Post-puke euphoria

I know a lot of you are going to think this post is beneath me, which only tells me you haven't been paying attention. After all, I've posted about pooping and throwing up before. I do understand some readers will be put off by the bluntness of the title. So if you want to stop reading here, I'll understand.

As you can see from the title, you might not want to be near mealtime when you read this. And you definitely don't want to be around food when you play the video.

It's a bit of an off-putting topic to say the least. But the other thing is it's a universal experience. A light after the darkness. The proverbial silver lining.

I speak of course of post puke euphoria.

We've all tossed our cookies at one time or another. And the ramp up is no fun whatsoever. First, the churning and low growling in Mr. Stomach. Then, that slight suspicion there may be trouble in paradise. It progresses to pacing left and right. Then rocking back and forth. As it gets worse, and the time is drawing near, soon comes a little porcelain-throne hugging.

Eventually, like a train you've been waiting for you thought would never arrive, it does. With one violent, unstoppable, inescapable, stomach-turning heave, you have liftoff.

Once you're running on empty, and it finally stops, something wonderful happens. The clouds part. You hear the angels sing. And you feel much better. Thirsty, but better.

You're experiencing post puke euphoria.

However the truth is PPE can be a cruel tease. There you are thinking you've turned the corner, the worst is over. But sometimes, Mr. Stomach is just laying in wait for the next opportune moment to say, "Hey Sparky, wake up and smell the last meal you had."

But those times when it really is over, and the euphoria lasts, you can literally feel your strength coming back. It's a good feeling.

Still, I'd recommend against celebrating with a bowl of chili and Sriracha-covered fries.

Cheap laughs

If you know anything about me - and with over 655 posts I'd think you would by now - you know I'm an easy audience. I want to be entertained. I come to the show ready to laugh, willing to suspend disbelief.

I work in ad agencies. I suspend disbelief every day.

Like a great ad, humor should be simple, uncluttered. You should get it instantly. A joke doesn't have to be complex to be appreciated. And it shouldn't have to be explained. That goes for one-liners as well as stories.

Here's an example: what do you call a bear with no teeth? A gummy bear. Funny isn't the point, especially with that joke. The point is you got it immediately.

Let's try a story.

Saul and Maury are walking past a church when they see a sign in the window that reads "Become a Christian. 20 minutes. Will pay $10." Saul says to Maury, "I'm gonna do it. You wanna come with me?" Maury says, "No, I'll wait for you here." So Saul goes in the church, and Maury hangs around waiting for him. 20 minutes later, Saul comes out. Maury runs up to him and says, "So? Did you get your $10?" And Saul says, "Is that all you people think about?"

That joke right there is the reason I want to audition for the road company of this.

For me, there's nothing as entertaining as watching someone who really knows how to tell/sell a joke. It's what keeps Comedy Central in business. It's the reason comedy clubs with names like Giggles, Guffaws and Mr. Chuckles dot the landscape. It's why a lot of first dates become second dates.

It's also a personal barometer. With the endless meeting after meeting I have to be in every day at work, the way I judge whether they've been a successful (is there such a thing as a successful meeting?) is if I've been able to get the biggest laugh during the course of it. I know what you're thinking. But it's not so much an attention-getting maneuver as a survival tactic. While I'm thinking of something funny to say, it means I'm not listening to whatever they're droning on about. And there'll be another meeting in an hour to review what was said in this one, so I'm not missing anything.

Anyway, look at the time. You guys have been a great crowd, so I'm gonna to leave you with one more.

Murray and Sarah are going to the zoo. They're walking around looking at the animals, and they come to the monkey cage. A monkey comes up to them, and he's making all kinds of faces and gestures. Sarah says, "He's cute. Give him a peanut." Murray says, "No, they're expensive." Sarah says, "Give him a peanut!" So Murray reaches in the bag and tosses him a peanut. The monkey looks at it, sticks it up his ass, takes it out, then eats it. Sarah says, "I have never seen anything like that! What is wrong with this monkey? Give him another peanut, he's not gonna do that again." So Murray throws another peanut in and the monkey does the exact same thing. Sarah says, "You know, there's something wrong with this monkey. I'm gonna go to the zookeeper." So she goes to the zookeeper and tells him all about it. He listens, then he says to her, "Listen ma'am, it's really not a problem. About two weeks ago, that monkey accidentally swallowed a peach pit. Ever since then, he checks everything for size."

