Kellogg's All-Bran Commercial

The new Kellogg's All-Bran commercial is one of the funniest commercials I've seen in a long time. It seemed fairly benign the first dozen or so times I saw it. Then one day I saw the big I-beam drop from the little slit and the light bulb began to flicker. I caught the load of bricks at the end and couldn't believe this was a a squeaky-clean Kellogg's commercial.

Then the next time it came on I saw the 55-gallon drums rolling from the guy's rear end. OMG! This is tooo good. I love it!

A standing ovation to the guy who came up with this concept. It's a pretty novel way of portraying the concept "Eat All-Bran, Poop A Lot" without actually saying the word "poop" on TV.

You're Doing It Wrong

Sometimes I watch Hubby struggle with a project. He's struggling because he didn't make good plans for the project before he started. That makes me cringe because he usually ends up doing it the most difficult way possible and ending up with less than stellar results. I try not to be the Control Freak and add my two cents, but sometimes I just can't help myself. I offer, "Try doing it this way honey," and show him an easier solution.

He doesn't interpret this as help, he interprets this as condemnation of his male abilities and hears, "You're doing it wrong." He "hears" this from every woman in his life...his mother, sisters, sisters-in-law, and female coworkers. He thinks it is a female conspiracy.

Now when I find him piddling on some project, I ask, "Whatcha doin'?" Whatever he says, I immediately follow it with, "You're doing it wrong." He expects me to say that, so I go ahead and get it out of the way right up front.

At a funeral recently, the funeral director had locked his keys in his truck. Hubby had a Slim Jim and offered to try to get the truck open. He tried for a while, gave up, and let me take a crack at it. I opted for the coat-hanger-on-the-handle route since I don't know how to run a Slim Jim. I was marginally successful, but still didn't get the door open. Behind me I could hear Hubby telling the funeral director the story of women and "You're doing it wrong."

Hubby tried again with the Slim Jim, but was getting nowhere fast. Then our 9-year-old niece Jen wandered up. She watched Hubby for a while, then finally couldn't stand it any longer. She said, "Gimme that. You're doing it wrong."

Hubby shot the funeral director a knowing look and the funeral director burst out laughing. Hubby looked at me to see if I had been coaching her. I shrugged and said, "It's a Girl Thing."