A little housekeeping before we begin today's post.
If you were reading Roundseventeen last month, and it appears many of you were, there were several themed weeks in April.
We kicked off the month with Advertising Week which dovetailed nicely into Tits & Ass Week. The results were quite astonishing.
April saw 10,890 hits, a new web traffic record. And significantly more, 2,590 more, than the previous high mark of 8500 set in March of 2014.
My math skills aren't what they used to be and my daughter won't let me borrow her $200 Texas Instruments calculator, but I believe that's an increase of more than 4,821%, with a 3% margin for error.
Which can only mean one of two things.
Some pornbot in Burma has my blog listed on their bukakke page.
Or this theme week thing is getting traction.
So today, we begin Celebrity Week -- a hazy recounting of my numerous but very brief work encounters with Hollywood's A-listers.
First up, Owen Wilson.
Years ago, I was freelancing at TBWA Chiat/Day, my old alma mater from the halcyon days of 1997. Energizer batteries had cooked up some marketing symbiotic deal with Disney and the release of the next Cars movie.
The deal allowed us to do a spot with Owen Wilson as the voice of one of the cars. What that had to do with Energizer's Double AA lithium batteries was beyond me.
But that's where copywriting and the ability to spin gold out of the fibrous material in the turds excreted by marketing committees comes in to play.
Frankly I think these co-op commercials are a scam foisted upon junior ad agency media buyers. The movie folks get free TV exposure and the ad agencies walk away deluding themselves that there will be some halo effect on their low-interest packaged goods.
In any case, Owen showed up at the recording studio in the middle of the afternoon. I'm thinking there was a little 'waking and baking' going on earlier that morning.
He was upbeat, friendly and wore a perpetual smile. The kind of perpetual smile you expect on Owen Wilson.
What struck me most about Owen's arrival at the recording studio was the effect he had on all the single women. Before he even opened the front door, the place was thick with feminine pheromones.
I watch enough nature shows on National Geographic to recognize the phenomena. It was like a herd of does in heat.
Owen would pass by the kitchen and the young ladies would start whispering.
Owen entered the recording studio and the account girls would start snapping photo's with their iPhones.
Owen finished the recording and got back to his car in the parking lot and every woman in the building went outside to wave goodbye.
And yet, two months after our recording session there were rumors that Owen Wilson attempted suicide.
But in hindsight it all makes sense. Imagine walking through life knowing that each and every woman on the street would gladly and unhesitatingly avail herself to you. And then because of marriage commitments, work schedules or life's other distractions, you were simply not able to follow through on these numerous and completely random amorous offers.
That would depress me.
I understand your pain Owen. I've lived here long enough and know that being eye candy in this town is a burden I would not wish on anybody.