The Runs

It pains me to have my first post in almost three weeks be titled 'The Runs.' But I can't help it that I:

1. Try to find the silver lining in almost all less than desirable situations, and

2. Am a horrible housewife, a fact previously documented on this blog.

Earlier this week, I came home after work to find our sweet little black lab, Bailey, cowering and shaking almost uncontrollably as I opened the front door. She'd done something bad and she knew it. I knew it too a few steps into the house.

The Wendy's bag I was holding no longer desirable (the new boneless wings combo with a Sprite), I set everything down in order to fully comfort Bailey. Yes, it is sweet that I chose the health and well-being of my animal over five minutes of bliss on my front porch eating the bold buffalo spiciness I smelled the entire way home. But Bailey also has bladder control issues when she's extremely nervous or excited, and I didn't want to clean up two messes.

With Bailey finally calmed down and settled on her bed, I proceeded to the kitchen to assess the damage. Two main points of deposit, runny, but no carpeting or rugs involved. Not as horrible as I was expecting.

I dug out the pet cleaner, Lysol, several plastic grocery bags and as many paper towels as I could grab, and got to work. As I was down on the floor cleaning, a yellow Wendy's napkin stuffed up my nose for gag protection, I thought "Hey, at least part of the kitchen floor will get its first good scrub in about three months." And after a flash of guilt, I briefly considered scrubbing the rest. But I had those wings waiting...come on, you would have done the same thing.

Buzz Lightyear Is Killing Me

I wasn't prepared. Nope, it was just like any other normal day. I was driving along, perhaps humming a little tune to myself. Probably speeding or cursing the car in front of me. And all of a sudden, something caught my attention. I stopped and listened. This is what I heard:



Y'all, another state's tourism ad campaign made me cry. Not like sobbing or anything, but I had to blink back the tears. And you know what? The first chance I got, I went to puremichigan.org. Since then, I've become a little obsessed.

Through some quick research, I discovered that Tim Allen is the voice over talent, an agency called McCann Erickson created the campaign, the music is from the movie Cider House Rules and there are several radio and TV spots. I also found that the Pure Michigan website experienced an increase in traffic by almost 50%. This campaign is just that good. Phenomenally well-written and unlike any other tourism ads I've seen. Perhaps a bit overly sentimental at times, but I'll take that over flashy or tough any day of the week.

So what is it that makes these commercials successful? For me, it's that they remind me of my childhood and appeal to what I think is important in life--slowing down and enjoying it. What do you think? Below are a few of my other favorites:

I’m With The Scottish

I’m not normally superstitious (I’m just a little stitious – name that quote), but this morning I experienced the mother of all superstitions: the dreaded black cat. As I opened my front door to leave for work, an all-black cat bounded across my front porch, through the bushes and down my driveway out of sight. Yup, right across my path.

For a second, I actually froze and wondered what to do next. I imagined all sorts of trouble, from a car accident on the highway to one of the ventilation tubes above my cube at work falling and flattening me. Or something less dramatic but equally painful, like a black widow spider bite or someone accidentally serving me blow fish for lunch. But since calling in superstitious does not exist on our time sheet at work, I was forced the leave the house. (Although really, I understand that something catastrophic could have easily happened at home. I would just prefer to spend my last moments watching Family Feud repeats.)

Backing out of the driveway, I was surprised to see the cat still hanging around on our lawn. He had a friend with him; a big yellow thing lounging on the sewer plate looking relaxed and overly fed. In an instant I knew he was the ringleader, the Al Capone of the group. I stopped the car for a second to stare them down. I wanted to send a tough “don’t mess with my flowerbeds while I’m at work” message. But they eyeballed me right back, probably waiting for my car to burst into flames so they could exchange a feline high-five.

And then I noticed something. The black cat was not a cat at all. Nope, too small. It was just a sweet little kitten. So, I ask, will the curse still befall me? Can there really be a wrath of the black kitten? Will my bad luck be someone snuggling and purring me to death?

Interestingly, I did my superstition homework and found that according to Scottish folklore, a strange black cat on your porch brings prosperity. Hmm. I’ll keep my fingers crossed, but really, I think the only way this thing ends is with more neighborhood cats. Excuse me, kittens.

Welcome Back Lees Summit, Missouri!

I don't even know who you are, but I've missed you. Glad to see your time and date stamp information back in the live feed box. I am, by the way, being completely serious. This little blog (okay, me) hasn't been performing at a top notch level lately and I fear I've been losing readers. I have a handful of excuses, none of which are exciting, glamorous or acceptable. Let's just say my scattered brain has been elsewhere. So I'm back in the game, with an emphasis on effort. But......

Since this post isn't really about anything substantial and I've been inundating you with video posts lately, how about some Conan bloopers from hulu.com (if you haven't checked out hulu yet, I highly recommend it):