By Jillian Benedict

Heres the scenario my husband Joe and I come inside the house from a nice outdoor dinner. My fat, lazy cat, Gracie Jo, is scrambling with a teeny mouse. Shes torturing it and we know that she will eat it, since we already found the remains of another in the den.

Long story slightly shorter, we lock Gracie in the bathroom and Joe goes to pick up the tiny mouse, now lying on his back with his little paws in the air, apparently dead. Key word being apparently. As soon as Joe is about to grab him, he runs.

We try to push him out the door. Hes scared. Im sad. Gracies POed. Joe is laughing. The attempts to get him outside fail. Then I realize just how little this little guy actually is. Hes definitely too small to make it in our cat-laden neighborhood. What other option did we have? We kept him.

Please keep in mind that at no point did we actually touch him. Although he is so cute, I want to just snuggle up to him. And, he walked right up to me and got in the jar I used to get him.

So now, Burt Reynolds Benedict, named for his fine acting skills, has a home in our 10-gallon fish tank (sans the water, of course). My enabler of a husband built a kitty-proof top so he can breathe easy without being harassed. He is enjoying his water, peanut butter and crackers and toilet paper rolls.

The question is am I gross? Is it disgusting to have this cute little vermin in our house? My esteemed colleague, Mike Gluck, asked, What if he gets out? Well, Gracie proved her worth once again as Burts mother was found massacred the next morning.

Joe and I feel this is the most humane thing to do for this poor little orphan mouse. What do you think?

Sidebar: Obviously we have a mouse problem, but it seems we have an exterminator problem as ours comes every couple of months, including very recently. Hmmmm

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By Jillian Benedict

If living in the real world has taught me anything, it’s to watch TV as you get ready in the morning. Especially if you work in advertising.

Without my morning show, and subsequent commercials, I would not have had the experience of seeing two very well-known brands use the same tagline for a short period of time.

I first saw it for Carnival Cruise Lines. All for fun. Fun for all. It fit perfectly with the campaign. Talking about how something special happens when you cross over from land to sea. And when you get your first at-sea water wedgy. (Classic line, by the way.) The tagline seems to really grasp what happens when you take your family on a cruise.

Imagine my surprise when I saw the same exact tagline – right down to the punctuation – for another well-known brand the very next week. This time, I was confused by it. I’m not sure how it relates to the used-to-be-popular-but-now-not-so-much Pop-Tarts, but alas, they were using it. After describing the one trillion or so flavors you can get with Pop-Tarts, the familiar tagline popped up. Weird. Pop-Tarts – or breakfast for that matter – are not fun. I don’t care who you are. Kudos to them for trying to change that, but just saying your product is “fun” doesn’t necessarily make it true.

Since the two brands had essentially the same media buy, something needed to change. I wish I had been behind the scenes in each agency, scrambling to make it right. In the end, I now see that Pop-Tarts has a new tagline. And can you believe it, I can’t recall what it is.

Sidebar: Hey Pop-Tarts, if you need a good agency that’s on strategy, I know of one.

By Jillian Benedict

The boys are staying strong and hoping their dedication will pay off. Grow Sabres!

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By Jillian Benedict

Does it get any better than playoff hockey? I think not. And since I can barely remember what playoff football feels like in this town, why not hop aboard the Sabres bandwagon?

That’s just what we’re doing over at TMG. Well, I can’t say we’re getting on the bandwagon – most of us have always been on it. We’re die-hard like that.
So, in honor of our beloved hockey team, a handful of Groupies have decided to show their team spirit by growing the much talked about playoff beard. Check back weekly (as long as the Sabres don’t blow it) and watch these chi-chi-Chia Pets grow.

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By Jillian Benedict

What if your last name was Bacon? Would you be hungry every time you saw your own name? Would your mouth water when you thought of yourself?

But what if you hated bacon? (I know, who would actually hate the most delicious thing in the world?) Would you be repulsed at the mere thought of yourself?

These things keep me up at night.

By Jillian Benedict

Tactful isn’t a word most would use when describing me, but I just have to call out NBC and its competitors who showed an actual human being die. When did we become so desensitized to death that we can watch – over and over again, in slow motion and real-time – a hopeful young adult meet his death? I have to say I was appalled by this footage when I sat down with friends for the opening ceremonies.

When we first got word of the accident on Friday, some colleagues scoured the Internet to find the video. Somehow, all links were shut down. I praised the Olympic committee. While I know many are curious, I had no desire to see the footage and immediately thought of what would happen if Nodar Kumaritashvili’s parents saw it.

Hours later, I sit down with friends – including a child – to watch history being made. Little did we know, that history we witnessed was networks showing never-been-seen details of the crash. I’m sure most of you have seen it, so I’ll spare you the details of the most sickening, saddest parts that unfolded before us. Unreal.

It would have been best for NBC to use some tact, but of course, ratings are the name of the game. Who cares about human life and emotions? My heart aches for Nodar Kumaritashvili, his family, teammates and friends. Rest in peace.