Pepsi & Bob Dylan

A favorite from the Super Bowl...



(Ashley. I'm not going to start posting commercials again. So don't even start with me....)

Beyonce & Rifles

Just a little bit about Christmas before it's way too late...

So picture this: Christmas morning, sitting in the living room exchanging gifts. Ashley and I wow Dad and Judy with our exceptional ability to choose gifts that are "perfect" for them. Then it's time for the "kids" to open their gifts.

I'm always curious when Daddy says, "Now, you didn't ask for this but this is what I wanted to give you." A lot of things run through my mind—another car insurance policy, AAA, maybe some fix-a-flat?

But when I opened a box of ammunition. I thought, "Really?" It was actually a priceless moment between my sister and myself because we can nearly read each other's minds. And we all know that I cannot lie—every single thing I'm thinking comes right out through the expression on my face. Dad immediately said, "Well, I can tell Amy loves it." At that point, I considered reminding him of sugar, spice, and everything nice. But it was too late, he must have heard Miranda Lambert's song "Gunpowder and Lead."

The next box was a pistol. The next box was a rifle. Of course, I asked the obvious, "What am I going to do with a rifle in the city?" I'll just say, that I'm am the least likely person to be packing heat on my street. My neighbors have no idea what's really going on. I was pretty much sitting there thinking, "Crap. I don't want this responsibility."

So we spent the rest of the week shopping for targets and shooting guns, which actually turned out to be a lot more fun than we imagined. Maybe he'll get us a clay pigeon thrower next year?

To sum it up, we ended up with rifles, pistols, and hot pink John Deere gloves. And Daddy got the new Beyonce CD. The rest of the week we heard Daddy walking through the house singing, "If you like it then you should have put a ring on it."

I love life.

The Addys & Those Funny Guys at Google

Oh, Addy Awards, you kill me with your complicated categories and difficult directions. Even those of us who work in marketing and advertising are bewitched by your verbiage.

Last Friday, my marketing friends and I had to round up our entries for the Addy Awards. It was complicated, to say the least, and left me questioning my own knowledge of the work I'd done—is this a self promotion piece, a sales kit, a direct marketing piece?

I love the look people get in their eyes when they're really confused and they're really nervous. It really is the only thing that keeps you from reaching out and strangling somebody sometimes—seriously, you know you've been there. I liken Addy submission day to tax day. You're trying to fill out your own form and somebody keeps asking you how to fill out their form. I just wanted to yell, "Fill out your own dad-gum form, it's every man for himself."

After hours (and I do mean hours) of frantic coworkers hanging out at my door asking me—the most confused and irritated of us all—if we were doing our submissions properly, Roberta (coworker) and I loaded my station wagon down with the entries from our department. Just as we were walking out the door (boxes in our arms) I asked Berta if she knew where we were going, "No. Do you?" Of course not, I'd never even heard of this place.

Thank you, sweet baby Jesus, for Google. All this time I thought I loved them because of Google Maps, Gmail, Google Reader, or—my favorite—because I can text them a question and they will text back the answer. Just last night, I texted them "Pei Wei Nashville Tennessee" and in less than a minute Google responded with the address and phone number which made picking up dinner as easy-as-pie.

But it's not their functionality that turns me on. I should have known it would be their sense of humor. Just as we were jetting out the door, I entered my work address as my starting place. Please look at how LifeWay Plaza came up on Google maps.


So now I work on Jr. Achievement Street—sure feels like it some days.

Google, you tickle my funny bone with your wit.

Silent Night is not a dog story.

Christmas is long gone. And I do have to tell y'all about our family Christmas gifts, because it was by far the most randomly wonderful Christmas yet. Second only to the Christmas when we received our beloved family dog, Coleman.

Coleman—he's a lab and we absolutely love that dog. He's almost a person, has his own room in our house, and matches every step my dad takes step for step. For the record, let me state: I'm a friend of dogs, even the ratty dog my sister picked up on the side of the road last Easter who has managed to weasel her way into the family. She jumps on you constantly and isn't very pretty but still, I have found a way to love her. Again, I state that I am a friend of animals.

However, I am entirely OVER Sarah McLaughlin and her animal cruelty commercials. Did you see the commercials during the holiday season? Well, guess what? The commercials are still on the air. Hello. It's January and that means "Silent Night" is out of season. (Not entirely true, but in the advertising world it should be.) 

Something about pictures of neglected animals set to the tune of "Angel"or "Silent Night" feels wrong. Silent Night, as far as I can tell, is not a dog story. Each time this commercial comes on I have to look away from the TV or press mute. Obviously, it's because I care about the animals and this sort of public service announcement is ripping my heart out. 

I just think y'all need to see this. If you've somehow been spared this for the past two holiday seasons then you are quite lucky. Your luck ends here. 

Oh, Coffee. You did me wrong.

I remember the days when I could drink coffee at night and go to bed an hour later. Those days are gone, long gone. I enjoyed two cups of coffee last night while watching The Dark Knight with Dave and Julie. At 4:30 this morning, I was still enjoying those cups of coffee. After I read three magazines, organized recipes and browsed Facebook for at least an hour, I tried to think of something new to think about and I considered 2009 and resolutions.

What's the point in a new year resolution when you're working on life resolutions—small goals, I guess? Nonetheless, it's come to my attention that I should blog more. So let's make that my 2009 resolution. Since I've been AWOL since mid-fall, there are a few funny stories to recap that'll take care of a few entries.

Happy New Year, Y'all.