A Lubricative Deal Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on April 20th, 2008 @ 12:41 am

Time to let the cat out of the bag. I am the proud owner of asstroglide.com. For those of you with more sexually active lives than myself (basically all of you), Astroglide (with just one S) is America’s most popular “personal lubricant”.

I decided to turn to my place of work to learn how to best proceed. A few attentive conference calls later and I had it. I would think outside the box and focus on my core competencies. I would go after the low-hanging fruit and respect the paradigm shift. I would add to the value chain and deep dive from a 30,000 foot view, but without getting in the weeds too much. I would take that off-line.

I burned the midnight oil and this is what I came up with….

Fail.

Chairs Transformed Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on April 17th, 2008 @ 3:22 pm

Out of the blue the other day I got a polite email from a gentleman who said he really liked my picture of the chairs from the Laugh Club and was wondering if he could use it. He’s a graphic designer and was creating a promotion for an AIGA event. (AIGA is an association for professional designers.)

First off I was very happy that he asked for permission first instead of just taking it. But I was more surprised by the interest since I didn’t think the pic (taken with my cell phone) was all that great. I told him he could use the image free and clear but with one catch — I wanted to see the final product when he was done.

Well, he followed through and sent it to me today. Pretty cool to see the transformation.

The original:

The finished product:

The Penalties of Life Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on March 31st, 2008 @ 9:35 pm

A Dose Exclusive: The Penalties of Life.

Let’s Be Honest Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on March 3rd, 2008 @ 6:19 pm

I bought a new iPod today. Nothing crazy, just the low-end nano. It’s always exciting to buy a new toy, but when it came time to choose the free engraving I decided to just be honest about the whole situation….

Or Other Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on February 16th, 2008 @ 1:13 pm

I did my taxes online last week. While doing my state taxes I came across the following screen.

Ha ha. Ridiculous. I’m not that stupid.

This is my Life. Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on February 15th, 2008 @ 1:29 pm

I went to a Red Sox game last week and sat two rows directly behind Pesky’s Pole. In the second inning a fly ball came roaring over the 1st base line towards us. In collective response everyone in my section rose to their feet, their arms outstretched like greedy tentacles. Me? My head is between my knees and my arms are over my head in a self-protective move. Guess I remembered something from those air raid drills in 3rd grade.

The ball nails the mesh extension of the pole and drops inside the park. Foul ball. Half my beer has spilled onto my crotch. A day later I get an email from a friend heckling me. Apparently my incredibly emasculating behavior at Fenway Park was broadcast on national TV for all to see.

This is my Life.

This past Saturday was a rainy day in Boston so I decided to jump online and check out my company’s first ever Second Life party in honor of Brian, a client of ours, and the launch of his new product. I flew around Second Life and found the Cafe specified on the eVite.

Time to make my rounds. I decide to mack out on a couch within two feet of a snuggling couple. Once that got old (aka: I got no reaction from them) I scanned the room for something else to do. I saw a stool on a stage so I decided to go sit on it. Why not? Innocent enough.

Then before I know it Brian’s avatar comes out on stage and begins to answer questions from the crowd. So there I am, sitting quietly on stage behind the main attraction like some sort of petrified gargoyle in pegged jeans. Seriously, why are my jeans pegged in Second Life?! God that’s embarrassing.

I look to my left and in the wings I see JueL Resistance, the musician set to perform after Brian’s talk is done. She IMs me and tells me that I’ll have to move because that’s where she’s going to sit. So I get out of the stool and move a few feet over. JeuL takes her seat and then over the live streaming audio that everyone in the cafe can hear, she asks me to leave the stage. For a brief moment I get excited to hear my name being said, but then I quickly realize that I’m being publicly chastised on the interwebs. I sullenly exit the stage ….and the cafe.

This is my Second Life. …….. not much of a difference.

Awareness Contest Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on December 25th, 2007 @ 6:13 pm

American Urological Association
1000 Corporate Boulevard
Linthicum, MD 21090

Dear Sirs,

Enclosed please find my submission for your 2007 Prostate Awareness Poster Contest.

