – almost close enough to touch.

It’s a form of delusion that I frequently get frustrated about. Is it healthy to fantasize about things that are really impossible? No one that I know, has that much control over their surroundings. Just like air-brushed bodies in Playboy, Real Simple makes a home look fantasy perfect. Ugh.

I live in the real world. It’s kinda like The Matrix. (Is my sci-fi showing again?) But there seems to be this fantasy world out there that keeps being presented to us. When Morpheus offers Neo the truth – Neo wakes up in the real world – which is kinda messy and not so nice.

But, I believe it is better to be wide awake – This is it folks, me and my mess. And the people who help me keep awake are my kids. Best little reality checkers in town.

As I am typing this my daughter is currently turning buckets of puzzles upside down in the other room. My son is upstairs making sure that the beds never get made. And the dishes seem to be multiplying on their own. But, life in the real world…It’s pretty good. Especially when the mess makers are cuddling in bed with me and saying, “I love you mommy.” I don’t think anyone could ever package and sell that.

Still – I can’t help but think about a robin’s egg blue room, and one vase on the dresser, with branches from a pink dogwood arching out in all directions.

Th*#k you, I know I do laundry and menstruate

I was just on Facebook, and the ads on the side bar are bugging me lately…”42 year old women qualify today for discounted boots!” What? Why? I know how old I am, stop making me remember it.

Which reminds me, on the nights that I decide to watch network television, I get monumentally annoyed with the ads. Especially when I am watching a show that I fit demographically. It really is exhausting. All of the ads to cover my gray, diaper my kids, stop the leakage, prevent pregnancy, and fill in my wrinkles…Oh and Andie MacDowell does not look like that…I know what they do in edit suits.

I’m off topic…my point is, I do not like being so strategically marketed to. Maybe it’s because I married into advertising and my standards are higher, or maybe I just like to complain. But, what bugs me the most is how patronizing it all is. I do not smile with pride as I unload the dishwasher. I do not sniff my dry laundry like Tony Montana. I do dance and dust…

I would like something more complex from advertisers, more abstract, challenge me. Don’t hit me over the head with a can of Pledge. For Christ’s sake, I know Pledge is for dusting. What I am trying to express, is that I like knowing I’m typical just about as much as I like knowing I’m over 40 and my bikini line has crossed the borders.

But ya know, it’s no better for dudes. Especially if you’ve seen the ads they play during golf and 60 Minutes…I’ll take Dove Chocolates over Flomax any day.