In the moment.

This has been on my mind a lot lately.

I am preoccupied with the idea of gratification: why we want what we want, and what it feels like to get it.

It’s like getting a job. When you’re out of work, nothing in the world seems as important as getting a job. Then you get a job, and there’s that moment–YAY! I got a JOB! All is right with the world! …And then two months later you wish you could stab yourself in the eye with a hot poker just to get out of having to go to work.

You see it everywhere: If I had a bigger house, everything would be great. If I could lose 20 pounds, everything would be great. When really, a bigger house will drive you nuts because it’s more house to keep clean. You lose 20 pounds and you still feel fat.

Won’t the thing we wished for always disappoint us? I’ve known people who base their entire conception of happiness on these moments. The next, newer, bigger, faster, more exciting thing. Their lives are a series of highs punctuated by lows–the lows of the absence of gratification, and the even worse lows where something that was supposed to lift them up instead lets them down.

This is how I often feel about people who are intent on getting published. Yes, there are people who know exactly what they’re in for. But there are just as many people who have big problems in their lives and seem to think that writing and publishing a book will fix it all. “But I don’t expect to be famous,” they say. “I just want to know that I’ve done it.”

Yeah, that’s a nice moment, to be sure. But at the end of the day, it’s a moment like all others–and like the others, the misty excitement of it will fade away and leave you wondering where you glory went.

Not to mention that being published isn’t exactly a cure-all. You go from being one of the struggling masses of unpublished people to being one of the struggling masses of published people. And despite the claims I’ve seen that just seeing one’s book on a shelf would be enough to sustain the glow for all time, it’s NOT. Trust me. You’d see your book, feel the golden moment, and then start wondering why no one is buying your book–why is it STILL on the shelf? And when it’s off the shelf, why haven’t they ordered more?

Maybe I say this too much. Maybe I’m a broken record. But listen up, my friends:

IF YOU ARE NOT HAPPY UNPUBLISHED, BEING PUBLISHED WILL NOT MAKE YOU HAPPY.

It won’t. It just won’t. The same way that the new car, the new house, the bigger paycheck, will not make you happy.

I’m not saying don’t write, or don’t strive for success. By all means, do. But while you work on your book, also work on fostering a sense of how lucky you are regardless of whether you’re a bestselling author or not. And when the glorious moments come, keep them in perspective. Don’t count on them to define you or to change your life. You must be the force behind the change in your own life–not any moment, good or bad.

Happiness, sustained–contentment–is not made out of a collection of moments, no matter how dazzling those moments are. They are not the picture; they are the paint. You can have all the paint you want and you won’t necessarily have a beautiful picture. You could just as easily make a mess. Or you can have a tiny amount and still create a masterpiece.

Remember–this is the only way. Remember, remember, that every moment is its own blessing.

k.

PS – Nothing alarming is happening in my life to inspire this. It just really has been on my mind lately. Why are we so discontent when we have miraculous lives in this miraculous world?

May 20th, 2010

Dog show and “Avatar”… a somewhat disjointed post.

So, there’s exactly one week until the voice-over begins for this dog show. We’re on a very tight schedule, much tighter than we’ve been accustomed to (not counting the same show last year, which was similarly tight).

After doing 21 of these things, I had a pretty good rhythm down. This show, for some reason, is completely different. I’ve been working like mad, and filling in scripts where I can, and leaving them blank where I must (for the time being), and the result is that I feel like an accountant in a tornado.

No, seriously, I don’t really know which way is up right now. It actually makes it kind of interesting, which is a good thing, because to lose interest when there are 195 dogs to write about (in a typical show, we have about 120) would be very bad, indeed. This is the last dog show for me in the foreseeable future. I don’t know if the show will be back next year. I guess we’ll file that under “wait and see”.

The other night, the husb and I went and saw “Avatar” in the 3-D theatre. For a pair of film school grads, you’d think we’d see more movies than we do, which is to say, almost none. We’ve sort of made a commitment to try to hit at least the big awards nominees. We saw “Up” and “Role Models” the other night. Both were cute, though “Role Models” was quite raunchy and I hereby do not recommend it to anyone under 17. Over anyone over 17 who’s sensitive about stuff like that. See “Up” instead… very similar themes, actually.

So “Avatar” was pretty good, although the 3-D gave me a headache and waves of a vague nausea/general overall unhappiness. I kept taking off my glasses when I could and just watching the slightly blurry image. I wish I’d seen it in 2-D, because I was so distracted by trying to keep myself from feeling badly that I didn’t experience it as a whole movie.