Goodnight everybody! Tip your waitress.

P.S. Actually wanted to end this post on a raunchier joke, but the wife reminded me this is a family blog. When you see me, ask me to tell it to you.

Stair masters

The agency I’m working at right now is in Huntington Beach, right next to the water (or as I like to call it, tsunami adjacent). It’s an awesome location, an even better view and a dream commute.

Because it’s where it is, the office is in a three-story, low-profile building. No doubt it’s not any taller or wider because it had to be approved by the brain trust that is the California Costal Commission.

Anyway, because it’s not some tall, mirrored high-rise office building in Irvine (is there any other kind there?), many people, myself included, use the stairs instead of the elevator to get from floor to floor. It’s faster, it provides a little bit of exercise during the day, and it’s also a few moments of quiet and privacy if there isn’t a lot of up and down traffic.

Also, people don’t point and laugh at you like they would if you took the elevator.

I know what you’re saying to yourself – “Jeff, you’re such a perfect physical specimen, why would you need any exercise, regardless of how little the amount?” While those are kind words you say, the fact that I need an oxygen tank by the time I get to the top of the stairs tells another story.

The last time I went to the gym with any regularity was when my son was born eighteen years ago. It’s fair to say I may have let myself go just a bit in that time. Although I still get mistaken a lot for that guy who plays Thor. From the toes out you can’t tell us apart.

So trotting up the stairs (down is considerably easier) about a hundred times a day for meetings on different floors is a good workout and an incentive to work out even more.

It is some consolation a few of the people I work with, who’ve been here and have been taking the stairs much longer than I have are also winded at the end of their climb.

But like my art director partner Imke says, she takes the stairs because she can. There’ll eventually come a day when she won’t be able to.

And really, that should be incentive enough.

My head hurts

Ad agencies are overflowing with lots of things. Creative ideas. People with opinions. Knit caps. Tattoos. Bad coffee. One thing there's also no shortage of is The Overthinkers - people who overthink every little thing. Every single thing. Over. And over. And over.

Don't get me wrong: I'm all for the well thought out question. A dash of examination. A pinch of should we or shouldn't we. But I’ve often wondered what it is The Overthinkers actually bring to the table. Sure, they manage to turn every item on the brief (all fifteen pages of it) into an event in the Second Guessing Olympics, with all of them going for the gold. But beyond that, what does it all add up to?

Every time The Overthinkers reconsider a point they reconsidered a minute ago, the work has to change, because “this time they’ve got it.”

Until the next time.

It’s the reason work is constantly being revised, rewritten, revamped and regurgitated all way up to the last minute. It’s why meetings and more meetings are held to reveal the latest insight and observations.

Until the next ones.

And it’s the cause of enormous amounts of time and confusion being unnecessarily added into the process.

Planners, brand strategists, VP's of Cultural Trend Metrics - or whatever they hell they're calling themselves this week - have managed to turn what should be a single-focused insight into a Three-Card Monty game of strategy. If you can guess which card it’s under, you win the strategy to work against.

Spoiler alert: you never win.

The Overthinkers have to keep changing the rules, because if they don’t they’re out of a job. It's like the paid consultant who has to create a problem so he can solve it, and then create another one to keep the checks rolling in.

In the name of simplicity, efficiency and a better product, it might be a good thing for The Overthinkers to take one for the team and move on.

Then creatives could execute against a simple strategy, in a short, concise brief we’d only have to meet about once.

Of course, The Overthinkers might wonder why they ever left such a cush position. The good news is they’d have plenty of time to overthink about it.

Not a fan

I don't know if it's because I've watched too many horror films or I just have a vivid imagination, but I've never been a fan of ceiling fans.

