Oh, Build A Bear. I don’t really have anything against you. Although I’ve never actually stepped into your store and I’ve only heard the rumors of your overpriced do-it-yourself animal pelts and cotton balls, there is nothing truly to dislike. You’ve obviously got a good thing going for ya. The animals are cute and the accessories are crazy, all that shit kids like. I was even gifted an build-a-bear elephant a looooong time ago from a college friend to commemorate this guy we both had a crush on. And that’s special.
But I’m not telling THAT story.
Oh, YOU’VE DONE IT NOW.
This is about your Valentine’s Day commercial.
You know, the one where the mom and the daughter go in, stuff a bear covered in hearts, get a free Cody Simpson poster, whoever the @!#% that is, then in their car, mom asks who she just made that bear for and daughter replies “my best friend” while placing a card by the bear addressed to “Mom” and then scampers away, leaving mom to sob in the car by herself sans Kleenex and the carpool lane honking and road raging behind her.
They don’t show that part, but you know that’s what !@%!ing happened next.
It’s sweet. I get it.
But I can’t be the only one who thought it was inconsiderate that the daughter made the mom buy a fairly pricey stuffed animal that the mom probably wants nothing to do with, because really, what would a (normal) 40-something want with a stuffed heart printed bear which the girl probably wanted for herself and found the most underhanded and manipulative way to obtain it?
Right? RIGHT?! I mean, really. WTF.
If the mom and daughter went to pick out a special gift to celebrate their relationship and chose a bear to do so, fine. Cute, even! If the daughter literally wanted to buy a bear for her best friend OF THE SAME AGE, that’s cool, even though I never saw that sort of thing in my day. New Kids on the Block Valentine’s were as fancy as we got. And even if the daughter was like, “HEY MOM YOU SUCK AND YOU NEVER LET ME EAT CHICKEN NUGGETS AND YOU’RE OBSESSED WITH KALE AND IF YOU DON’T BUY ME THAT BEAR I’M CALLING CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES.”
I would %$^! love that version.
Alas. We get emotionally manipulative fifth grader with a penchant for expensive teddy bears.
A hug, a card, a page out of a coloring book, shit, a teddy bear from Wal-Fucking-Mart would have said the same damn thing. Only cheaper. And less shrewd.
“Hey, Mom. You’re the best. You’re like my best friend. Thanks for buying me an expensive teddy bear. I’m gonna go brag about you and show off my new bear to all my friends!”
THAT’S ALL YOU NEEDED TO SAY TO GET YOUR GOD DAMN TEDDY BEAR. AND STILL MAKE YOUR MOM SOB IN THE DROP-OFF LANE.
Ugh.
I’ve done the commercial diatribe before. And apparently, not going to end any time soon. Oh, advertising. I can’t quit you.
What commercials annoy the shit outta you?
Dear #$&!% Baby 