One thing I’m going to say is, I know a lot of conservatives are up in arms about the way Hollywood portrays corporations. But it’s so weird to me, because (and I am not the least conservative person I know, we’ll put it that way) no matter where you fall on the political spectrum, a corrupt corporation is indeed a force of evil. They are the bad guy, whether you’re a donkey or an elephant. This should be something we can all agree on. Because bad corporations weren’t just good companies who grew up. They were good companies who started schmoozing and bribing and paying people off and paying fines instead of fixing problems, and mistreating their workforces, and so on and so forth. The evil corporation in “Avatar” has no regard for life. Why should we be upset about their portrayal as the bad guys?

Anyhoo. Just my two cents.

Hope you’re all well!

k.

6 comments January 7th, 2010

A few words about negative reviews

Last week, Sharon at Sharon Loves Books and Cats featured an interesting post and discussion about book bloggers’ negative reviews. She asked whether people thought publishers had an obligation to send ARCs (paper-bound, pre-final review copies) to reviewers who post the bad as well as the good.

A few commenters pointed out what I believe to be true, which is that a negative review that explains itself well may not be a terrible thing for a book. The example given was if a reviewer disliked a book because she is disinclined to like first-person narratives. Readers who don’t have a problem with first-person will probably not be turned off by such a review. (Someone once pointed out that she didn’t like my book because she didn’t like romantic storylines. That certainly isn’t going to make most readers think, “Well, I’m not buying THIS book, then!”)

I commented–basically–that publicists are trying to make the best use of their, er, “petite” marketing budgets, and because of this, they’ll probably end up preferring the more positive review sites over those that consistently trash books.

In her original post, Sharon mentioned that a good negative review, in her opinion, includes constructive criticism. A few commenters replied that constructive criticism is unnecessary, because the book is done.

And I wanted to speak about that.

I’ve been extremely fortunate in that most of the reviews I’ve come across for Bad Girls Don’t Die are overwhelmingly positive (you can find excerpts and links under the “reviews” link at the top of the page). But there have been a handful that pointed out things they wished were different, or wanted clarification on, or felt didn’t fit. None of them was rude–to the contrary, they were all quite polite. If it seemed appropriate, I would email the reviewer with my clarification, or even a question asking them to clarify.

Because the thing is, you DO learn from negative reviews.

Writing is an art, not a science. When you write a book, you’re looking to reach out to readers and bring them into your little world for a few hours. Ideally, they lose themselves in the book (and love it to pieces).

With Bad Girls, I’m pleased as punch to report, that happened for a lot of people. It didn’t happen for everyone. But I can say, there wasn’t a single negative comment I didn’t grok on some level.

Did I agree with all of them? Nope! Not at all.

But did most of them make me think? You bet.

I’m not going to change the way I write because of a review. But when multiple reviewers said, “I loved the characters of Megan and Carter, and I wish I could have known more,” it got my attention. Because as a writer–especially as a thriller writer who didn’t set out to write thrillers–I am profoundly interested in the fragile balance between action and character development. And these reviews made me wonder how I can inch up the character development in books 2 and 3, without losing the momentum of the action (hint: it’s not easy).

That was the point that stayed with me–well, that and the mistake some eagle-eyed reviewer caught that made me LOL because I’d missed it. (But ha ha ha–I know another mistake that no one has caught yet, hardy hardy har.)

I can’t recall for you every point, but I can tell you that, as I read each review, I thought about the things I read. And I considered where the reviewer was coming from. And, considering the reviewer’s credibility (through thoughtful and well-presented reviews, well-expressed opinions. etc.), in many cases I thought to myself, “Well, she’s kind of right about that. Maybe I’ll approach it differently next time.”

There are lots of authors out there who don’t read their reviews–or don’t read the negative ones. I have to say, anything lower than three stars is off my radar. I’m no glutton for punishment.

And I don’t mean to invite a slew of highly-constructive reviews for the BGDD sequels. In fact, I’d prefer that you just write a nice review and email me your questions and thoughts privately. *wink*

But as a writer, I write for my readers. So I’d be a dummy if I passed up the chance to learn from them.

PS – There is one bit of criticism for the book that I have always wanted a chance to defend. So I’m going to do it here. But beware of spoilers!

PPS – My “reviews” page isn’t updated with the past couple months’ reviews… but I’ll get there soon, I promise! I have them all bookmarked and ready to excerpt.

PPPS – If you’ve written a nice review of BGDD, would you consider adding it to one or a couple of the major online bookselling sites? Just thought I’d ask, since we’re on the topic.

