I am drawn to odd, silly things.
It’s half the reason why my blog has its name — the other half being as a tribute to my late cat Silly — and why some previous writing iteration said its purpose was to “document life’s weirdness” or something like that.
Which is why I was pulled to a Prosecco Pong game yesterday … even though I don’t drink … in a shoe store.
Because sometimes you have to keep your drinking games classy.
Speaking of drinking games, way, way back when my brother graduated high school, our neighbors had a daughter the same age, so we went over to their house for her graduation party.
At one point, my father went to grab another beer or something, and he stopped at the picnic table where a bunch of kids were drinking and playing cards (no, they weren’t 21, but the statute of limitations has long since passed and none of them drove), clearly curious.
When he came back, he told me he asked what game they were playing, and the answer was “a–hole.”
Needless to say, he found that kind of odd, but I had heard of it, and explained it in what little detail I could, which was that there was some kind of hierarchy involved, and the a–hole was at the bottom and had to wear the empty beer case on his or her head.
I’m not sure it really helped.
After shoe-shopping, my wife and I went to see “Mary Queen of Scots” (solid flick), and then to dinner at P.F. Chang’s in Natick Mall.
It’s almost like someone found an unused hangar for private jets and decided to fill it with stores and enough bright lights to induce mild sensory overload.
They had a Roots. I love Roots, but it felt out of place, since Natick, Massachusetts is not Canada.
They even had a “Boxing Week” sale, which only Canadaphiles or Anglophiles would probably understand.
In what universe does Pottery Barn Baby need to exist?
Sure, the stuff looked really nice, but it’s Pottery Barn … for babies. Why? Are there parents out there so status-conscious that regular old baby stuff isn’t good enough?
Hold on … I know that answer. I used to work in a Dick’s Sporting Goods, where people could buy Air Jordans in baby sizes, and they did.
Also, is calling your store “XXI Forever” supposed to not make us realize it’s Forever 21?
My wife took this photo. She said our cat Sasha would love to sit on it.
She found it at PBTeen, as in Pottery Barn for teenagers. Had there been such a thing when I was a teenager, would people I know have wanted stuff from there?
Maybe.
Also, do I know anyone who would play Prosecco Pong?
Do the marketing people at Spanx get together to decide their marketing campaigns based on what events are coming up that make women feel the most insecure about themselves?
In future months, can we look forward to “Wedding Season Ready!” and “High School Reunion Ready!” or “You’re Having Another Birthday Ready!”
When I mentioned this to my wife on the way to the gym this morning, she replied that a lot of marketing is based on making women feel bad about themselves, reminding me that out of nowhere, eyebrows and “thigh gaps” became things to worry about.
I confess. I’m a guy. It didn’t really occur to me at that level; I was just thinking about how Spanx promotes its stuff.
A little while later, we came out of the gym and saw both a gigantic Hummer and a man looking at it with no small amount of admiration.
Different kind of marketing there, if you know what I mean.
A Silly Place 