Official DR endorsement! (With his, comes mine.)

I also thought that this new and very much improved campaign poster would look great with DR’s illustrious color scheme. Was I right or was I right? Pound!

Good question.

Nice face.

Lately I’ve been “taking care of some paperwork,” i.e. sorting through 100s of generally worthless digital photos I’ve taken in 2007. A lot are from the subway. Most are outdated. But the above ad for Borough of Manhattan Community College (BMCC), which has bugged me for at least six months now, is still up there in many subway cars. So I’d like to point out how COMPLETELY FAKE (I’m pretty sure) it is.

Right? No way were those four peeps in the same original shot. MAYBE two of them knew each other. The rest is total Photoshop, and by the way thanks Photoshop for making me wonder if this particular school regularly rewards its graduates/fake friends by flinging them into a blurrily distorted pit of flames. (I know metaphorically that’s what all colleges do, but this ad is quite a literal interp of “Welcome to the real world, bitches!”) Too literal, I say. Throw a tree in there or something.

The girl on the left’s in an entirely different LAYER. Who the F was she laughing at in her original photograph? That dude got gypped.

Until about 2005 I used to write that word as “jipped.” I like to think it’s because I’m so inherently not racist against gypsies, but really it’s because I just didn’t know any better. I tend to float along in my own realm, pausing only to point out all the pretty head scarves and giant gumdrops in the ether (they’re there!), so I’ve ended up missing the boat on so many words/phrases that people with merely average IQs all know. “Youth in Asia,” anyone? Ugh. It’s not even funny. I should compose an official list.

At least I know Photoshop terms like “layer.”

I took this pic in February but it still applies.

Am I the only person who finds Altoid mints disgusting? Like, chew a piece of gum. Eat a Tic-Tac. Drink coffee, even. Just get those things away from me because if you happen to lift the top of that totally pretentious tin, I might accidentally take a whiff and die. Altoids are universally rank. Also, jank.

So there’s clearly no way I’m interested in seeing/tasting Altoids’ “chocolate balls,” which is a shame, because I am obsessed with chocolate balls of the non-Altoid variety. The concept of the CB is beautiful to me. It’s the perfect example of an essential household item. Of course the specimen should consist of chocolate, and of course it should form a sphere. I really don’t see what other type of household item you would want.

I grew up subsisting 30% on Fannie May chocolate balls that Dee left in little crystal dishes around the house. The CBs were individually wrapped in bright-colored foil that made an awesome sound when I crinkled it right next to my ear verrrry slowwwwwwly, because even when wee, I was completely insane. (I still do the ear-crinkle today, and even ask other people for their discarded foil wrapping… as if they had any use for it whatsoever. Sick!) Dee’s fancy dishes were a nice touch; who wants to pluck a CB from a plastic bowl? Pass!

(Who would store her CBs loosely on her crumb-y coffee table, like wayward marbles, if she had them in her own apartment? Me, but I believe we were scrutinizing Dee’s household, not mine.)

I don’t even know what the point of this was; I’m just trying to get rid of all my “drafts”. You lose, no refunds, refer to title of website, etc.

It’s not that I don’t like you if you like Altoids. I just don’t like Altoids. Swim around in that puzzle at your own risk. WARNING: No lifeguard on duty!!!

This post is totally gonna get hits from people looking for porn. Also, because I just said “porn.”

DR correspondent Michael Slezak (google alert!) took the liberty of printing out this gem from his AOL inbox:

He left it sitting on my chair — conveniently, right where my ass goes. Very clever. I could have just digital-imaged it straight from a computer, but decided to photograph it directly instead for the sake of authenticity — in the form of the two slight folds below “Flush” and above “up.” Totally didn’t need to point those out for you. It’s just that I have this extraordinary work ethic and sometimes run out of ways to channel it!

I appreciate the artwork and color scheme of this ad. I do wish it didn’t make me feel like such a heifer. Because, you see, the wording “this meal” is overwhelmingly inaccurate. This grub constituted probably seven of my meals last week, or any week for that matter. So I resent the implication, Colonex. My digestive tract is way more busted than you can even fathom. But nice try.

(For their next ad, Colonex may wish to consider this concoction that Dee found in a magazine three years ago.)

And I should have showered.

Photo is from two weeks ago. Keepin’ it fresh!

