My life returns to its normal state of twisted perversion today: my sainted Mother flies back to Atlanta. So all the people who have been patiently waiting for me to respond to phone calls/emails/carrier pigeons, your time has come.

Mom and I were doing some shopping while she was here. I don’t spend a lot of time shopping, because hey, I don’t have a lot of time. But she likes it, so… It sort of reminded me of all the reasons why Madison Avenue gets on my nerves. I mean, I do buy and use various beauty products, some of them expensive, so it’s not like I’m down on the whole concept. But if you want me to pay upwards of 100 bucks for a jar of skin cream, you need a better name. Or at least a better label design. Because when I look at this jar, what do I see?

Lamer. That’s what this jar says to me, and whether it’s their opinion of the customer or a statement about the product, it doesn’t inspire me to plunk down my credit card. Especially when the ad copy begins, “Even now, it is not entirely clear how Crème de la Mer works...” Honey, for $110 an ounce, you better tell me precisely how it works. Otherwise I’ll just stick to my Aveeno.