6 comments September 16th, 2009

It’s not you–(it’s not me, either)–it’s Facebook.

It’s no secret that authors are entrusted with (that’s a euphemism, by the way) a lot of their own marketing. Naturally, the best place to start is on the internet.

Now, I have always loved connecting with people online. I joined a wedding planning community before I was even engaged, and I’m still in touch with several of the women I met there.

I’ve been blogging for more than four years. My RSS feeds are my lifeline. I had a fling with MySpace, I’m currently crushing on Twitter.

I was a bit of a late adopter with Facebook, and it took me a long time to understand exactly what was going on. But I did appreciate the way it did what scores of failed reunion websites hadn’t done–it gave old classmates and past friends a place to get in touch. I still use it for that purpose, and to connect with my friends and family, but that’s basically all.

Facebook and I are far from BFF.

And here’s why.

(1) Change for the sake of change.
Almost everyone remembers back when Facebook underwent that big interface change. But almost no one, including myself, can tell you exactly what changed. I’m pretty used to the new style, although I do get tired of seeing my own little avatar everywhere I go.

The weird thing is that, though I couldn’t name the differences, I can tell you that I don’t feel like I get the same experience out of Facebook anymore. I don’t feel like I can navigate as well as I used to. And I definitely don’t feel like I’m getting the same type of information I used to get. Which brings us to…

(2) They finally created an outlet to connect us with people you want to catch up on, and 90% of the way we interact with those people is trivial, useless information.
I think it’s downright neato that I’m meeting up with people I recall fondly but haven’t spoken to in ten years. You know what’s less neato? Finding out that all they need in Mafia Wars is a gold watch, a bulletproof limo, a suitcase full of money, and a cannoli. Do I really need to know what people scored in Diamond Drop Bonanza?

I don’t even know what your spouse’s name is! I just thought it was neat to have a chance to check up on you after all these years. Listen, I am not even one of those people who complains if you post you just ate a tunafish sandwich for lunch. But that you were just named a Russian Spymaster Level 13? I don’t want to know. Even though Facebook wants to tell me.

(3) The dominance of third-party content is preventing innovation at the site level.
Take the idea of connecting with your relatives. Instead of building in a feature that allows you to tag your family members, Facebook features a third-party program called “We’re related!” that I finally gave up and deleted. It was constantly failing to recognize people I’d already confirmed as my relatives, AND I got invitations regularly inviting me to install it, when I was already running it. Instead, I created a friend list called “family” and I look there to see what my dozens of relatives are up to.

Features that could be well-integrated on a core level are being handled by substandard applications. Not to mention that instead of being able to check the “brother” checkmark next to my brother’s profile, I have to choose between “We’re related!”, “FamilyConnect”, and “Relative Drop Bonanza”. So if a third of my relatives choose each of those apps, we’re all destined to remain disconnected–which, correct me if I’m wrong, kind of defeats the purpose.

(4) Third-party content has become incredibly intrusive.
I see on my home page that Bob Doe has taken the “What flightless bird are you?” quiz. This piques my curiosity, so I decide to take it, too. Suddenly I’m forced to accept that this one quiz is free to access my data, my friends list, my friends’ data, and my immunization records, just so I can find out I’m an emu. Oh, but before I can find out I’m an emu, it’s strongly recommended that I suggest this quiz to ninety of my friends.

I’ve taken to ignoring all quizzes, all invitations, all application-related activity. If I do feel a burning need to know which day of the week I am, I take the quiz, then go to my application settings and delete the application immediately.

A few times, I’ve gone to delete an application and discovered, to my surprise and displeasure, that by clicking on some innocuous-looking update from a friend a few days earlier, I’ve added an app to my list. This is downright malware behavior!

We’ve all heard the horror stories of the people who saw their spouse’s picture used in an ad for singles on the prowl. Facebook claims that IT will never use your pictures for such purposes, but Facebook has turned into nothing more than the checkered blanket under the picnic. There’s a lot going on up there that the blanket isn’t controlling.

(5) But even though it’s incredibly intrusive, it’s poorly integrated into the structure of the site.
If I can add an app by clicking on it, why do I have to go to my control panel to remove it? And why does every individual quiz require its own app? Facebook has encouraged an incredible diversity of these applications, with the end result being that we’re all drowning in the toybox. Why not categorize all quiz apps together? I assume they’re all screened at some level–so why not screen them and dump them into a bin?