Um, Starbucks? Maybe I HAVEN’T.

You better not pull this crap with the sugar.

—

Happy 29th, James! Remember this? (A beyond-awful DR digital short)

“Still rolling, still rolling.”
“Still rolling!”
“Are we still rolling?”

We are. Miss you.

They’re open. Go in.

Rad ’80s font greatly appreciated.

Two weeks ago, I moved to the Carroll Gardens/Red Hook vicinity. I’m so cool. Check out some of my fave sights from the environs thus far:

Ha.

Ha!

YES!

I always do!

Welcome to the neighborhood, Annie!

Fine, a few pics from inside the “Apt.” (I posted these and more a few days ago by burying them in the archives. But that was bogus. Wait, you don’t care.)

The essentials.

Some backstory on that sad tomato, from an April 13 e-mail from Dee Barrett:

At T (Target), I purchased a ceramic tomato that I am almost certain Meghan said “we just HAVE to buy this for Annie” last time we were there together. The clearance tags were mounted one on top of the other, suggesting that this really is the tomato that nobody would ever buy. I’ll bet Annie would have purchased it at its original price ! However, always after a deal, the tomato is now ours for the very low sticker price of $2.47 !

Oh, D (Dee) !

The essentials (cont.)

Best desk ever. Note the pack of brownie bites sidling up to the PTP.

From living room into office. Jury’s still out on whether this room is called Office or Study. (Bordering-on-Tacky Lair of Sublime Creativity, Possibly, In The Future, If I Ever Get My Act Together… was too long.)

Kitchen, including the bane of my existence for 3.5 years: Three incredibly annoying “Lack” shelves from Ikea that are literally impossible to put in a wall. Milk crates, rug gripper, stand ‘em up on the floor? Sure!

Living room. Time to play Where’s The Cheeseburger Pillow?

First documented homemade Mexican Pizza featuring: Scallions! (4/30/07)

The End.

I’ve been gazing at this Special K ad, across the street from my office, all winter. I’ve had it. Get this through your numbskulls, snowmen: You look so much better fat! You’re not SNOWMEN if you’re not fat. I pick Snowman #2 as the one who looks Just Right. The emaciated tools on the far right, thankfully out of focus, shouldn’t even exist in someone’s mind, let alone ON THE SIDE OF A BUILDING.

Phooey!

Happy spring.

I spent the week in Illinois. You know what that means!

Here’s another rare find along Chicago’s Interstate 55. This highway sure does have a highly developed sense of humor. (One of its other features, a subliminal advertisement for California Pizza Kitchen, has playfully toyed with my heart since I was wee.)

I think I swerved across three lanes while attempting that photo, thus ironically increasing my chances of “getting plowed.” This site is so gonna come up on google searches for “getting plowed”. Ugh. Yes!

Then there’s this:

The Interstate 294 shot I always wanted to remember to take and now I have. I rule! It’s an Entenmann’s FACTORY! I’ve always missed it because it pops up right before O’Hare and I’m always busy rummaging through my candy stash for the flight or realizing I left my passport in a different car or something. I’d usually make some sort of exasperated sound, like “Enhhhh!” to which my concerned parents would be like “What?!” And then I’d keep silent, because “I just missed taking a f—ing photo of the Entenmann’s factory — AGAIN” isn’t exactly how I like to be remembered, post-visit.

Kidding! Look, mom and dad! Entenmann’s factory! Remember me?

Dee bought these awesome Cadbury Buttons while we were on vacation at Christmas. Everybody loves buttons, and I am always quick to go with the crowd, so I knew these would be a hit with me. Just look at this kickass wrapper with an enormous cartoon button on it. Gaze adoringly at the bubble-like notches. Awwww!

But look:

NO NOTCHES.

These are not buttons! These are coins. But since they’re not worth anything, they’re actually most like the small, silver, coin-like discs of the same size that my sister and I used to “collect” while roaming around our dad’s unfinished construction projects. I don’t know what these things were or what they fell out of, but every time we went with Bill to “check the jobs,” there would be a fresh smattering of worthless silver coins in every room. Maybe the workers left them there to toy with us. I believe Meg and I would compete to see who could find more “money,” until we got sick of it and started tearing up large swatches of cotton candy-like pink insulation instead. Yes, the chemically poisonous kind. Ah, childhood.

