Trader Joe's is not my friend

Like everyone else who appreciates badly-designed parking lots and checkout counters carefully placed at an illogical 75 degree angle, I shop at Trader Joe's.

I used to shop there because you could get healthier food at a cheaper price.

But the idea of eating healthy goes out the window when the shelves are stocked with tempting little numbers like these.

It's like the Pabst Blue Ribbon they sell at Whole Foods. Kind of takes the wind out of their healthy sales.

Now, I've spoken about the fact that I'm allergic to chocolate on here before, so I won't dwell on it. First let me just say thank you, but I don't need your pity. Second, I'll remind you that it doesn't close my throat or send me into shock or seizures. I just get stuffed up and sneeze - a small price to pay.

The other thing is I've been an orange and chocolate guy from way back. When there used to be a chain of Swensen's Ice Cream shops, they had a flavor called Swiss Orange Chip, which may be the best tasting chocolate/orange combination ever to be served on God's green earth.

A very close second, or berry close second (see what I did there?) is raspberry chocolate sticks. Flavor, texture, size - it just all works for me.

Except the sneezing part, but again, well worth it.

Anyway, the point is that as long as Trader Joe's carries these and many other sweet treats, I can't take their claims of "organic" and "healthy" very seriously.

Although I did hear that the raspberry and orange chocolate sticks are free-range and cage-free.

So that makes me feel better.

My own best censor

If we can't censor ourselves, who can we censor?

I was trying to think of something to post, and I started scrolling down my list of already published posts. Sprinkled throughout that list are drafts that I either started and never finished, or finished and never published.

The constant debate in the blogosphere is whether to self-police our posts, or just throw it all out there, consequences be damned. I've done both. But now I tend to be a little more discerning about the posts I publish.

I'd like to think the reason for this is that I've grown and matured as both a writer and blogger, and can see the value of being more selective in my writing.

Nah, I'm just messin' with ya. I just don't want to look like an ass.

Like most bloggers, I've occasionally used this forum to take after people and agencies in a big, bad, vicious kind of way. And I still say every one of them earned it. The problem is just because they've earned it doesn't mean I have to be the one dishing it out to them.

Almost always, having no filter leads you on the road to oblivion with both friends and potential employers (never a good thing for a freelancer).

If a friend of yours is wearing a hideous shirt - Tommy Bahama comes to mind - and you tell them, you've certainly told the truth. But to what end? What have you accomplished by it?

Now, this is not to say that every once in awhile I don't enjoy not only burning a bridge, but spreading dried leaves over it, some kindling wood then dousing it with gasoline and torching it. It can be very rewarding - but only if you're sure you're never coming back across that bridge again.

I've written posts, taken them down, then written apologies for having posted them in the first place. I used to dig my feet in and say, "It's my blog and I'll say what I want."

But, much like Jules in Pulp Ficition, it appears I'm in a transitional period.

9/11

Satisfaction

Consider this a companion piece to my friend Rich’s post The Way Advertising Should Be over at the fabulous Round Seventeen.

I can’t remember where I found this letter from Mick Jagger to Andy Warhol. It’s been floating around for a long time, but it always brings a smile to my face. Come to find out that Mick is exactly the kind of client we all want.

Who knew.

Let’s break it down shall we. First, Mick makes sure Andy knows how happy he is that he’s going to work on the project. A little positive reinforcement right off the bat - always a good thing.

Next, he provides the materials Andy needs to get the job done. Andy doesn’t have to have his staff call The Rolling Stones Ltd. offices to see what assets are available, what they can use, if there’s a style guide and what format they can be sent in.

Mick goes on to talk about his past, admittedly limited experience with the process, but he clearly understands something most clients don’t: the more complicated it gets, the worse it is. He then tells Andy to do “what ever you want…” , clearly expressing his complete trust in Andy’s taste, experience, thinking and opinions.

Then, he doesn’t put him on a deadline. He doesn’t try to grind him. Instead he offers him as much money as he needs to get the job done correctly.

He wraps it all up saying his representative will call with further information, but if he in anyway tries to rush the project, Mick wants Andy to just ignore it and take the time he needs to do it right.

All I can think is working with Mick must be a gas gas gas.

I have to believe there are still clients like Mick Jagger out there. I’ve even had some that have given me a few of the liberties Mick gave Andy. Still, in the same way it’s hard for a client to find all the qualities he wants in one agency, it’s even more difficult for an agency to find all the qualities they want in a client.

Which only goes to show you can’t always get what you want. But if you try, sometimes…

Home alone

This weekend is going to be awesome. It’s the kind of weekend a guy who’s been married as long as I have with two kids dreams about. And it doesn’t happen very often.

