8 1/2 weeks

 Not long ago, I posted about my month as a full-time Mom. Since then, I have started a job 2,500 miles away. And I started it 2 1/2 months before the rest of my family will join me. Now, I'll admit I didn't really think about it beforehand but I have honestly never, ever lived totally alone in my life. I've always had roommates. In more recent years, I upped the ante to include an XY, two kids, two dogs, a tankful of fish and a corn snake. (We did have a guinea pig but she has since found a new home. Really, another home, not at a "ranch" or anything.) So for me, chaos is the norm. But lately, it's been just me and uh...me.

Hello, Friend

Crickets. 

I have a great little place. A cottage behind a house attached to a garage. Kind of a glorified efficiency. Just the right size and very nice. But perhaps the most important feature of this cozy place is the remote control gas wood stove. Yep. Remote control. I walk in the door and turn it on when I get home from work. The flame that flickered on demand quickly became my beloved companion. A warm friend who's always ready to welcome me home at the end of the day. I also developed a much closer relationship with the tv. I've never been a huge tv watcher, but I will admit: The Voice can get kind of addictive.

My kitchen looks different, too. French bread. Red wine. Imported salami. Truffled sea salt. Arugula-at-the-ready.

But the biggest thing I've noticed about living alone is how little one XX (at least this XX) effects the environment. When I get home at night, MY HOUSE IS EXACTLY LIKE I LEFT IT. Not a dish in the sink. Not a thing out of place. Not a noise to be heard (until I turn on the tv.)  No spills or stains to be discovered. No piles of dirty clothes to trip over. No "mysteriously" un-flushed toilets. No toothpaste drips in the sink. Who knew? I'm a neat freak.

Dinner of Champions and one XX

Sometimes I'll go for a long walk at twilight (love that flashlight APP, btw) or early in the morning. I can go to bed whenever I want. Or I'll just lay in bed and watch the wood stove flicker in the next room for an hour or two. Once, I had imported dark chocolate and red wine for dinner. Delicious.

Yes, I have done it. I have lived alone. I have survived for 8 1/2 weeks on one roll of paper towels, one bar of soap and a dozen eggs. I survived the realization that I was talking out loud to myself as I watched tv. (Was it The Voice or Law & Order? I can't remember. Oh come on, I can't believe you can't remember...) I survived when there was nothing to clean, no dog to let outside, and no one complaining or bickering or fighting.

My time alone is quickly coming to an end.  In a few short weeks, I'll fly back East to road trip across the country once again with my XY and two kids. This time, we'll add two dogs and a snake to the car.

I hope he doesn't get car sick

Let the chaos begin.

Hot Mommas

Yeah, don't get your homes up. This is an XX blog, not an XXX blog. I'm here to talk about the hottest thing going right now: Mom. That's right, the love, honor, respect (and buying and selling power) of Mom.

Being a Mom myself, I am glad to see that gone are the days of romancing "my Mom is the reason I'm the mess I am today" in film, literature and my personal favorite, advertising. Moms had it bad there for years. Decades, I'd say. One minute, Moms are June Cleaver baking cookies in pearls. The next? We're villainesses who destroy lives and force our grown children to finance their therapists' weekend homes in the Hamptons. Maybe only one other group has been as pigeonholed as the controlling, life-wrecking Mom: the generic 25-40-year-old, possibly-slightly balding, usually Caucasian XY. He's been the politically correct butt of jokes since before Reagan was in office.

"Momma made me do it."

But now it's 2012. The world is enlightened. Somebody, somewhere realized that in most cases ( I know unfortunately not all), Moms are a positive influence. PEOPLE LIKE THEIR MOMS. Heck, sometimes they even love them. Maybe even more important, someone realized that Moms are the ones who buy stuff. So it might not be a bad idea to make them feel good about themselves. Give them credit for trying, not blame for failing. And I for one, like it.

With Mother's Day just a few weeks away, the Momvertising is out there in full force. Hallmark always tugs at the heart and this year is no exception with their latest  in the "Tell Me" series "Tell Mom". Of course, the idea is, tell Mom what she is doing right. Casting is imperfect and therefore noticeable.  Sentiments were fragile and heartfelt. Advertising cynic though I may be, I turned to my almost teenager and started quoting lines back from the spot, complete meaningful looks.

