There is a local diamond/jewelry center around town who loves to advertise on the radio station I listen to. So I’ve been hearing the ad progression for about a year and a half now.
They started with…I remember when I was young, and was looked down at for not having a lot of money for a diamond ring. I will never make you feel like that. You are special.
Awwwwww. Props for talking to the boys. Quality, not size. (Yes, the automatic “size” joke crossed my mind but I’m not going there. At least not today.) See, this is their ad strategery, talking to you. We’re in this together mate, I can help a brother out YO! And then he started talking to the ladies. Yup, little ole me.
It was subtle at first…ladies, you deserve the best. Bring him to our home and we’ll give you the best. Awwwww, he really cares that I have the best. That’s so sweet! It’s like we’re the only two in the room having a private conversation. That’s what the ad agency you went with told you, yes?
We’ve quickly evolved to down and out mind control. SRSLY. The commercial I just heard (I shit you not, as I write this, another commercial has popped up) has this kind old man on the radio telling me that if my man DOESN’T go to Kessler’s diamond for an engagement ring? He doesn’t love me. Yup. Kesslers means love. If you don’t have a Kessler, he doesn’t love you. ME? But I don’t have a Kessler…but the Bigg guy says he loves me??? I’m so confused!!!! I’m questioning everything about our relationship now. Well, not our mutual love for McBob’s Highlander Burgers BUT EVERYTHING ELSE!!!!
What! The! Fuck! Are we so stupid that we buy into a local ad campaign that something so meaningless represents love? SRSLY. Ok, yes, I think diamond rings are beautiful, I enjoy my diamond that I had reset after my divorce. (BTW, my ex didn’t get a Kessler diamond, I guess I see where we went wrong.) They’re sparkly and pretty and in all reality, probably make us gals sit a little straighter when we’re sporting them. That’s fine. Bigg’s mum lost her wedding diamond at a Bears game earlier this fall. That made me sad, her too. But now she has a new one set that makes her happy and me too and I kick myself every single time I leave her place because I forget to ask to see it! Every. Time. Diamonds are fun. FUN. **update, since I’ve written this, I saw Bigg’s mum’s diamond. It’s a beaut!
Not love. Not a girls best friend. Not a depth gauge as to how much my bigg guy loves me. It’s a thing. A stone. That’s all. It’s like saying you can get hugs from food…no you can’t. Shut up. You can’t get love from diamonds. Hey Kesslers? Shut up!
The commercial I mentioned above is a new one. A Christmas engagement ring with three diamonds. Cuz, ya know, one diamond is ghetto. Don’t be ghetto. (Where’s THAT diamond commercial? I’d actually GO to that store.) At the end of it, and you really won’t want to believe this but it’s true, the kind old man says in his warm voice, “Merry Christmas, we love you.”
I nearly choked. You LOVE ME? Bitch please, you don’t even know me. I gave the radio a look that’s a mixture of ‘what’chu talking about Willis’ and ‘WTF!!!!’ Here are a couple of their tag lines…
Give her a Princess…and guess what that makes you?
With a choice like this…you’ll BOTH live happily ever after.
Dear Kesslers diamond, you don’t know me. Shut up. I don’t love you back. Shut up. I’m not so stupid that I allow you to talk me into the fact that keeping you in business is my man’s obligation or else he doesn’t love me. Shut up. Not only will I NOT ever take part in keeping you in business, I will do my darndest to spread the word that your ad campaign is full of shit. Dear old guy talking (could be Mr. Kessler himself, I don’t care), stop trying to tell me my guy doesn’t love me if he doesn’t by your diamond. You’re wrong. You’re offensive and you’re wrong. Your ad agency lied, you don’t come across as warm and “loving.” You come across as desperate, so desperate to make a sale that you try to bully someone into it. Fok off.
Really want to show your girl you love her? Make her a different tasty meal once a week; pick up your socks; build her a kickass gym in the garage; give her lots of hugs and oh, try this one…tell her you love her. Duh. Oh wait, my guy already does this stuff. So he DOES love me! And we didn’t even need to go to the dipshit Kesslers store to prove it!! Ok, less confused. All is well.
I have never hated a man enough to give his diamonds back.
Zsa Zsa Gabor
