Of Words Not Written
I’ve had a slow period in the blogosphere the last couple of days, a forced retreat due to the constant swinging from vine to vine in the ad jungle.
Despite being hella-busy, the week was at least capped off in high style last night with a dinner at Abacus with the She Monkey, her mother and her company’s CFO, who invited me along to celebrate the recently completed, full retirement of their corporate debt. A good time was had by all, and I expect to be fully functional for my regular poker game this evening.
I came this close to writing up a thinly veiled account of the last few days’ experiences with a particular client (or, rather, the last few months’ experiences as the last two days have seen a hectic, helter-skelter conclusion to an assignment that’s been four months in the making), but prudent self-interest prevents it.
Oh well. It will just have to wait, like my story about Jimmy Dean, until the client is a distant memory.
Besides, I wouldn’t want to imply to any up-and-coming young ad monkeys out there that ours is an industry that’s anything other than a blissful echo of Eden where bananas are plentiful and the other monkeys in the jungle ever so eager to help pick fleas out of your fur.
Right.
Email Article Saturday, April 22nd, 2006 at 12:27pm Mack Simpson
Filed under: Ad Jungle, No Really, A Life, Ad Nauseam | add this post to del.icio.us
2 Comments Add your own
1. makethelogobigger | April 22nd, 2006 at 3:20 pm
ooo…oooo…oooo…eeeee…eeeee…eeeee.*
*Nodding in agreement feverishly like a straight-jacket candidate.
Damn, I can never quite seem to come up with a decent phonetic monkey sound.
[ :– ]
2. Mack Simpson | April 22nd, 2006 at 5:00 pm
Mack tosses a banana in Bill’s general direction and ever so slowly backs out of the room.
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