Little Miss Crabby Pants

Whoa Anna … looks like someone has their crabby pants on. Let’s just step back, take a deep breath and try to put on a happy face. Look, I’m not sure if you’re just not pleased with your chosen profession or the market is starting to feel like a little over-weight pool boy pulling your fingernails out with a dull needle-noose pliers, one at a time? Either way, it appears that career change may be in order.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to tell you what to do. I mean, you look like you could hold me down by the neck with a triple-leg lock tummy fold followed by a ten minute session of noogies, only stopping when the crown of my head is as red as a monkeys butt. No thank you.

Now, here’s another theory: you’re just a sweetheart, convinced by some over-worked, over-paid, under-skilled ad exec to play the role of real estate bitch. And, if that’s the case … well, it’s genius. Got me. I actually thought that you wanted to kick my … but you … then I … HA. You’re good Anna, real good. The heavenly gates of gold nominations have just opened up and guess what? There you are. MAUH! MAUH!

Just in case my theory isn’t 100% correct, let me just say that the black one piece jumpsuit looks lovely and … I bruise easy.

Wanted: Lunatic stark raving mad fans that are willing to run naked in public forums, paint their faces with Real”ad”tor pride, scream puns at the top of their lungs and beat the crap out of the arch rival fans. If this sounds like you, click here.
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Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

Oh, Steven. Steven, Steven, Steven … what are we going to do with you? I’m not a suit expert, but unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, that appears to be a three-button classic Ralph Lauren $3,995 suit, tailored in Italy from extra-fine wool, with a lean silhouette, slightly shortened rise and narrowed lapels, designed to flatter the ladies with a streamlined fit. But, then again, what do I know?

So, why don’t you have that puppy bagged? Wait … don’t tell me, I already know the answer. When you’re money, material possessions don’t matter.

Look, I get the whole “I won’t out-dress you” bit, but c’mon. A man with such exquisite taste in men’s wear? The stonewashed jean look didn’t fool me.

I’ll admit, the bitchin’ “half-hand in the tight-fit pocket” and mullet had me going for awhile. He’s just a good ‘ole boy, right? Yeah, nice try. Once I caught a glimpse of that lapel, I knew exactly what we were dealing with.

Well played Steven, well played. In addition to stealing a few laughs from your biggest fan, you’ve also stolen the coveted gold nomination. You are one smooth criminal my friend.

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Snow Day

Guess who? Well, if you guessed an outrageously witty and super smart real estate team from Iowa … you’re absolutely correct. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Doyle and Devoe — you complete me. I mean, aren’t they exactly what the real estate advertising world needs? Better yet, aren’t they exactly what WE need? The answer is an unequivocal “yes” people. YES.

This scene reminds me of a story. When I was just a little runt (when peeing in the snow was a favorite pastime), I’d often gather with my friends at our local sledding hill for a day of fun (D&D knows what I’m talking about). We’d start in the morning and finish when our moon boots froze over. On one particular outing, I was feeling rather confident in my ability to control the sleek dog sled. Rather than lie in the standard tummy position, I chose to be a hotdogger (much like little Mrs. Sunshine in the pink headband) and ride in the hang-five position. Considering this was pre-snowboarding, I thought the idea was quite innovative. I was wrong.

Look, not a year goes by and I hear about some kid, on some hill … well, it’s enough to make me sick. Moral of the story? Ride low and go slow. Yes — I know, I know. “Well, Doyle and Devoe are standing up on their sleds, why can’t I?” While that might be true, they’re professionals. There should have been a disclaimer. Shame on them.

D&D, I know exactly where I’m heading. I’m throwing on my long-johns, hopping on the toboggan and meeting you guys in the chalet. I’ve stuffed a little something gold in my snow pants that I’m just dying to show you.

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Apples, apples, one, two, three. Apples for you. Apples for me.

Here are just a few of my favorite apple delights: apple pie, apple cider, apple cobbler, apple sauce, apple martinis and now … Donna Apple. Maybe it’s her straightforward approach to branding. Can you blame her? When you’ve been blessed with a last name like Apple, you want to make sure the world doesn’t miss it. I mean, if my last name was iPhone, you bet your ass you’d find my big mug, smack dab on the screen. We get it Donna and we appreciate you connecting the dots for us.

Donna also appears to know a thing or two about the proper use of color. Besides the beautiful smorgasbord of nearly every primary color, Donna knew just the right shades of apple green and fall yellow to further remind us of her incredible namesake.

We’ve reserved a table a Baker’s Square so we can enjoy some apple crisp as we present you will an all-new red nomination. Only kidding, we’re givin’ ya gold.

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Turn Your Frown Upside Down

I’ll level with you folks, with a lack of solid submissions lately, I was almost beginning to believe that the economy finally had its way with real”ad”tor hopefuls. Of course, it’s without saying, I was deeply saddened by the thought of them upgrading to that next level of careers — insurance, multi-level marketing, affiliate marketing and so on. Just as I was ready to give up hope, Toni blessed me with a reason to hang-on.

Her formula was simple: Item – Modify – Picture – Rotate = 180. Done! This upside-down visual piece of trickery is what we call the sleeping bat technique. At first glance it goes virtually unnoticed, than, all of a sudden you see it, and it scares the bejesus out of you.

For the record Toni, you — and her little right-side up Remax ballon — scare me. But, you renewed my faith and for that, you get gold.