Besides looking like low-speed airplane propellers hanging dangerously close to my head, they seem like an awful lot of trouble for not a lot of cooling.

For starters, there's the ceiling fan wobble they all seem to have. That's where when they're set on high speed, the entire fan - post and all - wobbles side to side violently. All you can do is wait for it to come flying off the ceiling and into whatever or whoever is waiting below.

Then there's the what-switch-does-what conundrum. There's usually a low speed, a high speed and the on/off for the light. But it seems however many times you pull the cord or flip the switch, you never quite land on the setting you're looking for.

Finally, there's the basic style of the fan. If you're going for the Kenny Rogers gambler card room look, or old west whorehouse decor, then ceiling fans might just do the trick. But for anything really contemporary, they're not going to cut it (pun intended). It doesn't matter what materials the blades are made of or what color. Ceiling fans are inherently items that all look like they came from a western saloon in the 1800's.

When it comes to cooling off the Ponderosa, I'll stick with our central air conditioning. Sure it sounds like a C-130 taking off, and definitely isn't the most energy efficient system. But damn if I don't need a sweater to stay warm when it's on to cool the house down.

Besides, I have kids. I don't want to take the chance of this happening:

Going going gone

Tonight I did something I only do once a year.

No, not write copy someone wants to read. Or eat something healthy.

I went to a fundraising auction for my kids' school. Every year, the decision is made despite the exorbitant tuition we pay for both of our well educated kids, more is needed.

It's adjacent to a theory I live and shop by: if one is good, two is better.

Anyway, what I noticed between the weekends in Mammoth, the day on the 42-ft. yacht, and the four days at the Grand Hyatt in Kauai that were all being auctioned off, was the ringmaster of the entire event.

The auctioneer. It seems to me auctioneering is right on par with fountain pen repair and diamond-cutting when it comes to lost arts.

The gentleman tonight made me realize it requires more than just fast talk. Auctioneers have to be comedians, mathematicians, athletes and salesmen all at the same time. They also have to have a radio-quality voice and know how to use it.

I didn't bid on anything tonight, although I did contribute $500 to a Fund Needed portion of the show. I hope those elementary school kids stop picking their nose long enough to email me a thank you note for the wireless antennas I bought for their classrooms.

Anyway, for me, the highlight of the evening was watching and listening to the auctioneer, practicing the art he's mastered. There's just something spellbinding about watching someone who knows exactly what they're doing.

In advertising we don't get nearly enough of that.

Friendscaping

A couple years ago I was talking to Jeff Nicosia, a writer friend about Facebook. I mentioned I had way too many friends on there - the majority of them weren't even in the inner circle - and I was thinking about thinning the herd. To which he replied, “Never underestimate the value of a little friendscaping.” Good advice. And not just on social media.

The longer I'm on these sites, the more I wonder why I got on them in the first place. However one benefit is I can actually control who sees what I post and who I interact with.

Naturally I want as many people as possible to see my funny, snarky remarks, and click on the links I post to this blog and get the word out. And I'll be the first to admit, even if you're not, that when I go on an obsessive/compulsive tear about the Kardashians, or live Tweet the Academy Awards, it's a funny read. You know it is.

It's the kind of quality writing that's attracted over 24 followers to this blog.

The truth is I don’t want it enough to carry the deadweight of people I haven't heard from in a year or two. Also, I've grown weary of seeing the same predictable comments and memes I disagree with get posted to my timeline or Twitter feed from people who have no other contact with me. I've put up with their posts just like they've put up with mine. But my patience for all this unearned reciprocity is thinning.

It may be the only thing about me that is.

Some friends, make that acquaintances, think social media is a big contest to get as many contacts/friends as they can. It's alright, they're entitled to think what they want. I'm not going to judge them. I won’t call them needy. And desperate for attention. I won’t do it.

So today, I’m taking Nicosia's advice and doing some long overdue friendscaping. Which means tomorrow, I’ll have a fewer number of friends online.

But the ones that're left will know they mean more to me than just a larger tally.