It’s no secret that I’m more than a little obsessed with pop culture. I’m ok with the fact that I can spout off the names of all the Jolie/Pitt babies but I don’t know my kid’s social security number. I don’t mind that I can sing most any pop song recorded from 1974-2000 but I can’t remember what I wore yesterday. However, there are a few things I’d like to purge from my brain, including but not limited to every tune from the “Cocktail” soundtrack, a few tipsy evenings over the years and the entire existence of Jon and Kate Gosselin.

Hey! Have you heard that Jon and Kate have onetwothreefourfivesixsevenEIGHT kids? Didja know that Kate is super bitchy and has a reverse mullet? Maybe you’ve read that Jon is a cheater, cheater birthday cake eater…how does this enhance our lives at all? I’m putting my money on the fact that it doesn’t. Not even a teeny tiny bit. In fact, I can feel my brain cells committing suicide as I write this.

So nobody was surprised when the Gosselins announced that they would be divorcing. The mister had already been photographed a few dozen times with his young lady friend, and had even jetted away to Utah for a weekend of skiing and who knows what else, where he was-you guessed it-snapped sitting in the VIP area of a media-covered event with “the other woman.” On his wife’s birthday. Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

I read over the weekend that Ed Hardy designer Christian Audigier was now Jon’s BFF and they had met up on Audigier’s yacht in St. Tropez in the French Riviera to discuss a possible children’s clothing line (the new girlfriend was along for the ride; she’s the daughter of the doc that did dear ol’ Kate’s tummy tuck). According to People Magazine: “Audigier tells PEOPLE that he approached Gosselin with the idea after noticing that the reality show dad often wore his tattoo-inspired T-shirts on Jon and Kate Plus Eight. “He’s huge,” says the French designer, who may also collaborate with Gosselin on a specialty motorcycle collection. “Everyone knows this family. And everyone will know our clothes. They’ll be fun, easy clothes for kids.”

I would like to go on record saying that this is a really, really dumb idea.

The dude has no apparel experience other than wearing clothes. He’s not plugged into the world of childrenswear (last time I checked the children were ALWAYS dressed alike, mostly courtesy of Gymboree, which is about as far from Ed Hardy as you can get). He’s dopey and mumbly. And he has very questionable taste, to say the least.

The latest report from Audigier’s rep says the line isn’t really happening, despite the fact that they seemed pretty cozy just a few days ago. Maybe someone was smart enough to stand up at the Monday morning staff meeting and threaten to go on a hunger strike if they hired a guy who’s biggest claim to fame is that he spawned a bunch of kids and then exploited them on television. Maybe someone realized that having the marble-mouthed public adulterer as a brand ambassador is a no-no. Or maybe Gosselin’s asking price was too high. Who knows. For the love of tattooed-inspired tee shirts, phone accessories, trucker caps and bottled water, keep that man away from the cameras. And your college-age daughters.

The time was 1987. The place; Somerset, KY. I was a 13 year old dork with braces, an Olgilvie Home Perm and a few crazy dreams…

One of my dreams was to marry Ricky Schroder. We’d move to Hollywood and shack up in that swell mansion he lived in on “Silver Spoons.” Another was to publish a best-selling novel. Never mind that I had no idea what I wanted to write about. But the dream that seemed the most doable was the dream of being on the Canadian hit “Degrassi Junior High.”

Degrassi was a soap opera for kids. It was your typical “After School Special” fare, which then spun off into “Degrassi High.” There I learned what to do in case of date rape, teenage pregnancy, parental death and the development of an eating disorder. Thanks, guys!

The thing I liked best about the Degrassi empire (I’m now totally caught up on Degrassi: The Next Generation, now airing on The N) was that they never dumbed it down for teenagers. Young people aren’t dumb; they just act like it sometimes (and uh, so do adults). They can tell when they’re being treated like idiots. Now that I’m a mom I try to take the same approach. My 11 and 8 year olds aren’t ready to hear about abortion but you better believe they know how a baby is made – and how to keep that from happening. The creators and writers of Degrassi respected their audience and as a result, 35 year old chicks such as myself are still watching, all these years later. Their brand works. And yes, I’m still holding out hope that one day I’ll get my showbiz break in the halls of Degrassi Community School. Linda Schuyler and Stephen Stohn, I’m ready for my close up…

It’s a terribly long, dull drive down I-95 from Philadelphia to Murrells Inlet, SC. A “let’s leave at 5:30 am and drive all day by myself with my two kids,” kind of drive. The landscape is dotted by countless Cracker Barrels, truck stops, surly State Troopers and the occasional outlet mall. Oh, and a couple of billboards for this low-key joint called “South of the Border” that’s totally trying to fly under the radar…

Those guys at South of the Border must have really taken the whole Rule of Repetition Marketing to heart. Never heard of South of the Border, which lies right on the North Carolina/South Carolina line? Then clearly you’ve never made the trip down to what has been occasionally referred to as “The Redneck Riviera.” (See, my parents live down here so I can joke about that. It’s like someone insulting your spouse; you can say whatever you want but a pox upon anyone who dares to utter an unkind word about your lovie. But I digress…)

Starting about 175 miles away, strange and slightly surreal neon-colored billboards dominate the sides of 95 advertising a mini universe of tacky tee-shirt shacks, an ice cream parlor, restaurants, gas stations and my favorite, “The Dirty Old Man Shop.” The fictitious host of this mish-moshed place is a character called Pedro, who, up until 1997, was such a racist stereotype that I’m amazed that they were allowed to remain as long as they did. In 1993, the Mexican Embassy complained about the billboards in a letter to South of the Border owner Alan Schafer. His response was to suggest the embassy consider the $1.5 million in merchandise he imports from Mexico each year. In a statement to The Raleigh News and Observer, Schafer stated “We have to communicate with the present generation — these baby boomers do not have a sense of humor.” You stay classy, Mr. Schafer!

Our pal Pedro is still the affable guide to all the tourist poo you’ll ever need, but he’s a kinder, more sensitive Pedro than he was before. With taglines such as “Pedro’s Weather Forecast: Chili today, hot tamale!” and “You Never Sausage a Place! (You’re Always a Wiener at Pedro’s!),” these ads aren’t exactly going to win you over based on their original copy or groundbreaking delivery methods. However, you sure as hell aren’t going to drive by Exit 1 without noticing the 165-ft. tall Sombrero Tower, and I’d bet my allowance on the fact that they don’t get everyone in the car assessing their need for fireworks and tequila. Are the South of the Border billboards annoying? Oh yeah. Did they achieve what they set out to do, which, I’m assuming, is build brand recognition?

Pedro and I both agree: without a doubt, the answer is sí.

Repetition works for them, but does it work for your brand? Are your customers tuning your message out unless you slap them in the head with it at least 100 times, or will they slap you if you even think of trying? Unless you’re paying close attention to exactly what people are saying about the way you speak to them, you have no serious way of knowing if all those ad dollars are being well spent. Statistics and impressions are one thing, but nothing will ever take the place of getting the scoop straight from the source. And what’s a solid way to find out what the word on the street is? Social media monitoring.

But we’ll get to that later. These Roman Candles and sparklers aren’t going to light themselves.