Regards,

- Rudy Schumann

Sweater Hogs Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on December 25th, 2007 @ 6:10 pm

It’s Christmas. If you’re not already wearing a sweater then you’ve either been gifted a sweater or have witnessed one gifted to a loved one.

In the loving spirit of the holidays, your oh-so-functional family, and sweaters, I introduce you to: the Gundersons, the Thogersons, the Davidsons, and the Hakanssons.

Happy Holidays, Dosers!

I am not. Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on November 27th, 2007 @ 10:22 pm

When I rented my car in Indianapolis the man at the counter informed me that I’d be getting the cobalt in aisle 3. I thought, why is he telling me the color of my car? Dude, I don’t care if my car is cobalt blue, cornflower blue or burnt sienna, just gimme the keys. Waiting for me in aisle 3 I found a Chevy Cobalt. It was white.

Once at cruising speed on 465 North I lowered the windows and hit the radio. It was pre-set to Hot Hot Hot 96.3 FM, my home for the best of Hip Hop and R&B. The rental car had Illinois plates on it which kind of bothered me since I wanted desperately to fit in right from the get go.

All week I’d been envisioning the ways in which I’d fit in. But I’m sad to report that I failed miserably. I didn’t tip a cow. I didn’t chew tobacco. I didn’t grow a mullet. I didn’t dip my toe in a crick. I didn’t line dance. I didn’t shoot tin cans off a log with a rifle. Uncle Jesse didn’t even offer me any moonshine. Disappointing.

A marine would have adapted. Overcome. I’m not a marine. I’m an idiot with a corporate Amex card. So I did the best that I could. I ate sausages from a vending machine. I drank beer in a strip mall. I stole a robe from the Sheraton. I saw….. stuff…

sausagevend.jpg bumpersticker.jpg
Yes, I really did. Yeeehawww!
earlofsandwich.jpg athenaeum.jpg
Fine lunch dining. A trip downtown.

My flight home was delayed for two hours due to weather on the east coast. To get away from all of the cell phone talkers I ducked into the Game Room in Terminal B. A few racing games, a shooting game, but no Galaga. Bummer. But they had one of those old Crane Grab games. In all my years I’ve never seen someone actually snag a single plushie toy from the bowels of these machines. Ever. I’ve always been convinced that the toys are exactly one ounce heavier than what the claw can physically handle, so you never win.

But with quarters clanging in my pocket and time to spare I said what the hell. To my amazement, my first 50¢ netted me a monkey from Aladdin. My second 50¢ netted me a Minnie Mouse. Wow, this is amazing. Feeling on a roll I continued and scored a rat from Ratatouille on my third shot. I. Am. The. Man.

indy-crane-grab.jpg

“I love this country!” I yelled. Then I realized that I wasn’t doing one of my Zach Braff internal monologues, I was actually yelling. I turned towards the gate and saw everyone looking in my direction. Cell phone conversations seemed to stop.

My eyes locked with a young man sitting on a seat closest to the main walkway. His posture was amazing. His shirt was just as stiff. He was a marine. He gave me a strong nod, apparently in approval of my patriotic exclamation.

Heads swiveled back to neutral positions, cell phone conversations started up again. I scooped up my little buddies and walked over to the marine. “By any chance are you on your way home?” Yes. “Any chance you have any young nieces or nephews?” Yes. I handed him my winnings.

I am not a marine. I’m an idiot with a corporate Amex card.

On The Wings of Love Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on September 27th, 2007 @ 11:09 pm

I went to Paul’s wedding in Salem this summer. The invitation requested a photo of yourself to be used in their guestbook. So I sent Paul six photos to choose from: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and finally 6.

Photo 6 was my high school wrestling picture which Paul would have recognized since I used it as a holiday card a number of years ago. My plan was to force Paul’s hand into using the wrestling pic since none of the others are appropriate for a guestbook, or anywhere for that matter. I waited for Paul to email me back asking for a “real” photo, but one never arrived.