But Hallmark and Mother's Day are just the tip of the Momvertising iceberg. Kudos to P&G (Cannes's advertiser of the year in 2008 and loaded with Lions for years) for their "Proud Sponsor of Mom" positioning. Those smart people who realized that Moms are buying everything and we should be nice? That was Proctor. Sure, you'd expect it from Pampers (they're actually breaking ground with XY's for this brand these days.) But recently, someone sent me a link to an Oil of Olay site, no doubt the latest from their "Generations" campaign. Check it at: Facebook: Oil of Olay  "My Mom shows me Beauty by Example" not only upholds the strength of Mom, but this Facebook page encourages you to talk about the good things you got from Mom. How often do you hear XX's do that?  It's a Facebook page actually worth visiting.

Thanks, Proctor & Gamble

But for me, the pinnacle of P&G's positioning revealed itself in the 2010 Winter Olympics.  Here's a taste: P&G: They'll always be kids.Of course, the cynic in me saw the ending of these spots a mile away. And you know what? I didn't care. Call me pre-menopausal (but not to my face), these spots moved me. And they threw the stake in the ground that nobody's for Moms like Proctor. (Unnamed car company recently hijacked this idea with a dad and daughter, but P&G got there first and more powerfully.)  With the London Olympics coming, how will P&G top 2010?

Sniff, here's a great start. London 2012 P&G commercial Yes, Moms are going to be hot this summer. You heard it here first.

The Great American Road Trip (with apologies to Canada, Mexico, Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Columbia, Ecuador, Guyana, Paraguay, Peru, Suriname, Uruguay, Venezuela, Belize, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua and Panama)

You too can do Mt. Rushmore in 17 minutes

I know, there are many Great American Road Trips. For example, there's Che Guevra's epic, life-changing SOUTH American road trip (no political statement here) made famous in the U.S. by the book and then 2004 film, The Motorcycle Diaries. In fact today, Bolivian travel companies romance ( in English) the "Ruta de Che" in your choice of a 4-day/3-night or 6-day/5-night packages, continental breakfast included, no doubt. (Now at this point I probably need to let my XY know that no, this doesn't mean I want to tour South America on the back of his motorcycle, sorry. Maybe in a car.)

But I digress. I'm talking the United States of America here. And short of the much-hummed Route 66 that winds from Chicago to L.A., I recently took what is surely the Greatest American Road Trip of All Time. I'm talkin' Interstate 90, 8 states, 2,500 miles, 6 days, five people and an overpacked Toyota Camry. It was a trip of necessity, to take my car, me, and whatever I could fit in the trunk to Seattle to start my new job. And it fell over spring break.

Until this year, our spring breaks were spent at a tropical beach or a mountain or a Disney facility.

What do you think they talk about?

Badlands, South Dakota

But this year, we traded Mickey Mouse for Best Western. And it pretty much rocked. We passed up  the Corn Palace but stopped at Wall Drug. We wandered the Badlands and made it to Mt. Rushmore minutes before it closed. We hiked around Devil's Tower and outran storms in windy western Wyoming. Yes, we saw all of the expected places. But  I was also impressed with beauty in unexpected places. (Like the spectacular border between Wisconsin and Minnesota.) I jumped a fence to avoid a frightened, charging bison on the streets of Gardiner, Montana during a morning run. I marveled at the foreign XX bathrooms in Montana and Idaho that offered side-by-side seating, no stall required. (It gave a whole new meaning to the cliche of girls going to the bathroom in pairs.) I heard the whoops of joy from preteens who, even after five years, couldn't wait to eat at Taco Time after seeing the first sign just east of the Cascades. But perhaps most important, my XY and I discovered the secret of somewhat-less-painful-family road travel. Call me a Beta Mom if you must but when you're driving 500-700 miles a day, and everyone, even the driver, is holding a backpack at their feet, it's no time to inflict your ideal of cherubic faces silently watching beautiful scenery and playing quiet road sign games. Give into the Kindle, the iPad, and most important, the motel with the overly-chlorinated indoor pool. Did I mention the importance of the motel with indoor pool?

Bison can really move when they want to. So can I.

It was epic, our road trip. And a gift to spend so much up-close time with my loved ones that putting them on a plane was a relief, for almost 12 minutes.

