I've discussed my hatred of most major advertising campaigns before. Everyone knows my utter hatred of that stupid Whiskas cat (no meat, NO HUBERT!), the toe nail fungus dudes, and the most sophisticated thing I'm told I'll ever pee on. Gross.

But today, when I was flipping through daytime television, deciding who would rot my brain less - Dr. Phil, or Judge Judy, I saw it. It! I saw the most infuriating advertisement ever. An innocent grilled cheese sandwich, made with Kraft Singles (mmm, nothing like Kraft Singles, although I wonder if they ever get lonely?). Alas, this was a "happy" sandwich. That's how I like my food. I like my food fucking happy before I sink my teeth into it, grind it up, and send it stomach bound. But wait... Have A Happy Sandwich?

Hasn't this been used before? Oh yes. Ohhh yes. Always. Have a Happy Period. Just what I want to think about when I think of grilled cheese sammiches. It seems someone in Kraft's advertising department is a lazy sack of shit.

"Have a Happy Period" is ridiculous enough. I've ranted about the stupidity of this before, I know. But srsly. If you're going to use such a dumbfuck slogan, at least make the commercials funny. Show it like it is. Instead of riding horses or going swimming or wearing skimpy little white dresses, show it like it is. I dare you, Always, I fucking dare you. Show me a fat chick sitting on the deep freeze in her long johns eating Heavenly Hash right out of the container, and I'll show you a "happy period". Die.

But now the dumbfuck stupidity has escaped the realm of feminine hygiene and infiltrated food. FOOD. Now, what the hell made the advertising department think I would want to think of THAT while I am shopping for cheese slices? You can't tell me I'm not supposed to make a connection between these two slogans. "Have a Happy ____" is four words. Now, I'm no mathematician, but that means these slogans are seventy-five per cent the EXACT SAME. Fail. If I'd written a paper in school that was seventy-five per cent the same as something else, that would be called plagiarism. But on TV, it's perfectly fine.

How about Tylenol wishes me a happy headache? Head-on wishes me a happy... directly to the forehead? Toe fungus dudes wish me a happy... toe fungus? Hubert wishes me a happy foray into veganism? Smirnoff could wish me a happy detox, I guess. The Geico gecko could wish me a happy insurance claim. Those "make your own will" folks could wish me a happy divvying up of my meager possessions. Febreze could wish me a happy half-assed cleansing of my home/clothing/furniture. But no.

If this shit goes any further, I am moving to the middle of the forest and living off the land. I will be a happy hermit, eating my happy sammiches.

This is why I am happier when I am poor and without cable.

In other, somewhat better, and FUCKING AWESOME news, my old newspaper partner in crime, Gabrielle the fancy dancy illustratoress (this sounds a lot better when said aloud than it looks when typed) and I are starting a supersecret but FUCKING AWESOME new
project. When we both get around to it. We're both a bit...procrastinatory? Er, she's a go-getter, and I'm fucking lazy. Either way. Eventually, something cool will happen. I promise. (And I promise to stay away from that stupid stick-mouse-drawy thingeroo.