Monthly Archives: June 2009

Am I stuck in the 90s?

Hey yulz. Been feeling down lately. Been worried that I am ‘stuck in the 90s’. The other day was driving and saw a Calvin Klein orgy billboard and it ‘appealed to my sensibilities’ and ‘spoke to my aspirations of being a liberal individual who is also hot’, which planted the seed of worry.

Then I walked past Ed Hardy at the waterfront and actually considered ‘paying money to look like some trashy slut’ who digs rhinestones and skulls and tattoo-vibes, which is when the warning bells really kicked in.

A picture of class.

A picture of class.


Then, as I was perusing this season’s handbags, I almost dropped 1k on a piece of shit Guess handbag, because I momentarily forgot the rules.

How to smell rich.

How to smell 'rich'.

Then I experienced an urge to ‘push social boundaries’ by being free-spirited and zany and ‘experimenting with social taboos’ by sleeping with all my friends (guys and girls). Was a low point. Might as well drench myself in CK1 and put Nevermind on repeat.

Anyone got a vial of blood I can wear round my neck? Is 4 my image.

Anyone got a vial of blood I can wear round my neck? Is 4 my image.

Then sat at home and felt crap about myself, and decided that I need bigger boobs, which sent me spiralling, because if anything is soooo last decade, it’s big boobs. Mother of god.

Big Boobs. Not renowned for dating well.

Big Boobs. Not renowned for dating well.

And then came the last straw: I was catching up on the mandatory morning reading and saw that Britney had died her hair dark again, and I wondered if I should exclaim loudly about how much I hate her. Maybe subject a few innocent colleagues to my opinions about ‘how dumb Britney is’. Which was when I realised it: I am stuck in the 90s.

Britney-hating: the ultimate 90s opinion.

Britney-hating: the ultimate 90s opinion.

Feel very down. Can’t believe I thought I was a child of the new millennium. Thought I was original and intellectual and free-spirited and one-of-a-kind and ‘unique’. Thought that people ‘see something different and special’ in me because I go against the social grain and ‘cannot be controlled’. But now I realised I’m just a retard loser stuck in the 90s. FML.

Psychographic Profile: I am Michael Jackson

Say my name, tards.

Say my name, tards.

I am Michael Jackson
I am dead now and, to be honest,
It’s a bit of a relief
Things were getting tense there.
I was supposed to go on tour,
My ‘comeback’ tour,
But I was nowhere near up for that shiz.
I was fragile and scared
And sick,
My body totally let me down,
But I guess I let it down too.
NEwayz, no regrets,
I had a good run,
And I am free now.

This was my shout-out to spidey-bro.

This was my shout-out to spidey-bro.

I am Michael Jackson
But I don’t really identify with my personal brand anymore,
Kind of felt I was living a lie for the past 10 years,
But too much $$ depended on it.
So many people with kids who needed a salary out of my name
That I felt bad,
But I really couldn’t deal,
So I hid away in Dubai
Where people wouldn’t think I was weird for covering my face.
I just wanted to be alone.

The Portrait of Michael Dorian Jackson Gray.

The Portrait of Michael Dorian Jackson Gray.

I am Michael Jackson
Deep down, I just wanted to dance,
But that made some peeps think I was gay,
Which made me even sadder.
The only people who didn’t judge me or want something from me
Were children,
So I hung out with them.
Then people said I was a paed.
If only they knew I had lost so much faith in the world
That sex with anyone
Was the last thing on my mind.

At least kids were honest with me about my fucked-up face, unlike all my sycophantic manager bros.

At least kids were honest with me about my fucked-up face, unlike all my sycophantic manager bros.

I am Michael Jackson
I just wanted to make people happy.
My shrink said I had a ‘need 2 please’
But I never really saw what was wrong with that,
Until I tried to please everyone too many times
By having another surgery
And my face fell apart.
Which was kind of ironic because while my ‘image’ was melting,
My soul was soaring and I thought
Maybe I can carve myself into someone else,
And then everyone will leave me alone
And let me dance with my kids at my house
In private.

Just want to walk down the street without being hassled.

Just want to walk down the street without being hassled.

I am Michael Jackson
And though I wanted ppl to leave me alone,
I wish my friends had called more often-
Neverland got really quiet on Sundays,
When everyone was with their families,
Happy and loved.
So I decided to have children of my own,
To love and be loved by,
When the fans went home.
And I loved my kids,
And I did my best to protect them,
I even called my one kid ‘Blanket’ so he could feel real protected,
Even though ppl thought I was a freak.

My gift 2 my kids will be their faces.

My gift 2 my kids will be their faces.

I am Michael Jackson
Hope you liked my work.
Please don’t go all crazy now that I’m gone,
Because y’all weren’t that nice to me when I was alive,
But it’s okay.
We’re all just ppl.
Just trying to be happy.

Try be nice 2 yall next King of Pop, K?

Try be nice 2 y'all next King of Pop, K?