Of course, they're coming out in June. So, we're preparing for the Great American Road Trip Part Two. We'll skip Mt. Rushmore and head to Crazy Horse. We'll see Old Faithful, which was closed for the winter in March. Heck, maybe we'll even stop at the Corn Palace. And because my XY and I are always trying to up the degree of difficulty, this time we'll be doing it with two dogs and a pet snake. Stay tuned...

9-ish hours in Berlin

I recently found myself with a "free day" while working in Germany. It was my last project for my former agency. (More on my next adventure in the future). But, it was definitely a project and trip that meant closing a major chapter in my work life. I flirted with flying home early to start the next chapter post haste, but the ticket change was twice as expensive as the hotel bill. My next chapter could wait a day.

An XY I had been working with suggested Berlin.

Berlin. Sexy. Different. Full of art and architecture and history and cool bars and late nights. Well, I had a day so the second half was out. But a day in Berlin started to sound pretty sweet.

I checked with friends who had been there for fun or business and the rave reviews kept coming. But I only had a day. Less than a day really. A two-hour high-speed train ride there and back combined with a freakishly early flight out the next morning, made every second precious.

Suggestions, great suggestions came from everywhere. My former boss and friend. A producer I'll miss working with. A co-worker who actually lives in Berlin and works in Hamburg.  He and an acquaintance with the exact opposite situation arranged a symbiotic "house swap" during the week. Smart.

Okay, let's start with the "must do" list: East Side Gallery, shopping around Hackescher Market/Rosenthaler Str, Topography of Terror ("it's not what you think," I was assured), the bust of Nefertiti at the Neues Museum, the Reichstag (Parliament), a walking tour, a brunch place called Entweder Oder, The Tacheless, Mustafa's food car, climb the Kreuzberg, Curry 36.....

That's a lot of must-dos. I went to the front desk of the hotel and after the first woman vaguely pointed to the lobby computer when I asked for help, I was saved by her colleague who offered to help me book the train ticket. She helped me read the time table, the special pricing, and printed it out for me. Love her. Emboldened by that, I decided to plan the day around my train schedule. I booked a ticket to the Neues entirely in German. I tried (and failed) to get a time pass for the Reichstag. On recommendation ("I know it sounds stupid but it's really great," I think were my old producer's words) I booked a free walking tour. In English.

All I had to do was get from the train station to the Brandenburg Gate. I could do that. Yeah, a three-year-old could do it. It was a sneeze of a walk across a bridge and past the Reichstag. I was immediately struck by the architecture. The old and the new together. This city doesn't ignore its past, it respects it. Honors it. Creates memorials lest we are tempted to repeat our mistakes.

The tour was worth every penny. (Just kidding, the guides work for tips. He was a bit of a tourist hater but he hid it well. And he knew his stuff. Yes, I tipped him well.)

Memorial to the
Murdered Jews of Europe 

He took us through Brandenburg gate, showed us the famous "Michael Jackson" baby dangle hotel (still can't look at that photo), pointed out the little cobbles in the road that are your indicator of a Wall that once sliced through this city. He pointed to the Reichstag and told of the rise of Nazism and the irony of "Dem Deutschen Volke" (To the German People) inscribed on a building repurposed for a dictator.
All fascinating and amazing.

But in a day filled with life changing moments, I was unexpectedly faced with the first. We walked through the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. I couldn't keep from crying and as it was a rainy day, the monuments were crying, too. 

Harrison Ford Doppelgänger?

From there a deep breath. We moved on to many other sites: my first glimpse of the Wall ( I saw Topography of Terror only on the outside, but again another amazing architectural structure), 1980's communist luxury housing, Checkpoint Charlie, the office building that provided the set for Valkyrie (I never saw it but I was intrigued by another Hollywood lookalike on a mural there. Does this guy look like a young Harrison Ford or what?)

There were churches of all sorts: for the French, for the German, for a variety of religions. My guide pointed to the bank from "Run Lola Run." All along, there were  history lessons. Then, our first view through the fog of the Fernsehturm, the famous television tower build by the DDR in the sixties to claim its place as the "symbol of Berlin."

