Drained

Ahh, glorious Mondays. Always full of people slowly getting up to 'work speed' after the weekend. Otherwise known as 'The Mondays', or at least referred to as such by Peter Gibbons' co-workers.

The weather is finally getting nice, albeit windy, in NYC. The sun is finally in my eyes instead of behind clouds, which is a a large improvement.

I think part of my own sluggishness has been caused by an onslaught of terrible commercials that I saw yesterday. Not to sound like an old man, but I swear commercials used to be better in my adolesence. Commercials were good enough to make me purchase things called Snaliens (A hybrid of a Snail and an Alien. Who came up with this?) and Battle Trollz (use your imagination).

And what child did not yearn to own (Can Anything Stop) The Animal? Or the Typhoon (Remote controlled hovercraft) based on the marketing alone. Who cares if you knew the real thing would not come close to the expectations of the commercials. But all these products had obscenely good commercials with great jingles and tons of disclaimers about how the product would not perform exactly as depicted in the ad.

Now commercials are full of guys with deep voices saying things that are supposed to inspire awe in the customer. Unfortunately, none of them make sense. It took me several viewings of the same commercial for NFL Sunday Ticket to let me realize despite the grandiose string of words the narrator throws together (Victory, Glorious, Courage, etc.) his statements make absolutely no sense. He just happens to have a deep voice.

I guess I should probably just start reading more.