This Ad...I Just...

I rarely look at the grocery ads in the Sunday paper.  Occasionally if I get sucked up into marathon-watching Extreme Couponing and feel nudged with guilt about all the "free money" I toss out every week, I'll open up the old Proctor and Gamble insert.  This morning before church, I casually picked up the insert and never made it past the first page.  Immediately, I showed it to Alan and said, "That's just creepy."  Check out the Old Spice ad below.

Mr. Old Spice creeped me out in about 247 ways.  Seriously, don't advertising agencies use focus groups or something?  Did no one look at this picture and say any of the following?:

• "Er...uh...It kinda makes my head itch."  
• "Creepy.  No, really, man...it's creepy."  
• "I don't get it." 
• "For the hair that gets...results?  Results.  Hmm.  Definition, please."

I couldn't even figure out what most of the Lilliputians gallivanting on his wavy brown locks are doing.  So, I went and fetched my big old lighted magnifier.  Run get yours, and let's take a litte look-see.

Ummmm.  Unless I'm mistaken, it looks like Mr. Old Spice KO'ed the Abominable Snowman right there on the crest of the front wave.  Take a look at this guy, and tell me they're not the same...uh...monsters.  No wonder the naked girl - wearing a Hawaiian lei - is kneeling in reverence of this heroic feat. 

Does Mr. Old Spice hear little voices on his head?  "Hey, guys, look!  It's a bear on skis!"  "Come my little prickly pear, let me scoop you up with this tiny dump truck!"  "Hold on, Beautiful Lady in the Red Dress!  I've got you!  I won't let you fall onto those giant shoulders like a bunch of flaky dandruff!"

Then, there are those chicks that are repelling down his face.  Repelling.  Down his face.  The one on the left near his attached earlobe is painting a human-sized kiss on his cheek.  Let me tell you.  No one but his own mother is going to get close enough to kiss that cheek.  Not with all that ruckus going on up above.  Paint away, sister.

If you look VERY closely at the hairline on his forehead...just above his right eye and just below the Abominable Snowman's boxing glove...you'll see a couple of women peeking out from the depths of his golden brown tresses.  I.  Just.  Whutha?

Up on the crown where a coy cowlick lies beneath the Old Spice pommade, Mr. Wonderful's alter ego rides a white stallion while eating a 6 foot long Subway sandwich.  Will he pass the cold cut combo back to the rescued-from-danger-fair-maiden riding behind him so that she can a nibble?

Surely any minute now, Mr. OS is going to hike up his hind foot to scratch the tickles on his scalp.  

Seriously, Goober.  Right now.  Reach up and scratch.  Scratch real good.

You're killin' me.  I actually scratched my head three times while typing this post.  Wait.  Make that four.

[The Head and Shoulders ad that appears above this one in the Proctor and Gamble insert simply shows a lovely lady with shiny brown tresses and really good teeth hugging a handsome fella with shiny black hair and really good teeth.  That guy.  Looks like he's the one gettin' results.]

57 Used to Look So Old

It's probably not a good idea to visit a college campus the weekend before a birthday when you're my age.  I was in Waco over the weekend for a meeting.  While there I got to see some awesome college buds.  In their presence, I felt 21 again.  We laughed, oh, how we laughed.  As soon as I saw beautiful Baylor coeds, I felt fully 2-days-shy-of-57-years-old.  

I almost didn't use this picture because it's blurry.
Then, I remembered Doris Day's soft focus close ups.
I'll play the blurring to our advantage.

Which brings me to my mom, The Meems.  This morning as I was stretching in bed I started thinking of what she looked like at the ripe old age of 57.  "I'll bet she looked way older than I do now!  Ha ha!  That's something...  I do look younger than Mom looked when SHE was 57!"

So, I decided that I would make that the theme of my birthday blog:  "My Mom Looked Way Older Than I Do When SHE was 57."  Savoring the thought how modern technology and Oil of Olay advancements have helped me preserve some of my fleeting youth, I went in search of photographic evidence.  My mission:  find a picture of Mom looking O-L-D at the age of 57.  The year was 1983.  I was 26 years young.

I pulled on my robe and shuffled into my slippers as I headed out in search of the photo box labeled 1980-1987.  We didn't take as many pictures then as we do now.  Purchasing and developing film cut down on frivolous photography.  We saved film for special occasions like birthday parties and the Easter morning style show.  AND for the boning of the Thanksgiving turkey.  (We also made our long distance calls on Sunday afternoons.) 

When I came across this picture of Mom-Boning-the-Thanksgiving-Turkey, I did a double-take.  Well, I'll be derned.  Would you look at that!  Through my 57 year old eyes enhanced with 1.5 readers, she looks young!  On the day of the deboning, my 26 year old eyes couldn't see her youth and beauty.  My magic eyes can now see the truth.

I wish that I could talk to 57 year old Meems.  We would have so much in common.  We could compare my bareMinerals products to her Merle Norman stash.  I would talk her into getting some new groovy glasses.  Then, I'd begin to hint about her hair.  She would be happy that I'm a retired stay-at-home mom.  She would not be happy that I don't sew my own clothes.

Now that I think about it, that would be a perfect way to spend the first day of my 58th year on the planet.  Casually boning a turkey with 57-year-old Meems.  We'd dig in with our fingernails letting the turkey grease soften our cuticles while occasionally popping the best juicy bites into our mouths. Our mouths would be full of turkey goodness as we talked.  I would get her to explain again exactly where the pulley bone is located.

We would laugh and laugh.  Meems has always been one of my best audiences.  She is generous with smiles and laughter.  Hugs and kisses.

She's coming over for Birthday Dinner tonight.  I may just crawl up onto her tiny 88 year old lap and cuddle.  

Happy Birthday to me.  57 looks as good as it always has.