Amazing architecture at the
Deutsches Historisches Museum

The funny thing about Berlin is, you can be standing in the middle of a great (or horrible) place in history and it's an innocent plaza, or a nondescript parking lot. But as I was standing, robotically snapping church photos, my guide asked us to look at the plaza we were standing on. It was the site of the famous Book Burning. The memorial is underground and is viewed from above. Thousands of empty book shelves representing the books lost that day. More history, more heart-wrenching memorials, more amazing architecture, and then I was on my own with five hours to go.

I visited the Neues Museum (could have spent hours there, gave myself just under an hour.) The bust of Nefertiti, which I remember from my art history book in college, is exquisite. No photo can do her justice.  Then, under the advice of my tour guide who vaguely pointed behind him, I set out to take the public transport to the East Side Gallery. Just under four hours to go.

My free guide told us the sad story of
this 19-year-old earlier in the day.

Forty-five minutes later (and after a major iPhone directions failure), I hopped in a cab and went to the East Side Gallery. Best eight euros I ever spent. I walked the entire length, captivated by the stories, the art, the pain, the happiness, the different voices and subject matter. It was all there right in front of me. A new beginning. A new start. A new chance. A brave new step. Thousands of XX's and XY's made a choice to fight for a better life. Over the years, many paid with their lives. It was humbling. It was inspiring. It was life changing. 

Thank you, Berlin. I'll be back.

. 

Girls and (cringe) farts

Let’s start with the title. Cringe is the operative word. I’d bet at least one out of three XX’s cringe at the word “fart.” Maybe more like two out of three. Maybe some of you are even thinking, “Oh XX, do you have to talk about THIS?”

Illustration: Nok Sangdee

That’s because girls don’t do that.  Or do we…?

I’m on a plane, sitting across from an XY watching Bridesmaids on his computer. He is laughing in all of the right places. If you have read previous posts, you already know I’m a Bridesmaids fan. So as I surreptitiously watch him watch the bridal party churrascaria lunch and aftermath, it got me wondering: how different would those scenes be with guys?

Let’s try it.

OPEN ON A BUNCH OF GUYS EATING AT A SKETCHY CHURRASCARIA AND DISUSSING A BACHELOR PARTY.

GUY 1: “Meat!”

GUY 2: “Meat!”

GUY 3: “More meat!”

ALL:     “Yeah!”

ONE GUY DOESN’T WANT TO EAT THE MEAT. THE OTHERS AGREE TO LET HIM OFF THE HOOK IF HE DOES FOUR TEQUILA SHOTS.  ALL GUYS JOIN IN AND DO TEQUILA SHOTS WITH HIM. WHEN GUY ONE GOES TO THE BATHROOM, THE REST DISCUSS THE THEME FOR THE BACHELOR PARTY.

GUY 2:  “Vegas?”

ALL:      “ Vegas!”

Next stop: Vegas

CUT TO THE SAME GUYS IN FRONT OF A MEN’S  WEARHOUSE. THE DOOR IS LOCKED. ONE GUY FARTS. THE OTHERS LAUGH. THEY GIVE UP IN LESS THAN 30 SECONDS AND GO BACK TO THE CHURRASCARIA BAR. ALL ARE FARTING AND BELCHING ALONG THE WAY.

CUT BACK TO SKETCHY CHURRASCARIA. THE GUYS HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE WEDDING FASHIONS AND DRINK MORE. THEY HAVE A BELCHING CONTEST AND THEN A FARTING CONTEST. OTHER PATRONS LEAVE THE BAR AREA. SUDDENLY ONE GUY LOSES IT IN HIS PANTS. THEY ALL LAUGH. ANOTHER GUY BARELY MAKES IT TO A TRASH CAN. THE GUY WHO DIDN’T EAT THE MEAT HAS PASSED OUT ON THE BAR. THE WAITER SHAKES HIS HEAD SADLY AND WALKS AWAY.