This weekend, the wife and daughter are away at a mother/daughter retreat they go to every year. My son, a student-council vice-president, is away on a student council overnight planning session/beach party. That can only mean one thing.

Saturday night belongs to me, and me alone. (rolling hands together) Muahhhhhh!

Here's how this weekend goes in my rich fantasy life. Since I have the place to myself, I decide to invite over 1500 of my closest friends for a wild, drunken, too-loud music, cigarette burns on the furniture, wine and beer stains on the carpet, cops have to be called kind of party. For reasons best left unsaid, there are hoists and pulleys, whipped cream and garden hoses involved. It goes until sun up.

Now here's how this weekend usually goes in my real life.

I have to make the important decision about dinner. It usually comes down to In-N-Out or Five Guys. I'm thinking this might be a Five Guys kind of Saturday. Then once I'm home, I catch up with the two nights of America's Got Talent and a week's worth of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report that have been sitting on the dvr. I'll finish my Gillian Flynn book. I'll somehow find the energy to get up off the couch and walk and feed Max, world’s greatest dog. Once that's done, I'm back on the couch and asleep by 9, a 48 Hours Mystery blaring in the background (Spoiler: the boyfriend did it).

I hope the family doesn't wake me when they come back. I'll need the rest after the weekend I'm going to have.

Guilty pleasures Part 3: The Master Of Disguise

Try to keep the groaning down. I can hear it from here.

Unlike guilty pleasures 1 (Final Destination 5) or even 2 (The Three Stooges), I'm certain I'm going to take a certain amount of ridicule for this third entry in the series. You can't change my mind. Have at it.

I'll say straight off the bat that The Master of Disguise isn't a good film (which has never been a requirement for a guilty pleasure), but it is an entertaining one.

In the ugly realm of kids films parents are forced to endure, when both of mine were younger we used to watch TMOD over and over and over. It wore out it's welcome fast, especially since my kids would repeat lines from the film. Over and over and over.

But watching it recently after not seeing it for a very long time, I found myself laughing out loud at Dana Carvey (for the right reasons). He plays a character named Pistachio - stay with me - and he just commits to it. I've always respected people who put themselves out there - consequences be damned.

Except Adam Sandler. Enough already.

See if you can keep a straight face during his (bad) Al Pacino in Scarface impression and the "...stuck in my esophagus" or "...little weiner and some tiny nuts" lines:

Alright, so maybe that clip went on a little too long and I should've warned you about the dancing over the credits at the end of it.

To make it up to you, please to enjoy this clip of Dana Carvey as Robert Shaw - Quint - from Jaws:

Yeah, yeah, I know. What can I say?

I have enough mindless drama in real life. Sometimes I just want some mindless comedy.

12 step program

NEIL: Hi, I'm Neil and I'm a moonwalker.

ALL: Hi Neil.

I'm sure there isn't a Moonwalkers Anonymous. But if there were, the first step would be to admit you've been 239,000 miles from Earth.

There have been 44 presidents. 1153 billionaires. 549 Nobel prize winners. But there are only 12 people in the history of recorded time who've walked on the moon.

I imagine at the annual People Who've Walked On The Moon reunions, who will sadly be one more member short when they next meet, the conversation is always the same:

"Can you believe we were there?"

"That's some view wasn't it?"

"Yep, it's really something."

"See you next year."

There's a famous story about how Buzz Aldrin was pissed he wasn't going to be the first man to walk on the moon. He even went so far as to complain to NASA mission control once they'd landed there. But Neil Armstrong was not only the mission commander, he had the seat next to the lunar lander door. Because of the large, bulky space suits and the small space inside, there was no way Aldrin could've climbed over Armstrong to get out first even if mission control had okay'd it.

If they had, I imagine it would've been an even longer ride back.

Understandably, not many people remember Aldrin's quote when he set foot on the lunar surface: he said, "Beautiful view...magnificent desolation." What he did do that everyone remembers (besides going to the moon) is take the haunting, timeless picture you see above of his footprint that will live on the surface forever.

In case you're wondering, here's a complete list of the club roster:

Neil Armstrong

Buzz Aldrin

Pete Conrad

Alan Bean

Alan Shepard

Edgar Mitchell

David Scott

James Irwin

John W. Young

Charles Duke

Eugene Cernan

Harrison Schmitt

I suppose a better name would be the Dream Makers club. I don't know a single person who saw the landing and didn't dream of going up there, jumping around in 1/6th the gravity of Earth and taking a joyride in the lunar dune buggy.

In the 40 years since the last moon landing, the club has gotten smaller with the passing of Armstrong, Shepard, Conrad and Irwin.

This past month, with it's two full moons and clear nights, I've been thinking that maybe with their passing they're back up there again, looking down at us, once more knowing and experiencing things we mere mortals can never know.

And of course, enjoying the view.

Godspeed.