PR Idea of the Week

Part of the crazy life I am sharing here are my experiences in corporate America as a public relations person (or flack, to be self-deprecating). Because I enjoy having health insurance and feeding my kids, I think it best not to do anything to get myself dooced.

So today I present the first of an ongoing series titled, "PR Idea of the Week." This first distinguished honor goes to the Oregon Urology Institute.

Up until today, being the PR person for the Oregon Urology Institute could not have been a glamorous position, mostly discussions of bladders, urethra's, perhaps. Let's imagine for a moment what must have happened behind the scenes:

Vice President: Let's promote our solutions in the male sterilization vertical
Marketing guy: That booth we had at the gun & knife show didn't work out so well, so we'll need a new idea. Maybe something with less interaction--radio!
Non-glamorous PR person: [speaking under his breath] I really wish I could do PR for something more interesting like the NCAA. I need to get away from this place. What's a medical excuse I can use to stay home for a couple of days?

Whenever I think I have a tough job. I'm going to remember the intrepid people of the Oregon Urology Institute who took a cringe-worthy procedure, tied it to a seasonal event and made big news.

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Happily Ever After

Last weekend, in a brief moment of remote control ownership, I tuned into basic cable and saw a very disturbing show called "Rich Bride, Poor Bride." I watched two episodes and didn't see what I would call a "poor" bride--although actually, after they blew their budgets, both brides probably did end up poor. One couple spent about $75,000. They talked her out of having live peacocks at the reception.

That makes me think about my own much simpler but very nice-for-Farmersville wedding over a decade ago. In many ways it was a disaster.

We were engaged for a year and a half; we had plenty of time to plan but fates conspired against us.

By the time we got to the week of the wedding, we had buried two people on the guest list and paid our respects to a distant uncle. One of the people we lost was my husband's grandfather who died Monday, we had visitation Wednesday, funeral Thursday, rehearsal dinner Friday, wedding Saturday. How his grandmother handled it is beyo…

Weekend Plans Cut Short

I haven't been at my current job long enough yet, apparently, because people still make the mistake of asking me what are you doing this weekend? I say that it is a mistake to ask me about my weekend plans because that question is supposed to be followed with an ordinary answer like going to see a movie or yardwork.
But when you ask me about my weekend plans, you're likely to get an answer like this: well, we'll be pretty busy getting ready for our pig auction. Husband has to give haircuts to 100+ pigs.
Yes, you read that right. Pigs get haircuts. Husband is grooming them for the pig auction (we call it a sale) that we are having on Saturday. In the market for a pig? Head over here.
Pigs have short, coarse hair that in days of old was used to make brushes (and maybe still today). Husband and other pig farmers clip the hair of the pigs shorter to make them look more appealing to potential buyers, who in this case are 4-H kids and parents looking for a hog to take to the count…

Rejected by Nancy Cartwright

Every two years the nationally renowned Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop is held here in Dayton. The event typically sells out in hours, but one way to gain entry is to enter the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition--there is even a category for local writers.

Several of my local friends who are great bloggers and hilarious Facebook commenters have been talking smack about winning this thing since we were all shut out two years ago by booger stories.

Nancy Cartwright, Dayton native and the the voice of Bart Simpson, judged the finalists this year. Apparently, she did not like my entry.

Recently, famous blogger and author Jenny Lawson shared an article she had written that was rejected by Oprah's magazine. So, inspired by her, I will share my article that I'm sure made it all the way to Nancy [it did not] and then was rejected for not being about boogers or port-a-johns.

Check out "All the Dreeds of Pigs" in a future post on this blog.

Bringing Home the Bacon

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