It could probably be funny in an I hope they serve beer in Hell kind of way. (More to come on that excellent peek into one twisted XY’s world in the future.) But in contrast (to me) it’s the embarrassment/mortification factor that sends the Bridesmaids version into Hollywood classic land.  Of course I’m sure someone could make the XY version lot funnier but my point is, there’s a different code in place.  In Bridesmaids, I thought the most horrifying moment was when one bridesmaid projectile vomited on the back of another bridesmaids’ head as the latter heaved helplessly into the toilet. Imagine someone else’s vomit in your hair. I can. That’s viscerally XX in my humble opinion. But the sink is truly epic. Why? I think in large part it’s the dialogue. Rita: “No Megan, No!”  Megan: “Look away, just look away” totally nails the XX fear of another XX seeing her Make Stinky.  Add the fact that she is forced to use an inappropriate toilet substitute and the scene becomes a perfect 11.

All hail the mighty This is Spinal Tap reference

 It’s an unspeakable horror surpassed only if an (attractive) XY had been in the room to witness as well. Or maybe not. The scene is flawless and will go down in history, mark my words.

Yes, XX’s fart. Pass gas. Break wind. (Insert other lower gastric descriptor noise of choice here.)  But have no doubt: we’ll spend every waking moment trying to convince you that we don’t.  It’s what we do.

Or rather, don’t do.

Genetic secrets revealed!

NOTE: There's a lot of buzz these days about the mapping of the human genome. The pros and cons of this information, the potential to flag disease markers and other possible outcomes are way too important to tackle in this blog. But you don't need a geneticist to know that some traits are usually, well, genetic. In fact even if you were blindfolded, odds are you could spot the XX or XY below.

XX or XY?

Photo: AlyssssIA ( yes that's really what it said)

Only your geneticist knows for sure. 

- The desire to acquire multiple pairs of athletic shoes.

- The desire to acquire multiple pairs of unwearable shoes.

- Keeping pictures of friends and family on your phone.

-  Keeping pictures of large steaks you have eaten on your phone.

-  A powerful, magnetic attraction to The Three Stooges, accompanied by beer.

 - A powerful, magnetic attraction to any movie that makes you cry, accompanied by wine.

-  Beavis and Butthead

- Sarah Jessica Parker

- The need to wait for others to leave a public bathroom before "going." (And the need to hurry if you hear someone sitting silently in the stall next to you.)

Photo: Marco Dimas

- The need to carry on an uninterrupted conversation, complete with sound effects, while "going."

- Belching loudly (at any age.)

- Belching loudly (during the "college years.")

- The intuitive ability to operate any electronic device anywhere, at any time, at any age.

- The intuitive ability to know what "semi-formal dress" means anywhere, at any time, at any age.

- The toilet seat is a big deal.

- What's the big deal about the toilet seat?

Of course, every rule has the exception. That's what makes us interesting. For example this XX was openly horrified years ago at the movie "A Walk in the Clouds" along with my XY companions, while the other XX in our group bravely admitted enjoying it. I really can't weigh in on "The English Patient" because I slept through it. Five times. (A fact I was quite concerned about until Elaine redeemed me on Seinfeld by hating it.) Yes, I laughed (at parts) of Jackass. Like the dreaded hardware store scene. (Nervous laughter? Maybe.)

I know guys who can dress better than me (don't trip over that bar) and women who own band saws. We're all different. And that's a good thing.

Breasts, butts and the bottom line.

 Okay, you know I had to go here at some point, so why not now? Love it or hate it, sex has a place in advertising. Always has, always will.  Because sex sells. And lest we forget: advertising is only the world’s SECOND oldest profession.

Now you may be surprised (or not if you know me well) that this isn’t going to be a Victorian-inspired rant about objectification. Rather, I’d like to take a step back and look at how (in my humble opinion) sexual attraction from XX’s (and XY's) works – and doesn’t work – around the world.

I remember hearing a creative director speak once about working in Europe after spending the bulk of his career in the U.S. Basically his observation was that the rest of the world accepts and enjoys sex in advertising and popular culture the way the U.S. embraces violence.  That was years ago and I have never forgotten it.

Cut to several years later and I found myself working on a global assignment with a group of excellent creatives from around the world. The core idea had a wide range of interpretation and the team quickly divided: if you were from South America or Europe, the interpretation was sexual. If you were from the U.S., the minds went straight to a street fight.  As the only XX in the group (and with the words of aforementioned creative director still burned in my brain) I may have been the only person in the room who could easily see the merit of either direction.

