Girl stuff

I’m a girl…chick, whatever. At 53, I think I’m still about 25.  (That was a GREAT year!)  But other women? Most are just plain mean. (I said, MOST) Bitchy. Backstabbing. Judgmental. Talk behind your back and smile to your face. Borrow money and never pay it back.  I’ve been burned more often than not by women who were supposed to my friends. (Pam? Geri? Are you reading this?)   Yeah, I have trust issues and they run deep…all the way back to mom.

But it’s the ladies who are the coveted target of virtually every ad message we create.  We make all the decisions, rule the roost, and decide when our man is gonna have his PSA level checked. We’re the keeper of the poontang, the Queen of our household.  If Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.  You get the idea.

There are several good sites/blogs I’ve discovered for, by and about my gender.  I’m more of glorified tom-boy, not much of a girlie-girl, (and yes, I have a very tolerant boyfriend) so some of these sites hold little interest for me. (Like, why is the entire site pink, for God’s Sake.)  There are a jillion sites out there touting their female-centered content,  BUT…you have to understand your customer. (I don’t want to have a conversation with them, I just want to understand what they need to hear to get them to buy my clients stuff.)  Some of these are pretty insightful with valuable content that helps understand the female gender, some are written by women about advertising and other stuff. There are too many to list, but here are a few. Don’t let the estrogen scare you.

Womenkind

Adfemme

Creative skirts

Lip-sticking

In Women We Trust

Sheconomy

Mamapalooza

Daily Obessional

Ad Broad

Catch Up Lady

Careful…she’s in a mood.images-1

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One Response to “Girl stuff”

  1. Teenie Says:

    Thanks, adchick! Women do indeed rule the roost.

    I went with the hubby to buy a suit yesterday, and the old-school salesman didn’t get that he had to sell the suit to ME. Hubby tries it on and turns to me, because hubby couldn’t care less if he was wearing a potato sack or an Armani. But the surly salesman kept pointing out gawd-awful pleated pants and ties from 1985. So, with only the jacket I first picked out when we walked in an hour before, we left.

    My Dad is in his mid-60s, and I love him to death, but he still thinks women need to be protected from all the badness of the world. I don’t think he quite realizes that my Mom has always let him harbour the illusion that he’s the one in charge. The difference today is that we’re not afraid to tell the other half we’re officially the boss.

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