(6) Facebook no longer feels like a destination.
When I was still using MySpace, I had lots of friends recommend that I go to Facebook. It’s so much prettier, they told me. It’s so much more uniform.

At first, I found it boring. Then, I was relieved that I wasn’t being forced to try to read hot-pink writing on a violet background. Then, I settled in and found that, indeed, the simplicity and uniformity of the interface made it easier to pay attention to content. Substance over style, if you will.

But what’s left of the substance of Facebook? It’s gone from being a simple place to connect with friends to being a pig in a patchwork prom dress. Woe betide those who just wanted to hang out with a pig for a while.

Some say the changes to Facebook earlier this year were done with the intent of making it more like Twitter. But the problem is, you can’t have your cake and eat it, too. No matter how fancy it gets (not very), Twitter boils down to 140-character updates between people who have decided to follow each other.

Twitter is what it is. But Facebook is no longer what it was designed to be.

In conclusion…
The reason I decided to write this post is that I don’t want people to feel like I don’t want to be their friend because I’m not accessible on Facebook. The interesting thing is, the YA book blogging community has largely steered clear of Facebook in favor of Twitter, and I think it’s because Twitter offers the clean, simple, easy interaction that Facebook once did but no longer does.

The simple fact of the matter is, I’ve locked down my Facebook account. For the time being, it’s the best way to share photos and info with my friends and family, so I’m keeping my account. But I’ve turned off friend requests.

But as far as using it as a marketing tool? I cringe when I see authors jump headfirst into Facebook–first, because I have a sinking feeling they’re going to friend me, and second, because I think it’s a lot of wasted effort. The only thing I can think to do is to have a Bad Girls Don’t Die fan page, which to be honest doesn’t see a lot of excitement these days (although I do post updates there whenever something newsworthy happens).

I mean, maybe I’m out of touch, but I think there are plenty of things fans and readers don’t particularly care to know about authors. And they probably have some things they don’t want me accessing, either.

Instead, you can find me here on the blog, you can learn about me through my various info pages, and you can contact me through the contact link in the header. If you want to know what I think about rude drivers and what I’m planning to eat for dinner, follow me on Twitter.

As the web continues to evolve, social networking is going to evolve, too. It’s a shame that something as powerful and useful as Facebook has taken so many missteps and has ended up walking off, in my opinion, into the dusty hills.

6 comments September 6th, 2009

Omissions and misinformation, a little Thursday rant

This morning on the Today Show, they aired a segment about how identity thieves are using people’s file sharing programs to steal their personal information.

Now, I’m not going to go into whether file sharing is amoral or immoral or whatever the ethics behind it are. But the simple fact is that much of it is very illegal. In fact, the song they used as an example was a Beyonce song.

I just sat there marveling as the news report claimed that, “These file sharing programs can have a dark side.” You think? How about the dark side of illegal file sharing?

I was also quite boggled by a quote from a man whose daughter’s file sharing had led to their tax returns being stolen and sold on the international market. He said something like, “I never thought someone could use these programs to commit a crime.”

Seriously, dude?

I’m floored by the massive viewpoint that was left out of this news story. It’s kind of like if they did a story about people who pick the pockets of car thieves while they’re bent over hot-wiring a car.

Look, I don’t care if you file share or don’t. As an author, I have to hope in the name of my own livelihood that somebody doesn’t find a way to share my book online for free.

But the lazy reporting has GOT to GO!

Similarly, this week’s episode of “The Biggest Loser” (which I love) featured a quiz about health and nutrition. The first question was:

“True or false: Switching from regular soda to diet soda will extend your lifespan?”

The contestants answered “false,” and the woman from Prevention magazine said, “Yes! It’s false! Studies show that both diet and regular sodas can lead to metabolic syndrome!”

So how do you get from, “studies show that diet soda can lead to metabolic syndrome” to “diet sodas will NOT extend your lifespan”?

Yes, studies have shown that diet sodas are not always effective because their sweetness can cause people to crave sweets, in which they then indulge, which causes them to gain weight that may contribute to metabolic syndrome.

But that is CORRELATION, my friends, not CAUSALITY. And the absolute “false” renders this ridiculous. I promise you that there are some people out there who switched from regular soda to diet soda and did not get metabolic syndrome, and (gasp!) extended their lifespans.

They didn’t mention how much diet soda vs. how much regular soda. They didn’t mention the health of the person in question. They didn’t put it in context of studies or specific situations.

They just made an ignorant, unsupportable blanket statement and passed it off as a fact.

Bah!