Over the years, I have developed a bit of a theory of my own about why I love certain campaigns that glorify sex but am incredibly offended by others. Here goes:

There’s a “giggle factor” in the U.S. about nudity and sexual attraction. A part of us that seems to be stuck somewhere between 12 and 14. (Hey isn’t that the same age as the onset of the video game love affair?) There’s a cultural phenomenon that makes a lot of Americans look twice at a girl on the beach with her bikini untied, even though she’s on her stomach. Like we’ve seen something we weren’t supposed to see.  A peep show.

Yes, she's topless. So is he.

Then there are places like Brazil, Spain, Argentina, France and of course, Greece, where the bikini tops are off. All the way off, and no one looks twice. (Unless of course you’re a tourist sneaking a shot on your phone.)  There’s a comfort with the human body in general, and sex is less of a taboo than, uh, a fact of life.

Maybe that’s why work outside of the U.S. tends to win my heart in this arena. Work that should have me wringing my XX hands at the “objectification of women” has me laughing out loud, smiling knowingly or thinking “I wish I did that.” Take for example the much-used example of the Axe effect (or Lynx effect, depending on where you’re from.) It resonates I believe in large part because it’s based on a simple truth, well told: animal attraction. No one is uptight or giggly, they are simply behaving as mammals are expected to behave. Bonus of this campaign:  no more guessing for moms around the world. Now we instantly know when our son develops and interest in girls. Just look for Axe in the shower.  Please note that I believe good taste is everyone’s responsibility. Ads that exploit or shock aren’t using sexual attraction to sell, they are using objectification as power. That’s a different, horrible beast, and perhaps the subject of a future story but not today. So know that I in no way condone or support that crap.

Of course, I am now going to completely switch my theory for a special hats off to W&K in the U.S. for Old Spice: Not only is it brilliantly-written, well-cast and strategically differentiating, it’s the the second epic campaign in a category. A campaign that has, at least in the U.S., overshadowed its predecessor.

Photo: Kevin-Peter Hubb

But Old Spice is the exception.  Peep show, ditzy girls, and Three Stooges with cleavage win the day more often than not in the U.S. That’s the stuff that rubs me the wrong way, not the fact that “I’m not the target.” (Remember, this is the XX who loved the women using a pipe in their shower as a stripper pole.)

Maybe that’s the difference. Whether you’re selling cologne, underwear or French fries, ideas that are comfortable with the fact that they are using sex to sell tend to stand the test of time. And that tells me this work is doing what it was designed to do: sell.

What’s your animal doppelgänger?

 It’s an eat or be eaten world. Survival of the fittest is the name of the game, after all.  Wait, am I talking about the animal kingdom or advertising? The answer is yes. In fact, there are so many parallels between these two wild worlds that I decided to take a look at some of the animal doppelgängers I have encountered over the years. XX or XY, see if you recognize anyone (including yourself) below:

I was never here...

The Chameleon: The ability to blend into one’s surroundings is a powerful survival technique. Sit still at all costs and maybe no one will notice you’re there at all.

The Honey Badger: Honey Badgers are hot right now (thanks YouTube) and for good reason: they’ll take anything from anyone at any time in a most tenacious and vicious way. And why not? “Honey Badger don’t care” because Honey Badgers never seem to get caught or hurt by anything. 

Please help us help them.

The Baby Seal: Harmless and helpless, these critters need the protection of others in order to survive. 

The Lion: King of the Savannah. Respect him and he will take care of you. Unless he gets hungry…

The Mandrill: What a colorful rear end.

The Praying Mantis: She’s for sure gonna eat you. Or at least try. So be careful.

The Sloth: How can something that slow-moving get by in the world? Well, much to everyone's surprise (maybe even the sloth's?) they do more than get by. They thrive.

 

Mmm, Twinkie.

The Cockroach: Others may see the cockroach as a disgusting, annoying pest, but do you think that’s how a cockroach sees itself? Of course not. Besides, the cockroach will be laughing it up and eating Twinkies long after we’ve gone the way of the Dodo.

Deer/Gazelle/Antelope/Etc:  The backbone of any ecosystem: indoors or out. These hard-working gentle souls just mind their own business and do what needs to be done: which is occasionally literally giving the skin off their own backs.

So the next time you’re on the elevator or in a status meeting, look around. Listen closely for a hiss or a growl. It's there, I promise.