Back to candy. Once you wipe the tears away from the false-advertising setup, the Cadbury Buttons are seriously amazing. The slight curvature on the top lends to some terrific mouth-melting, and January 23rd is by no means too soon to begin raving about the distinct chocolatey/oddly fruity (at the end) taste only America’s favorite vaguely British Eastertime import can provide.

But still. I call bullshit!

Who does this?

I’m really big on catching killer digital photos (which are apparently more important than my life) while driving on major highways in Illinois.

I love how, in addition to legitimately cool flavors like Moose Tracks and Turtle Tracks, they threw in Vanilla and Butter Pecan. Ha, I scoffed. Vanilla? Yeah right! The term “really cool flavor” must have lost its sacredness!

But no, think about it. Vanilla ice cream is delicious. Visualize yourself taking a bite. Good, now let it sit there on your tongue. Don’t corrupt it. Just let the trickle-down effect kick in. You’re in heaven. Look, there’s some wireless Internet.

I favor Haagen Dazs and Dairy Queen’s vanillas, but Dean might be okay too. The truck art is a really smart ad. People might not order straight-up vanilla at an ice cream shop because their friends would think they were boring. But vanilla is the perfect flavor to buy for at home, where you can be as boring as you want.

Still, ix-nay on the Butter Pecan.

There’s something I’ve wanted to do on this site for years now. It’s been very important to me ever since I got my license at 16 and began driving to and from Chicago on Interstate 55. I became obsessed with a tiny sign barely visible from the road. But I’d never been able to snap a decent picture of it because I was either driving alone or too slow on the uptake to get a good shot. Actually, it was always both of those things. You know how it is — one hand on the wheel, the other on a Slurpee. Which one gives?

Not to mention, it’s dangerous to practice digital photography on a highway and I’m not even a good driver. The choice was always between my life or this photo, and like Nicole Kidman suddenly impassioned at the empty train station, I chose life. Until last weekend.

The following is a phenomenon I’ve kept completely private until now. Well, I finally snapped a photo and now get to share:

The sign on the left is for some sort of industrial company called “International.” I have no idea what they make. Possibly valves. It doesn’t matter. The point is, that company’s sign has forever reminded me of the logo for California Pizza Kitchen.

WOULD YOU JUST LOOK at these two beautiful specimen, finally side by side! I’m having a mini meltdown here. I’m like, approaching the consistency of a piping hot Thai Chicken Pizza right here in front of my screen. Somebody grab the digicam!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am on top of my tiny little world right now. For years, I’d thought “Hey, looks like CPK” while driving by the sign. Every single time, I’d give a little wave or a wink — even if I wasn’t alone. Nothing excessive. Sometimes it’s just nice to acknowledge things you care about.

This is a dream. Everything suddenly makes sense. Do you understand? A small portion of my life’s work has just been checked off the list. That’s never even happened yet!

Dee (my mom) and I came across this monstrosity in the parking lot of the Countryside, Illinois Dominick’s supermarket. (Holla!) We were only doing a quick drive-by to mail a letter in the big blue box near the entrance, since Dee doesn’t trust our mailman. Kidding. We had actually just missed the mailman on our street and Dee got really excited about her quick-fix solution. “I know what we’ll do!” she exclaimed, not exactly telling me where we were going. If it hadn’t been for this beverage structure, the mailing trip might have been a letdown.

I may as well admit that neither of us really “got” the point of the structure right away. We were butt-up against it and at first only gawked at it becuase of its enormous size. Dee uttered something along the lines of “Huh!” I think I said something derisive, like, “Why was that necessary?” Excessive displays like this often annoy me.

I continued. “What’s with the random Dasani at the top?”

Dee gasped. “Annie! Do you see what it is?”

And I finally did. Jesus, I’m a moron. That little kid walking by probably knew it was a flag before I did, and he’s not even educated.

Or maybe I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. I do have a vision/brain deficiency that restricted me from ever seeing the images or hallucinations or hieroglyphics (I honestly wouldn’t know which of those words is more accurate) in those rampant Magic Eye posters from the generally awful 1990s. I detested those, and to this day I’m still aghast that they ever existed. Who even liked them beyond the first triumphant glimpse? Why would anyone actually purchase one of these? Christ. Get a better hobby!