Nice. I was going to get what I wanted. I was already thinking of how I’d sign the guestbook. Something about “grappling hearts.”. Maybe I’d even make a Vision Quest reference!

Mid-reception, with vodka cranberry in hand, I sauntered over to the guestbook to fulfill my guestly duty, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

I could do only one thing…….

“Paul, It is with these wings of love that I wish you and Jenn the very best. May your love soar high. Congratulations! — Andy”

Well played, Paul. Well played.

The Barbie Collection Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on August 28th, 2007 @ 10:02 pm

The Dose is proud to present: The Barbie Collection.

Knights of the Round Eye Table Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on July 17th, 2007 @ 11:25 pm

I went to a wedding reception in Chinatown last weekend. A wedding I could walk home from. Wow. I’ve been waiting for this my entire life. And before the reception started I made a pact with myself that I would try every dish thrown my way. And I held up my end of the bargain through all ten courses served. If I go the rest of my life without again eating jelly fish tentacles or sea urchin, I will not complain.

This was a traditional Chinese wedding. There was an emcee who spoke 95% Chinese the entire night. The bride sung a karaoke song to her now husband. There was no dancing. No dancing?! Hey! I think I like Chinese weddings!

Now I’ve been at the singles table before. The out-of-towners table. The relatives table. The kids table. The odds-and-ends table. But this was a first. I was at the white table. The round eye table. The cracker barrel.

And even though I felt a bit insulted when we were the only table to be given forks, without asking for them, while every other table was given only chopsticks…. I slurped down my shark fin soup and smiled, genuinely happy for the lovely couple.

In what I’d like to call an accidental mistake in etiquette but will admit was really the presence of insecurity, I snuck ahead of the farewell line to avoid the bride and parents and went straight to the groom at the end. “Hey man, thanks so much for coming, really.” “Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t miss it.” “Seriously man, thanks, when I get back we have to get drinks.” “Sure thing.” I slipped him the red envelope, so proud of myself for doing the extra research.

It felt strange to be wearing a suit in Chinatown as I wound my way tipsily through its narrow corridors. I didn’t feel like a king. I felt like I looked like I was trolling for hookers or something. Not a soul in sight and I was still concerned about what people were thinking of me.

My Slimmerizing Sheath Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on July 17th, 2007 @ 9:58 pm

Behold my slimmerizing sheath. It is breath-taking.*

Ever since I can remember I’ve kept my Bank of America debit card in its protective sheath. Of course I did. In fact, I’ve even been known to go to the bank and request a fresh replacement sheath when it was called for. Of course I have.

Like a samurai’s sword, once it was removed from its sheath it had to be used else I’d bring great shame and dishonor to me and my family. “Yeah, that’s what I said. a VENTI decaf latte with a shot of peppermint, extra whip. On the card.”

Well, are you sitting down? …. After over a decade, I have finally thrown out my Bank of America debit card sheath. Yes, it’s true. I am sheathless. I’m raw cardin’ it baby. And it feels greeeeat!!

I will give you a moment to compose yourselves.

As Hard as She Tried Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on July 17th, 2007 @ 9:49 pm

Smart-Alec Females Dose Pill

Posted by Andy on June 10th, 2007 @ 11:19 pm

About a year ago I started collecting a small pamphlet called “This Week in Boston”. They’re small booklets published in the 1940’s full of news tidbits and things to do around the city. It’s like seeing a snapshot in time and it’s fun to look at the vintage ads and read about establishments that once were or that are still standing today.

On page forty two of each issue are the personals ads which I defy you to not enjoy. The ads are very sincere yet unintentionally hilarious. If you weren’t seeing them with your own eyes you might think they were fake. They’re surprisingly brief and written in such a formal style.

Personable young lady would like to correspond with ‘older’ man, interested in discussing the problems of present-day society.”

Poet — poor, romantic, good company, owns dress suit. Would escort ladies for small fee.”

