BIGGER THAN LIFE
I buckled and bought a GiantKat today, or a MegaKat, or some other [modifier meaning big, perhaps even “big” itself]Kat. This MamoKat is a Kit Kat bar, but, as the modifier implies, it has been big-ified. I saw it sitting in the vending machine when I stopped to make copies today (note to office planners: putting the vending machine next to the copy machine is a brilliant marketing strategy, if morally suspect). I managed to make several copies before I caved.
I must admit that when I made my purchase, I did not really know what I was getting into. I just saw the label and figured it maybe contained more of those little bar pieces than usual, or perhaps the ones it contained were longer. It was hard to tell from the packaging. Upon opening the wrapper, I discovered that I had been in error. All my guesses were wrong. The MassiKat turned out to be a single bar, one huge piece of Kit Kat. That whole advertising jingle that they did, you know “break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar” has no bearing on this goliath. It is a huge, unified whole. It’s as if someone did break off a piece of the kit kat bar but instead of eating it, they hit it with the same concoction of radiation and gene therapy that led to The Hulk. I treated it very carefully. I really didn’t want to make this thing angry, afraid it might get bigger.
After I recovered my initial shock and remembered that it was a candy bar and that candy bars, as a rule, do not generally get angry, I was overcome with joy. I love Kit Kats. Finding this one was like finding a dollar bill in your pocket and then realizing that you had misread the numbers and discovering it was actually ten dollars. So I ate it.
Turns out Kit Kat bars don’t scale up very well. Perhaps something was off in the ratio of smooth chocolate and crisp wafers. Perhaps that much Kit Kat in one place upset the balance of nature and warped reality. Perhaps the gods found it offensive that mortals would dare toy with such forces and cursed the monstrous candy bar and all who gazed upon it. I don’t know. I just know that my dream became a nightmare, the ten dollar bill turned out to be Monopoly money after all. I am, several hours later, still regretting my decision to purchase the MonstroKat. I’m thinking I should have gone for the MegaCrunch instead.
Monday, June 28, 2004
Thursday, April 08, 2004
THINK PEOPLE, THINK!
From the Not-Entirely-Clear-On-the-Concept Department:
Today’s discussion is about signs. Two of them. They’re unrelated in content, scope, and purpose. What they do share, it would seem, is the apparent failure of their creators to really think about the purpose of the sign before putting it on display.
Sign 1:
The first sign is in Bethesda. Bethesda is the restaurant capital of the world, possibly the universe. There are more restaurants per something (capita or square foot, I’ve never really been sure which, maybe both) than any other city in the United States. There are also quite a few businesses (to better serve the restaurants, I guess). This means that traffic, both automobile and foot, is often heavy (especially after eating – hahaha I crack me up). Someone has apparently decided that it would be a good idea to remind motorists to be careful. So they put up a banner over the road. They put it high enough so trucks could get underneath it, which was intelligent. The idea itself wasn’t a bad idea, either. The implementation, however, needs improvement. They chose to post their public service announcement as two lines of black text on a green background. Did I mention that this was a banner that spanned three lanes of traffic? Two lines of that length is a lot of text. A lot of text high in the air that is hard to distinguish from its background. By the time I figured out what it said and finished reading it, I had to slam on my brakes to avoid rear-ending the car in front of me. Seems a little counter-productive if you ask me.
Sign 2:
I saw the second sign in my apartment building on the community message board. It was a thin strip of paper with about a paragraph of text on it. The gist of the message was that the person was new to graphic design and wanted small jobs to help build their resume. The idea makes sense and selling small services to neighbors seemed smart to me. The trouble with this sign is that it completely failed to demonstrate any skill at graphic design. It was a paragraph cut from a printed page. This ad is the only evidence a potential customer has of the person’s graphic design abilities and it does not inspire confidence.
So, today’s lesson, is THINK about what you’re doing. Think about the goal, and then think about how ALL aspects of your solution affect that goal. If you’re designing a sign to promote safety, make sure the sign itself isn’t dangerous. If you’re trying to promote your graphic design skills, make sure your advertisement does not suggest you have none.
From the Not-Entirely-Clear-On-the-Concept Department:
Today’s discussion is about signs. Two of them. They’re unrelated in content, scope, and purpose. What they do share, it would seem, is the apparent failure of their creators to really think about the purpose of the sign before putting it on display.
Sign 1:
The first sign is in Bethesda. Bethesda is the restaurant capital of the world, possibly the universe. There are more restaurants per something (capita or square foot, I’ve never really been sure which, maybe both) than any other city in the United States. There are also quite a few businesses (to better serve the restaurants, I guess). This means that traffic, both automobile and foot, is often heavy (especially after eating – hahaha I crack me up). Someone has apparently decided that it would be a good idea to remind motorists to be careful. So they put up a banner over the road. They put it high enough so trucks could get underneath it, which was intelligent. The idea itself wasn’t a bad idea, either. The implementation, however, needs improvement. They chose to post their public service announcement as two lines of black text on a green background. Did I mention that this was a banner that spanned three lanes of traffic? Two lines of that length is a lot of text. A lot of text high in the air that is hard to distinguish from its background. By the time I figured out what it said and finished reading it, I had to slam on my brakes to avoid rear-ending the car in front of me. Seems a little counter-productive if you ask me.
Sign 2:
I saw the second sign in my apartment building on the community message board. It was a thin strip of paper with about a paragraph of text on it. The gist of the message was that the person was new to graphic design and wanted small jobs to help build their resume. The idea makes sense and selling small services to neighbors seemed smart to me. The trouble with this sign is that it completely failed to demonstrate any skill at graphic design. It was a paragraph cut from a printed page. This ad is the only evidence a potential customer has of the person’s graphic design abilities and it does not inspire confidence.