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Tell Death Do Them Part

Hey Lady, please release your full nelson and step away from the gentleman in tech support. Good god, the poor man is in grimacing pain.

Gotcha! I’m kidding of course, you guys are A.D.O.R.A.B.L.E. But, let’s be honest, that level of adorability doesn’t just happen by accident? I’m not going to pretend for a moment that it wasn’t planned that way. Obviously, you two are advertising gods first, real-estate agents second. Folks, observe this ad in great detail and live this rule of advertising: if you want to find the way to the buyers heart, you tug on their heart strings. And, nobody does that better than team G. Mullis. In fact, they practically wrote the book.

This little chunk of brilliancy is rounded out with a few choice headlines that ignore the annoying use of punctuation. Genius!

Gold.

Everyone, please do your part and hug a techie.

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Uncle Anthony Wants You!

The angels are looking down on us today folks. We’ve been blessed with yet another beauty from Little Italy’s own, Anthony Napoli.

Alright, I’ll admit … I bit nervous to give you anything less than gold. Not that you don’t deserve it — it’s just that your name is Tony, you live in Little Italy, you’re obviously very well-connected and you’re pointing at me like I’m next. I mean, I’m not an organized crime special agent or anything, but I’d say chances are good that you’re Remax office is in the back room of some Italian restaurant. Look, I’ve seen the Sapranos, I know how this works. I give you silver and you call in a favor. Next thing I know, my heads in a vise and I’m being forced to cough up a platinum nomination. No thank you!

Let me level with ya Tony. You’re good … really good. But, when I’m comparing you to Mr. Shuswap, Poker Jack and the rest of my gold nominees, you’re just ok. Give me a pun, show a little skin, I don’t know … just something more. That said and because of my will to live, I’m giving you gold anyway. Damn you.

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Bend Over Rover, Let Jeff Hughes Take Over

When Jeff Hughes says drop your … price, people say, “How much”. Why? Because Jeff has his finger(s) on the pulse of … well, everything! In fact, it appears that Dr. Feelgood has fingured (or, I mean figured) out the single most motivating factor in choosing a real estate agent — pain. Just looking at his ad makes me clench my cheeks so tight that I could crush granite with my sphincter.

But, to fully understand this ad, you first need to understand the story.

Although it appears that Mr. Hughes has a knack for Keister stabbing humor, he never intended for the ad to be funny. In fact, the original campaign was slated to run as a PSA. You see, several years ago, Jeff found himself in search of his very first home. As a naive first-time homebuyer, he’d recklessly visit open houses ALONE, without any knowledge of the neighborhood, market values, etc (hang-on, it gets worse). On one such occasion, the unspeakable occurred. As I understand it, Jeff was minding his own business, evaluating a property as usual. As he was on his hands and knees inspecting the levelness of the hardwood floors, he heard the sound of blue shoe covers shuffling close behind him. Before he could turn around to get a good look of the Century 21 culprit … BANG! Things went dark. Needless to say, Jeff felt an undesirable pressure to buy the home. Although his memories are vague, images of that terrifying encounter can only be found within his ads.

From that day forward, this sweetheart of a man has dedicated his life to making sure his message is heard (not felt).

We’re happy to see Keller Williams stand behind you (don’t bend over … only kidding) and your message Jeff. For your ad: it’s a gold nomination sealed with a kiss. For your courage: a pair of titanium superman undies. And, for your sanity: a Century 21 real estate agent voodoo doll, complete with blue shoe covers. Let him have it.

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Yo Adrian – Buy this damn house.

And in this corner, weighing in at a smooth 15 cribs sold per year, from deep in the projects of Queens, New York – the one – the only – David “The Ultimate Realtor” Dubon! The crowd is on their feet!

The crowd settles down and the fight begins. Round 1: Look at David work that phone, there’s a reason why he remains undefeated. He’s coming in for his first move … ouch … he threw the “If Size Matters … Then Look No Further”, that’s going to sting. Here he comes again, this time with “Knock-out Service and Results”. He’s relentless. Folks, this could be the win — “MTV Cribs comes to Queens” … K.O..

Ladies and Gentleman, by knock-out in the first round, the yet to be defeated and first-time gold Real”ad”tor nominated champion, David “The Ultimate Realtor” Dubon.

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Mystery Solved

So here’s the sitch: You’ve been scanning the daily listings for that perfect home and nothing seems to catch your stubborn eye. Out of the blue, you get an email from a random real estate agent (which clearly he got from some sneaky backdoor questionnaire). Regardless, you’re not upset by the blatant misuse of your email address because he just sent you the home you’ve been building with Lincoln Logs since you were only 5 years old. So, first thing the following day, you and the fam jump in the car to do a quick drive-by. Only, when you get the “supposed” address, the home is nowhere to be found. WHAT? Quite the pickle I’d say. If I were you, I’d call Century 21’s one and only … wait for it … Sherlock Homes (Get it? They’re so silly). But, this vice squad of investigative agents are legit, they’ll solve any real estate mystery you encounter (with magnifying glass in hand) . It’s about time!

So, how do you promote such a unique service? You do what any good Real”ad”tor award winner would do — you “borrow” some familiar imagery and viola — it’s gold. And, if that’s not enough for you, you ask your child to dress up like your mascot and take bring him in for a photo shoot. Warning though, he’ll more than likely have to fend off the droves of ladies going gaga over his celebrity. Small price to pay for a coveted gold nomination.

Mystery solved Karla Mink, thanks for the submission.

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