I am Michael Jackson
And I am free now.

Not dead. Just pretending to be.

I’m trying something new. I’m pretending I’ve died so that the value of my blog goes up exponentially. Do you think it’s working?

Just keeping it real here and rotting around on the lawn.

Just keeping it real here and rotting around on the lawn.

Figure that being dead might induce sympathy and nostalgia. Like now that I’m ‘dead’, creatives in advertising all across the country will be reminscing about how funny and zany I was, how cutting my ironic sense of humour is, how I am just ‘so real’ for not taking my job to seriously. And then, when fan mania is at its zenith, I will reveal that I was actually buried alive by mistake under a mound of job bags, and berate operations for not double-checking my pulse before they threw me into the paper shredder, which one of my Converse (luckily) jammed thus saving me from a messy execution. Brilliant.

Now, back to that mound of job bags…

Cannes Lions Advertising Awards Update

Hey y’ulle. Not sure if you all heard but there is some majah advertising awards vibe going down in this place in Francey called Cannes. It’s apparently quite important for your career to win at Cannes. Word is a Cannes Lion will ‘open a lot of doors’ for you. I think it’s because carrying a Cannes Lion requires both hands (is made of calcified semen spray painted gold – the densest material on planet earth) so people will just have to help you open doors because your hands are full.


Lots of advertising people have been calling me asking ‘whether I know anything’ since I am a blogger. Have to keep turning them away empty-eared because I don’t know anything. I don’t really follow awards y’uls. Just not really my thing. Being a copywriter, I just know too much about people and life and the cycles of fortune and flavour and public attention to be able to believe the hype around awards. Also, I kind of don’t really see the point in collecting more crap you have to store on your desk / in your home. Kind of feel like displaying awards is ‘trying too hard’. Is a bit like wearing your Converse High-Tops with a dress. Just seems a l’il desperate for approval / attention. But I know I am an over-privileged brat since I have won many awards in my life for many things and came from award-winning parents and have been fortunate enough to ‘take winning for granted’, so maybe ignore me and just keep reaching for the stars and landing on the moonface5. I’ll see y’uls you on the top-rung some day. See you when you get dere. If you ever get dere.

This graph is copyrighted to Alex van Tonderwonder (c) and first appeared in her 2015 study entitled How to work in advertising without turning into a tard.

This graph is copyrighted to Alex van Tonderwonder (c) and first appeared in her 2015 study entitled "How to work in advertising without turning into a tard".

PS. Have you ever won a Canned Lion? Once watched this show on Carte Blanche about how people were bribing officials so they could pretend they actually shot the lion themselves. Sad what people will do for awardz. 😦

so you want to get into advertising?

then read this, and remember:



is my life too perfect? do i have ‘too much fun’?

Just got back from a little mini holiday. Managed to spend some time in New York and squeeze in some shopping in London. Also attended a fab birthday party, ate some deliciously wonderful food, wrangled a sunset on beta beach, and had the most tremendous amount of fun every. single. second. Literally. Sometimes I have to stop having fun just to realise how much fun I keep having. Not sure if y’ulle know, but ‘van’ is my middle name. No jokes. Say that aloud. Check all this fun out:

Having fun on a see-saw in a park in London.

Having fun on a see-saw in a park in London.

Having fun with a little sunset on the beach.

Having fun with a little sunset on beta beach.

The fun we had to go back to after the beach.

The fun we had to go back to after the beach.

Just funning around the loft.

Just 'funning around' the loft.

Having fun with the guards at the gate. Not sure how much fun they found it.

Having fun with some 'chill 3D glasses', rapping to the guards at the gate. (Not sure how much fun they found it - maybe counts again the fun?)

Having fun with Neurotic Harvey. This is basically the most fun cat around. He stands in front of the mirror high-fiving himself for hours. True story.

Having fun with Neurotic Harvey. This is basically the most fun cat around. He stands in front of the mirror high-fiving himself for hours. True story.

The extremely fun cake from Ms fab birthday party.

The extremely fun cake from M's fab birthday party.

The boyfriend having fun with some 3D glasses and our very fun plant. And look at that fun piece of art in the corner that says so  much about our fun lives as young technophiles.

The boyfriend having fun with some 3D glasses and our very fun plant. And look at that fun piece of art in the corner that says so much about our fun lives as young technophiles.

Me having almost unbridled fun with a scarf. Can you handle it?

Me having almost unbridled fun with a scarf. Can you handle it?

Friend Kath having extreme fun at my extremely fun table at home in the loft.

Friend Kath having extreme fun at my extremely fun table at home in the loft.

Being bros with a giant bear. So much fun.

Being bros with a giant bear. So much fun.

Romantic, yet still fun. Its too much.

Romantic, yet still fun. It's too much.

What do y’ulle think? Should I make an effort to have less fun and ‘be more serious’? Do I need to ‘grow the fuck up’? Please let me know. Your feedback would be appreciated.

back from holiday. don’t stress y’ulle.