8 comments February 26th, 2009

Oscar films, I hardly knew ye…

Back in film school, we used to see every movie that played at the local megaplex. We saw good movies, bad movies, movies that should never have been made. Part of the reason for this was that it only cost $3.75 and there wasn’t much else to do. We were also encouraged by the film school faculty to see as many movies as we could (I’m sure they were hoping some of them weren’t Speed 2: Cruise Control, but blah blah the letter of the law).

When Academy Award time rolled around, we had spirited, educated discussions. Typically I’d seen about four out of five nominees in all of the major categories, not counting documentaries and short film and all of the ones we had less than zero access to.

How times have changed! The Oscars are on tonight and the only nominated film I’ve seen is “Wall-E” (which was great, by the way). I used to get such a thrill from the red carpet, the glitz and the glamor. Now I watch it and I find myself thinking, “These aren’t movie stars! Bring back the movie stars!” I don’t care what Ashton Kutcher is wearing. I don’t care what the starlet of the week is wearing. I want Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan, Michelle Pfeiffer.

I’m sure if I’d seen more of the films, I wouldn’t feel so disconnected. But the films that are out now are hardly tempting. Am I wrong, or for the past few years has “misery and suffering” been a major theme in the contender movies?

Why can’t someone make an excellent film that makes you feel (gasp!) better about yourself and your life? Why can’t there be a list of nominees that wouldn’t make me squirm and cringe and want to cover my eyes?

Well, until then… at least there will always be the horrible gowns to ridicule and the awkward speeches to laugh at, and the orchestra to yell at when they cut off the poor people whose partners made super-long speeches (they should give that guy :10, no matter how long the other guy took–I wonder how many lifelong partnerships have been soured by microphone hogging at the Oscars?).

So, that’s what I’ll be doing tonight… in the tradition of my youth. And I’ll be wishing the whole time that Hollywood would get back to its traditions.

9 comments February 22nd, 2009

These are the good times.

As the holidays unfold, may I?

May I remind you that if you can wake up, sit up, get out of bed, walk to the kitchen, look out the window, see the rain or sun or clouds…

If you can take a shower, brush your teeth, put in your contacts, wrestle with a bad hair day, stub your toe and hop around the room…

If you can look through your closet, find something to wear, put it on, find it’s a little too tight, take it off, put something else on…

If you can grab a drink of water and a quick bite to eat, pop a multivitamin, feed your pets, feed your children, hug a person or animal you love and walk yourself out the door…

If you can get in your car, get stuck in traffic on the way to work, stew at your desk because you couldn’t find a parking spot, swear at the copier, laugh over the water cooler, say hi to the mailman…

If you can walk down the street, speak your mind, worship (or not) as you choose, read angry blogs, hold a picket sign, buy whatever book you like, go home to food on your table and clothes on your back and a roof over your head…

These are the good times. These are better times than are had by most of the world on any given day.

We all have days that suck. We all have moments that punch us in the metaphorical gut. We all have troubles. We all get weary. We all want to lighten our loads.

But these are the good times.

Please count your blessings this week.

I know I am counting mine.

God bless,
k.

16 comments December 22nd, 2008

The saner side of Britney…

Sunday night, MTV premiered “Britney: For the Record,” a fairly no-frills documentary about Britney Spears. It features several plain-talk, intimately-set interviews with her at a hotel, and follows her through 60 days of her life, culminating in her surprise appearance at Madonna’s Los Angeles concert, which I remember well because it was part of a series of things that royally screwed up my commute. (Thanks a lot, Madge!)

In general, I don’t feel very strongly about Brit one way or the other, except that she and Paris and all those girls have kind of horrified me with their antics in the past. I have compassion for her the way you have compassion for the monkeys at the zoo who would obviously rather be riding the merry-go-round and jovially flinging their poop at each other than begging you to swing the peanut cup at them.

The documentary was interesting. In a lot of ways, it felt like a slow exhale. There are funny bits, uncomfortable bits, and touching bits (such as when Britney breaks into tears and says simply, “I’m sad”). You get a very clear sense of how literally trapped she is, for all her money and fame. She can’t leave her house without being followed by fifty (five-zero) carsful of paparazzi. She gets out of her car to cross a sidewalk, only to be forced back inside by the crushing mob of photographers, many of whom literally don’t care whether they hurt or scare her, as long as they get “the shot.” There’s a great moment where (a terrifyingly Botoxed) Madonna talks to the camera about how her experience and Britney’s are similar, and how they’re different.

Yes, Britney carved her own canoe, but as she points out, she was young. It was fun, at first. And now she’s paying the price, although she refuses to see herself as a victim.

