Junk/ Food

IN THIS ECONOMY, I guess I can understand why advertisers might feel the need to resort to the overt sexualization of, well, everything. For example:



Personally, I find that ad a tad ambiguous for my taste. I prefer this:



In case you missed it: unmanageable pubic hair is unsightly.

Some homophobes are, apparently, upset about this Quizno's ad -- but only because the oven is male:



Speaking of phallic sandwiches, the reigning champion of ads-that-make-everyone-regrettably-uncomfortable is still Burger King. Good-bye, homoerotic King of yore.

Wake up with the King 'just watching you sleep.'

IN THIS ECONOMY, we've decided to go a different direction -- with doe-eyed blond blowup dolls who are visibly frightened and awed by the uber-masculine, vegetable-less Super Seven Incher.

I bet you look good in the psych ward.

I think about Halloween pretty much all year.
.

In January, I'd decided on Darla from Dazed and Confused -- mostly so I could act like an asshole all night.

.

"Air raid, bitches!"

April: Margot Tenenbaum. But, really, I can't pull off a shirt-dress. And where am I going to get a wear-once fur coat that I'm actually willing to wear once? And a wooden finger? And I have to smoke for the night?

Nah.

Now I'm undecided, and experiencing great inner turmoil (brunettes are, sadly, limited), but since I'm a chick, I guess my costume has to be SEXY!

"I don't know if you noticed, but I am female."

I thought I'd seen SEXY! stretched to the limit by the sorostitutes in Morgantown, who enacted the SEXY! bumblebee; the SEXY! cop; the SEXY! bin Laden; the SEXY! food; SEXY! Stewie, SEXY! Spongebob, etc. -- but, today, I'm glad to see the return of the sexy mental patient.

I don't really understand this costume, as it renders jello shots pretty much impossible, but welcome back to 1991, you SEXY! beast.

Spawn in a box.

Album de Famiglia will sell you a crib made out of a cardboard box -- with wheels on it -- for only $255.

.

Because, until someone comes out with a better idea -- like a crib shaped like a Dumpster -- there's no better way to say, "Sleep tight, God's Little Mistake."

Blaming your parents in therapy will never go out of style.

Generation Worst.

As much as I dislike teacher kitsch, such as crafty holiday sweaters, or the keychain I found in my mailbox today ("5 Reasons Why I Became a Teacher: 1. weekends; 2. snow days; 3. Easter vacation; 4. Christmas vacation; 5. summer vacation"), two facepalm-inducing events today have forced me to consider purchasing one of those ceramic jars labelled Ashes of former students.

Colleagues: drink the pain away.

1. The huge number of female 11th graders who thought it was a good idea to turn in a final portfolio with a picture of themselves posed semi-provocatively on the cover page astounds and disturbs me. To be fair, I never said not to do this. To be fairer, it ought to go without saying that the world is not Myspace; your English teacher knows what you look like, and she would prefer not to be saddled with 90 softcore child pornfolios.

2. And then there's "Cloud 9," a haiku homage not written for Caryl Churchill:

Cloud 9

High up in the sky

Sitting on cloud 9 is fly

I am really high

This author did not include a picture of himself (because I'll see him again next year), but he did title his project "A Poem to Share is a Poem that Cares." I hesitate to even assume he used personification intentionally, but at least he gets rhyming. And it's not like the only thing he consistently excelled in this year was being a huge waste of time and space -- he also inspired me to write a haiku of my own.

Cloudy, With a Chance of FAIL

This is why you got
ninety out of two-forty.
How fly is that, bitch?