If I murder the infomercial people, I'm pretty sure I could get off with justifiable homicide...

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They used me, abused me, and violated me in ways most unbefitting.  I thought I could trust them.  I thought they had honor.

I will never trust television advertising again!

I was watching something on television the other day when an ad came on ranting about the benefits of using this new frizzy hair product. You'd smooth out the tangles, you'd reduce the static, you'd end up looking just like the model ... apparently.

I found it hard to believe that I'd end up looking like a six foot amazonian blonde who seemed to have left her lower ribs at home that day just because I used a handful of goop on my hair, but hey, I'm open minded. I decided to give it a go anyway.

I suppose I should have known better than to believe a ruddy hair product ad. They've never told me the truth before, why should they start now?

But despite what my common sense was telling me, I trotted down to my local apothocary and shelled out the ridiculous sum of $40 for the bottle of serum.  A very, VERY small bottle of serum.

Sure it was a lot of money for such a teensy amount of hair product, but it'd be worth every cent if it actually worked.  My hair has always been on the curly side, with a definite leaning towards frizz whenever I'm silly enough to try brushing it.  If the production worked even half as well as they claimed, it would have been money well spent.  I got home, washed my hair and smoothed the stuff on, then dried it.

 No difference. No berloody difference whatsoever! 

 I've been duped! Hoodwinked! Honestly, one of these days I'm going to hunt down all these snake oil merchants and exact my own special brand of vigilante justice!

Seriously, it's a dangerous thing to do, tempting a frizzy haired woman with promises of smooth, silky curls!  There isn't a jury in the land that would convict me!

I can actually feel my brain cells dying melodramatic little deaths...

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I was reading a girl's magazine the other day, one where my birth year no longer features in the surveys, and I noticed something a little disturbing ... if you judged today's women by those magazines, apparently all we're interested in is "The Perfect Way to Pluck Your Eyebrows" or "Water Retention, The Undiscussed Curse".

It's official, we've finally figured out a way to bring the human race to a crashing halt. We tried large-scale disease and pestilence, pollution, and destruction of the ozone layer, but none of them seemed to stick. So, finally, we've come up with a new approach.

We're going to dumb ourselves to death.

Personally I think it's a conspiracy.  The powers that be are hoping that if they feed us this rubbish with no intellectual content our brain size will reduce, our IQ's will decrease, and eventually we won't be able to take care of ourselves.

It's just another form of natural selection. Survival of the fittest.

I suppose it could have it's advantages. Once all those intellectually deprived people have been "disposed of", we'll be left with a population of smart, worldly, well informed human beings who don't believe a person's ability to apply mascara while driving to work is an accurate way to measure their usefulness to society.

Oh, I can hear what you're thinking. "She was reading the magazine. Isn't she talking about herself?" But I was just reading it to see how stupid and useless it was. It's not like I was really buying it to see what the latest shades of eye shadow are.

Honestly, I wasn't!

The only way I'd believe it works is if they put crack in it...

Source

Apparently there's a new dieting aide on the market kids, and it requires next to no effort from the user so you just know it's going to be popular!

Maybe not effective, but definitely popular.

So has anyone else read about this new dieting perfume [link]?  According to the sales pitch, you spray it on and it suppresses your appetite, boosts your metabolism and improves your mood.  That's an awful lot for one little bottle of smelly stuff, isn't it.

They claim that their combination of different herbs will help you to lose weight while you sniff.  Yeah, there's something else out there that you can sniff that'll help you lose weight, but I wouldn't necessarily recommend cocaine to get rid of those extra kilos either.

It seems like every time we turn around there's another snake oil merchant trying to convince us they've found the ideal solution to all our tubby woes.  Take this pill, sniff that perfume, eat that rhino placenta, and soon you'll be a perfect size 8 with perky breasts and a butt that won't quit.

I don't know, does anyone else miss the old days of weight loss scams?  Sure, swallowing tape worms or having a nice soothing cigarette might kill you, but at least they had some real measurable success!

But maybe I'm being a bit harsh.  I don't really know the science behind the new scent, maybe it's perfectly legitimate and people will be wasting away before our very eyes ... but I doubt it.

If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that if it seems to be too good to be true, you can bet your little cotton socks that it is.

A pair of double D's does not a model make...

You know that plastic surgery I was talking about saving up for the other day?  Turns out there's no need.  If I go and tell a doctor that my crows feet are causing severe emotional distress and my wrinkles are plunging me into fits of depression, I can probably get a face lift on the public dime.

Or at least that's what I'm led to believe based on this article about a Yorkshire woman who convinced a doctor to let her get a boob job through the public health system by bursting into tears in his office and telling him that her A cups were ruining her life.

Yeah, I couldn't believe it either.

Now I'm a huge supporter of public health systems.  I believe that everyone should have access to medical assistance when they need it, regardless of whether they can pay.  And I know that sometimes cosmetic procedures are important if the person's quality of life is affected by certain aspects of their appearance.  But when some twenty two year old decides that she needs a boob job because she wants to be the next Katie Price (her words, not mine), I hardly think that fits under the definition of necessary medical attention!

Apparently this girl is so happy with the results of her surgery that she went out and got brown highlights in her hair, started collecting Louis Vuitton bags, and has bought herself one of those awful little yappy dogs that I'm always tempted to kick.  Oh yeah, she really sounds like she's got her priorities sorted.

She didn't even have the grace to keep up the appearance of it being purely about correcting what she claimed as a serious physical malformity!  Oh no, instead she just went on and on about how she was going to leave her two kids, aged five and two, with her parents so she can go to London and try to become a model.

Oh sweetheart ... if all it took to be a model was a pair of double D's, I'd be a model.  But I ain't, and it's unlikely you will be either.