About Author

Karen Fayeth

Infomercial Wow

Over the holiday break, my lazy hind-end had the opportunity to watch a LOT more television than I usually do.

And since I watch sans a TiVo or similar device, I am subjected to all manner of commercials. The retail onslaught has been hard and heavy this year.

But sometimes, there is a commercial that rises above the rest.

It began with the repeated ads for a product called ShamWow.

A very enthusiastic guy with a wireless microphone headset (mildly reminiscent of Madonna in the Vogue years, image here) and an east coast New York/New Jersey blend accent extolled the virtues of this fabulous new absorbent product.

Okay. Well, good. Very spongy.

But the commercial stood out more for the oddball guy making the pitch than for the product itself. I admit, it was, as they say in the marketing world, “sticky”. I can remember the product name off the top of my head, so it’s working.

Then a couple days ago, the ShamWow guy showed up in a new ad for something called a SlapChop. This product is a new and improved version of a good ol’ kitchen chopper.

Same guy, same accent, but he’s got a schtick working now. There he is, chopping away at a variety of items, telling us that the SlapChop is going to transform our lives.

Then he said something in the ad that caused The Good Man and I to stop all activity and look at each other.

“Did he really say that,” I asked, and TGM nodded.

What my new television pal Vince Offer said was:

“You’re going to love my nuts.”

He then showed how the SlapChop can decimate the nut of your choice to tiny bits.

Then later he also said, “Stop having a boring tuna.”

Well yeah! Who wants a boring tuna!

At first I was kind of put off by this Vince guy, but the more he shows up on my television screen (which is a LOT lately), the more I’m in this guy’s corner.

A quick Wikipedia glance makes for some good reading. (you’ve made it when you have a Wiki about you…right?)

I found a Slate article, and below is the best quote that sums up exactly what I wanted to say:

“Vince…conveys a street-smart persona—with his headset microphone, rat-a-tat phrasing and fuhgeddaboutit confidence—that’s intended to get the viewer thinking, “Hey, this guy’s sharp. He knows a good deal.” (It may also get us thinking, “Hey, this guy’s a douche. He needs a better haircut.” But that’s a secondary issue.)”

Can Vince become the next Billy Mays (of OxiClean and OrangeGlo fame)?

Time will tell.

For now, let me just say this. You’re gonna love his nuts.

Image from SlapChop website.

Oh Snap!

Richardson drops bid for commerce secretary post

Yeah…Oh Fair New Mexico…you were thisclose to having one of ours seated firmly in the cabinet of our new president.

The presidency that will certainly be historic. The one that promised change.

But instead, you sit on the sidelines, dress torn, makeup smeared, hair all a mess, not yet ready for the Miss America contest.

C’mon you crazy mixed up state! Let me take you out for a nice plate of enchiladas and a pitcher of margaritas.

You can even have the extra sopapilla.

We’ll get ’em next time, tiger!

Near and Dear to my Heart

Sit back, I’m about to go on a bit of a rant, inspired by a story I read today in the SFGate.

About six or eight years ago, I was living in a small apartment in the South Bay, in a small eight unit building. The building dated back to at least the 1930’s, if not earlier, and featured this breathing dragon of a wall heater as its only source to take the chill of cold rainy evenings.

I had gone home to New Mexico for Christmas, and my mom, ever the practical one, had given me a carbon monoxide alarm as a gift.

Fine. Whatever. I took it back to California with me where it sat, unused, in the box for quite a while. A year or more, if truth be told.

One day, I was cleaning up the place when I found that thing and figured, “oh well”. I put in the batteries and hung it from my ceiling. Fine. Look at me. Miss Practical.

A couple months later, the damn thing started going off.

I was frustrated. Surely this was defective. Busted. Whatever.

I unscrewed it from the ceiling and moved it farther back.

And the damn thing kept going off.

Weird.

Fine. So after dealing with the piercing noise for, again, if I’m telling the truth here, several months, I finally called PG&E. I knew it would take them *forever* to fit me in, but whatever.

I told them that my carbon monoxide alarm kept going off and could I get an appointment for someone to come out check.

Anticipating at least 30 days before I got an appointment, I was surprised when, instead, the call dispatcher said, “someone will be there immediately” and further, “open all the doors and windows until someone arrives.”

Uh. Ok. Much ado about nothing, right? But at least I’d get quick attention.

Good for their word, a guy showed up within about ten minutes.

He took a reading in the center of the room and said, “I’m going to cap off your gas, you have fatal levels of carbon monoxide in here.”

Well blow me over.

Turns out there was a center tube of metal inside the heater that had slid down when the house settled or from age, and it left a crack about an inch wide that was venting the heater right into my apartment.

The next day, I absentmindedly told this story to a friend at work, and she started crying. One of her dearest friends had died from carbon monoxide poisoning. Her life could have been saved with the simple installation of a carbon monoxide alarm, but it was, instead, lost.

When The Good Man moved into our place, I told him this story and said I will never live in a place that does not have a working carbon monoxide alarm.

I refuse.

I was reminded about all of this today when I saw the headline in the local paper say:

Two Bay Area families survive carbon monoxide poisoning

“The mother said the family started feeling sick around midnight…When their symptoms failed to improve in the morning, they headed for the emergency room.”

That woman’s good thinking saved her family, her kids, her own life.

It scares the crap out of me. Apartments are required to have a smoke alarm, but not a carbon monoxide alarm. They even make dual alarms these days, both fire and carbon monoxide. Easy peasy!

So please, anyone who is reading this, don’t hesitate, don’t call it “some remote possibility”. Don’t put it off.

Get thee to a Wal-Mart or a Target or a Home Depot and BUY a carbon monoxide alarm and install it where you will spend most of your time.

Buy two, one for the living room and one for your bedroom. Just do it, okay?

Thanks. Your life matters to me.

Oh and…

The Feline would like you to know it’s cold, so if you could crank up the heater then sit down and allow me to suck all the warmth from your human body, that would be great.

Oh, and more kibble in the bowl too…