Away from home town and secretary — businessman needs companionship of businesswoman, secretary or teacher for theatre, sports, trips, races. Age 30-40.”

This stuff is priceless.

One day an idea hit me. What if I took these ads and posted them verbatim on Craigslist today. Same city. Same words. Would they still garner a response a full 60 years later? What would that say? As society and technology hurtle us forward through the years, are people still yearning for the same things in their lives?

I typed up the ads and I broke them down into present-day Craigslist categories. W4M. M4W. Services. Resumes. And on a rainy Saturday afternoon I posted the ads. I felt a bit of guilt over what I was doing. I mean, I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want to get any one’s hopes up and since I already knew I wouldn’t be responding to any of them would I be doing just that? Would my lack of response do damage to someone?

I stepped away from my computer. Maybe I’d go get some Indian food. Like a backyard chef I was ready to leave my ads in the Craigslist grill, close the lid, and let them marinate for a few hours before I proudly checked in on them again later. As I turned the handle to leave I heard it. bee-boop! An email response had already come in. And as I tried (bee-boop) to read the email (bee-boop) I found myself distracted (bee-boop) by all of the other emails (bee-boop) coming in. bee-boop. bee-boop! bee-boop!! bee-boop!!! I was wholly unprepared for the deluge. Good Ganesh. Indian food would have to wait. Over the next twenty four hours the response count would continue to climb steadily, exceeding the 100 mark. And I would scramble to keep up with it all…..

First up, the ladies:

Phytophilous Female of perspicuity would epistolate with young male of same inclination.

This ad is an enormous hit and several people admit having run to their dictionary in order to respond properly. Just hearing that triggers the pangs of guilt (people *did* something because of my ad) but I push the guilt down. Luckily this guilt evaporates completely when I open an email from “e” which simply says “25 M, blessed” and before I know it I’m staring at an enormous shot of his cock. Yup. My first dick pic!! And he’s at his full “blessed” attention too. A vegetarian woman wants to write letters to another vegetarian and this guy thinks, “Hey, I got it. I’ll send her a photo of my penis!” It’s like sending a picture of a cow to someone who’s lactose-intolerant. Aside for this lovely visual the responses vary. Some are clever, “Weed-B-Gon will eradicate pre-emergent, obfusticating arguments.” Some are predictable, “how would you like a massage with oil from my aloe vera plant?” And some are hard to explain. James tells me nice try but that I should check my syntax, signing off with “I’m not what you are looking for.” I guess after crushing the Sunday Times crossword puzzle and looking for more conquests James likes to point out mistakes in personal ads that he’s not interested in. I’m tempted to send James back a shot of my junk, but I resist.

Young Woman, just out of college, is spending summer at mountain retreat with elderly (and rich) relatives. Bored to extinction. Will somebody write me a nice sparkling letter. I’ll answer promptly.

This ad gave me instant mental images of Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Gray. I kept waiting for a response of “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” but it never comes. This innocent request for letters is answered by men who want to meet the young woman in the secluded woods in whatever idyllic town this mountain retreat resides in, and ravage her repeatedly. Or they want the letters to be about her sexual fantasies. One responder cites his “massage skills” and another in all caps just says CALL ME followed by a local number. A response of “HOW DO YOU LOOK LIKE?” and many others like it start to confirm my hunch that for many of the respondees, English may not be their first language….. and half of the internet seems to be suffering from a broken caps lock button.

Tall, green-eyed miss, lover of indoor sports would like correspondence with young men of like tastes. (Age 28-35)

I didn’t think anything of it when I read it originally, but the “indoor sports” reference has the men in a frenzy. This is obviously a green light for much raunchier emails and references to flexibility and endurance are found in 90% of the responses. This ad also garners lots of photos. Some faces. Some body parts. Scott confidently lets me know about his “34 inch waist - killa eyes & butt im told.” Stephen about his “strong hands.”

Vulture for Culture — Wish to meet young man with sense of rhythm who likes Slavonic dances.