So, today’s lesson, is THINK about what you’re doing. Think about the goal, and then think about how ALL aspects of your solution affect that goal. If you’re designing a sign to promote safety, make sure the sign itself isn’t dangerous. If you’re trying to promote your graphic design skills, make sure your advertisement does not suggest you have none.
Friday, March 19, 2004
NO GIRLS ALLOWED
My roommate is getting married and it is my privilege, honor, and absolute joy to be in charge of the bachelor party. Good stuff. I have attended a few and I have planned one once before. Well, one and a half. The “one” went really well. The “half” was not quite as spectacular. My roommate and I collaborated on that one when we found out that the Best Man had no intention of doing so. Unfortunately, we only noticed this omission about a week before the wedding and were forced to hold the event on a Thursday evening before a Saturday wedding with only about two days to actually plan. It was small, but intense. The groom was still hung over at the rehearsal dinner. The bride has not forgiven us for that one. She fails to appreciate that we gave the groom a whole day longer to recuperate than his father received when he did his bachelor party. Being hung-over at the rehearsal dinner is much much better than being hung-over at the wedding itself.
After witnessing the effects of that bachelor party (on both the groom AND my roommate), my roommate’s fiancée made us promise (several times) to keep my roommate sober in the 48 hours prior to the wedding. I find this interesting because our other friend’s wife has made him promise to do the exact opposite. She would consider it fitting revenge to see my roommate hung-over at his own rehearsal dinner (see, I told you she still hasn’t forgiven us). How that will play out, I do not know, but I cannot wait to find out. As far as the official bachelor party is concerned, we are keeping the first promise. We are, in fact, holding the bachelor party a week before even the bachelorette party. But that’s okay, because our party will be better.
My roommate’s fiancée is beginning to get worried. She wants more time with him that weekend. She wants to make sure he’s safe. She wants to know what is going on. She’s getting none of it. Ordinarily, I’m a pretty decent fellow. I do, in fact, feel a little guilty that she is getting nervous about this. But this is a bachelor party. The entire point of the bachelor party is to take the groom away from the bride, to raucously establish his masculine independence. So if the bride is worried, good. I’m not going to console her. I’m not going to reassure her. I will promise we won’t intend to do any permanent damage, but that’s about it.
She’s not alone. There are apparently numerous other women who share her curiosity and, to their chagrin, her ignorance. “But I promise I won’t tell her,” they say. I do not care. Then they threaten or cajole. One girl even stood on my toes and threatened to stay there until I told my secret. I left with a slight limp and she left with nothing. It is my philosophy that no female is to be privy to any of the plans unless her assistance is necessary. And certainly, no female should attend the party unless she is paid for services rendered at said party. Some girls do not this applies to them. “But I’m just like one of the guys…” No, actually, you’re not. Close, maybe, in some behaviors, but lacking a certain something.
The bachelor party is for males and unless you have fulfilled all the requirements to be a male, you may not attend. And blocking your attempts to do so is half the fun.
My roommate is getting married and it is my privilege, honor, and absolute joy to be in charge of the bachelor party. Good stuff. I have attended a few and I have planned one once before. Well, one and a half. The “one” went really well. The “half” was not quite as spectacular. My roommate and I collaborated on that one when we found out that the Best Man had no intention of doing so. Unfortunately, we only noticed this omission about a week before the wedding and were forced to hold the event on a Thursday evening before a Saturday wedding with only about two days to actually plan. It was small, but intense. The groom was still hung over at the rehearsal dinner. The bride has not forgiven us for that one. She fails to appreciate that we gave the groom a whole day longer to recuperate than his father received when he did his bachelor party. Being hung-over at the rehearsal dinner is much much better than being hung-over at the wedding itself.
After witnessing the effects of that bachelor party (on both the groom AND my roommate), my roommate’s fiancée made us promise (several times) to keep my roommate sober in the 48 hours prior to the wedding. I find this interesting because our other friend’s wife has made him promise to do the exact opposite. She would consider it fitting revenge to see my roommate hung-over at his own rehearsal dinner (see, I told you she still hasn’t forgiven us). How that will play out, I do not know, but I cannot wait to find out. As far as the official bachelor party is concerned, we are keeping the first promise. We are, in fact, holding the bachelor party a week before even the bachelorette party. But that’s okay, because our party will be better.
My roommate’s fiancée is beginning to get worried. She wants more time with him that weekend. She wants to make sure he’s safe. She wants to know what is going on. She’s getting none of it. Ordinarily, I’m a pretty decent fellow. I do, in fact, feel a little guilty that she is getting nervous about this. But this is a bachelor party. The entire point of the bachelor party is to take the groom away from the bride, to raucously establish his masculine independence. So if the bride is worried, good. I’m not going to console her. I’m not going to reassure her. I will promise we won’t intend to do any permanent damage, but that’s about it.
She’s not alone. There are apparently numerous other women who share her curiosity and, to their chagrin, her ignorance. “But I promise I won’t tell her,” they say. I do not care. Then they threaten or cajole. One girl even stood on my toes and threatened to stay there until I told my secret. I left with a slight limp and she left with nothing. It is my philosophy that no female is to be privy to any of the plans unless her assistance is necessary. And certainly, no female should attend the party unless she is paid for services rendered at said party. Some girls do not this applies to them. “But I’m just like one of the guys…” No, actually, you’re not. Close, maybe, in some behaviors, but lacking a certain something.
The bachelor party is for males and unless you have fulfilled all the requirements to be a male, you may not attend. And blocking your attempts to do so is half the fun.
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