A commercial for Veet came on during last night’s episode of The O.C. I was barely watching, but then at the end of it I caught this image infiltrating my screen. (right). A woman was actually shown shaving her legs in a zigzag. Zig zag. Zig-zag. Is that one word? Maybe I should Wikipedia it. Yeah right.

Oh, the commercial. When the woman did this, I was under the initial impression that the commercial was for a razor. Most of them are. Why would it be the cream? No. So I perked up, all interested in what kind of new, fun, pillow-edged razor I should buy so I can start shaving my legs in the pattern of long and winding roads. It suddenly seemed like I and everyone else should have wanted to do this all along — shave our legs in whatever design suited our fancy right at that moment. Heart! Turkey sub! Doggie bone! I felt uncreative for having never thought to plow a shape into my leg hair.

As soon as I found out the ad was for a funky depilatory cream and not a razor, I was really let down. There wasn’t a new, cool razor that could make zigzags. It was literally a person slathering cream all over herself and then wiping it off with a somewhat sharp, pink mini-spatula. That’s gross.

Wow. I never realized how anti-depilatory I was. It’s not even that I’m pro-razor. I hate razors. Nobody likes shaving. People dread it. But… why is the idea of depilatory cream so much worse than carefully dragging what is commonly considered a weapon over my surface area?

If you think about it, shaving is scary!

I’m gonna wake up in the morning and be so disappointed in this post.

I don’t usually enjoy or even bother to examine subway ads, but this one was pretty well-done. Allow me to translate as it’s a touch blurry: “Everyone has to grow up. It is a fact of life. Don’t be scared of it. Just make sure your apartment grows up with you.”

Even though the design made me chuckle, I call bullshit on both ideas: That people’s friends look down at them because their apartments are too cluttered, and that people should care even if their friends do think that. It’s New York. No one’s surprised to walk inside a studio and see piles of crap (left), mine especially. Yes, visitor, my extra-large-for-some-reason futon does happen to puncture your thigh as you step through the door. So what? It likes you. There’s a place for you to sit and a toilet. Get over it. I don’t need to hear that it’s small, or that you “really like the exposed brick.” People usually tell me both things — the latter purely out of pity. It’s oddly reassuring.

Note to Manhattan Mini Storage: No one in Manhattan whose apartment looks “scary” has too much stuff. They just don’t have any space to put their normal amounts of stuff because evil powers much like yourselves charge them inordinate amounts of money to occupy indoor space in Manhattan. I ride the subway because sometimes it’s fun to roam around such a huge space with more than one partition. I do it to forget the low-lit troll cave I just minutes ago escaped. A reminder that I live in a freaky dungeon is simply uncalled for.

I really need to move to Brooklyn.

I need this (right) in my life right now. In the commercial for it, a guy eats one while driving a convertible. Convertibles are impressive and cool, which means so will I be when I rip into one of these on the street. I call it “Big Mess of Crap from Taco Bell” but a simple Google search will tell you it’s actually the Crunchwrap Supreme and that it has returned due to popular demand.

Check out Crunchwrap Supreme’s Diary for proof. Two questions: 1) How did I miss this the first time? 2) Who is in charge of hiring people to write blurbs in the voice of the Crunchwrap Supreme? That needs to be my new job.

Loyal readers such as my parents and that’s about it will remember my aversion to liquid cheese (LC) and wonder, “Annie, why would you or your really popular website endorse a product filled with ‘’Warm Nacho Cheese Sauce?'’ This is a good question, and to be honest the idea of WNCS still definitely freaks me out. But the WNCS constitutes such a small percentage of the Crunchwrap that its existence is mildly acceptable. (After I actually eat one, the WNCS’s rating will likely jump from “mildly acceptable” to “so very necessary” because I’m a traitor like that.) As evidenced by the animated text pockets on Taco Bell’s website, there is so much else the Crunchwrap Supreme has to offer, like “Seasoned Beef,” “Cool Sour Cream,” and every health nut’s favorite, “Fresh Lettuce and Tomatoes.” Health nuts will love the Crunchwrap Supreme!!!

Mine all-time fave Taco Bell item is the Mexican Pizza, which I also call “Big Mess of Crap from Taco Bell.”