Ha! The responses include a link to a guy’s MySpace page, a response of just “Love to Dance! I am Game!” and last but not least a little history lesson, “Hi, you’re looking for slavic dances. Slavonic is 300 yr old russian used by some eastern rite catholic churches.” Why thank you, Professor.

Young, active, attractive private secretary would engage in exchange of letters with a nice young man on outdoor sports– not fishing.

The “not fishing” requirement is what made me love this ad so much, but that point goes relatively unnoticed. Alessio sends me a pic of his face and his abs with an email that just says “DINNER??? IF INTERESTED LET ME KNOW!” Another email simply says “real secretary?”

Time for the men:

Write A Letter to a lonesome guy on a farm far from the bright lights. Smart-Alec females save your postage. I am a nature boy, aged 27.

Gentleman — 6 footer with quizzical smile and twinkle in eyes would like to meet attractive woman 35 or 40 (no junior miss or college student) to discuss frailties of life and do something about it.

Male Ph.D. seeks interesting and stimulating correspondence from Ph.D. of opposite sex.

Gentleman Explorer, leaving on private expedition to the South Seas would like to correspond while en route with lively miss. Will send snapshots of interesting places and people.

Smart-Alec females. *snarf* I eagerly await the replies but the response rate is disappointingly low. Still, every ad gets at least one response. The responses are intelligently written and polite. “What are you doing there on the farm far from the bright lights?:-)” “what woman wouldn’t want to see the south seas?” “What do you like to chat about?” “What a great post! Short, sweet and to the point. How old are you?” It’s a lopsided wave of civility and lower-casing that is more than welcome.

I’M LONESOME.

This one was a special case since there was no clue as to what gender wrote it, and I made a point to post it that way as well. When I read this ad in the pamphlet I knew I would post it. Of all of the ads this one spoke most to the core of what I was trying to reveal. I wanted to know if this sentiment was something that would persevere through the years. Would it resonate. The fact that there was no elaboration in the ad made it that much more poignant. Well, it got two responses, both from men. Art, in an act of selflessness wrote, “are you a female? if so i would love to cheer you up if you are a guy i have no intrest in you thankks” And Joe wrote back something that shocked me. His email simply said “get a puppy.” Wow.

It’s not just about romance….

If You Bulge in all the wrong places let me fit you to my slimmerizing sheath– it is breath-taking.

Even this ad gets a response! A plus-sized model on the North Shore of Boston would like more information.

Jealousy Promotion Co. — New service! Will telephone anyone anywhere– sweet male and female voices used. Possibilities of creating imaginary competition unsurpassed. Brings hesitant lovers to heel. Individual attention by trained psychologists. Brochure on request. Confidential.

I love this ad! And for reasons I can’t explain it gets flagged and removed by the community. But not before a request comes in for a brochure.

College Grad. Harvard. Matrimonially inclined. Has the girl but not the job. Wants Boston position. Advertising and sales promotion experience. Latest effort– moved record quantities of nationally-advertised product. Lusty, loyal, ambitious, imaginative, indefatigable, magnetic but unobtrusive and modest personality. Interview may prove profitable to us both.

Would you ever use the word lusty to describe yourself on a resume? Well, you might be surprised to learn that this ad had five responses. Four seemed like robot responses from recruiters, but one seemed legit, “Do you have a contact #?” Sad that that is what constitutes a real response at this point.

My goal was not to give a commentary on the denizens of Craigslist and their email habits, grammar, or potential demographics. I just wanted to see if people were still reaching out for the same things today as they were in the past. What they buy may be different. What they drive. How they dress. Their jobs. But what about their hearts?

I don’t know if I succeeded in proving anything. But as crazy as these ads were I couldn’t help but re-read them all one last time and think….. I like indoor sports. I don’t like fishing. I’ve fantasized about sailing the South Seas. I’m lusty. I’ve wished for imaginary competition. I write sparkling letters. I fight a few bulges. I’m lonesome.

Maybe I should get a puppy.