So anyway, regardless of how you feel about Britney, if you happen to catch this documentary, give it a chance. It doesn’t ask you to like her music or her performance style.

Ultimately, what it does is humanize a girl who’s been largely dehumanized.

And in this day and age, where we package bright, ambitious young women as commodities, encourage them to sell their souls and bodies, and then throw stones and insults at them, every bit of reclaimed humanity counts as progress.

11 comments December 3rd, 2008

Taking the blinders off.

I think this post of J.P. Kurzitza’s is really worth checking out. And it can apply to a lot of things in life besides just writing!

But especially writing. The temptation, for writers, is to push through, because we like to think a book is somehow bigger than ourselves. A few months ago when I was working feverishly on the first draft of Project X, I would spend mornings, nights, and weekends locked to the computer. At the time, I felt entirely justified in abandoning my workouts, my healthy eatings, my husband, and my social life.

But when the draft is done, you realize… I could have taken a little more time and shared a little of that energy with other things in my life. And then I might not have stressed out my husband and gained five pounds and ended up missing my friends.

Writing is important to a writer–it has to be. But without a little bit of a life, what are you going to write about? And how are you going to write it authentically?

Spouses, parents, significant others, children, friends–these are the people whose minute behaviors we end up, er, “borrowing” and writing into our books. So don’t those people deserve a little bit of our time and attention?

6 comments October 30th, 2008

Disturbing new trend alert! You heard it here first!

I don?t know if this is as prevalent across the rest of the world as it currently is in the USA, but lately I?ve noticed a trend in a lot of advertisements.

I call it ?a-hole chic.? (Well, when I?m not blogging in front of a potentially PG-rated audience, I use the whole word. But the abbreviated version gets the point across, right?)

At some point, it became desirable and even ?cool? to have commercials where the people are just jerks. There are dozens of ads where the deliberately slobby roommate or treasonously unsympathetic spouse somehow one-ups an innocent victim and comes out on top.

There?s a pretty bad campaign out for Glade scented products, featuring the products? ability to turn any normal person into a pathological liar. The lady who tells her yoga friends she found some miraculous odor-emitting substance, and then the one friend sees the plug-in and calls her out on it. The lady in the tub who lies and tells her friend she?s at a spa??

(First of all, why are you answering your cell phone in the tub? Let?s just lay this on the table right now, I would rather not talk to you on the phone when you are in the process of bathing yourself.)

But the worst offender by a mile has to be the new Cadillac campaign, where the painfully detached woman drives at what must be unsafe speeds down a tunnel in her Cadillac, and talks in her best ?meanest girl in 7th grade? voice about the car.

Or the one that I?ve seen approximately 422 times this week, with the guy driving the Cadillac hybrid.

He drones on like the antagonist in a Disney film, criticizing the current crop of hybrids for their lack of features like an eight-inch DVD player and a cow-pusher and a king-size waterbed, or whatever ridiculous things people are demanding in their cars these days, and then he says they should make a hybrid of the car he?s driving, which has not only all those features but also allows you to rob old ladies and shoot homeless people with a built-in pellet gun.

Then he looks at the camera and says, ?Whoops. Did I give away the secret?? or something, in the most irritatingly snide tone, like he?s way better than you and he?s actually kind of annoyed that a paeon like you even gets to watch his commercial.

What they aren?t telling you is that between shooting commercials, he?s the second assistant manager at Denny?s?not that there?s anything wrong with an honest day?s work?and the way he?s able to conjure up such a snotty tone is that he?s pretending he?s working the Daytona Denny?s in the middle of spring break season.

So here?s the real problem. I know a couple of nice people who drive Cadillacs. But they?re soon going to be way outnumbered by the people who saw these commercials and decided that they aspired to be just like the a-hole (man or woman) in the commercial. And before you know it, 99% of the Caddys on the road will be driven by junior titleholders in the a-hole chic pageant.

Which leads me to my two personal snide remarks, which are questions for the people who can relate to the mean lady and dude:

(1) What kind of maniac buys a hybrid car that gets 12 mpg?
(2) If you?re dying for a car with an 8-inch DVD player, you have at least one kid, and also that you are incapable of entertaining said kid by yourself. So not only are you raising a snotty child who will drive you to distraction once s/he becomes a teenager (kids are sponges!), but clearly you are not the most interesting human being on the planet, and no amount of talking down your nose at the rest of us is going to make you any less of a flaming bore.

So there.

5 comments October 8th, 2008