As a general rule, we do not take trips to the beach. This may prompt you to ask us, “Then why wear thong bikinis and Speedos to work every day, Wexley?” And we would humbly respond, “Would you drape a towel over a Van Gogh?” And you would have no response. Then we would decide to celebrate your defeat with a trip to the beach. You would then be thinking of new questions like, “You said you didn’t take trips to the beach. What’s up with that, Wexley?” And we would explain to you that we avoid the beach for obvious reasons, like sand, and water, and how they mix together and create sexy little smudges of dirt on our upper thighs that money-grubbing mermaids would shamelessly photograph and sell online. And the mermaid rush would cause the ocean to lower half an inch and lead scientists to think we reversed global warming. And then they would want to have sex with our minds. And the crazy jealous mermaids would fight the scientists for our attention, not knowing we have purposefully avoided mermaids ever since the last one we hung out with broke into our sperm bank and stole our genetics. But as we said, this is a “general” rule, meaning we “generally” don’t go to the beach. But we also “generally” don’t take this much out of our beach time to have hypothetical conversations with people who aren’t even attractive. So anyway, we took a trip to the beach last Friday, and a collection of Puerto Rican sharks wearing leather chaps began a water performance of  West Side Story. So we climbed off our sand castle constructed entirely of white sand imported from the Phong Nha-Ke Bang National Park and showed those sharks how real men perform musicals. And our prize for best performance was a collection of all the pearls from the ocean floor. But we hate pearls, because they cover up our awesome clavicles. And that’s why we don’t take trips to the beach.

Well, while we were thinking about whether or not we would go to AdBash, Seattle’s premier advertising party, a certain amount of awesome fell into our collective laps. We noticed a discrepancy on the invitation: it reads, “$40 at the door (unless you’re smokin’ hot).”

Well, Adbash, thank you very much. Wexley is smokin’ hot so we are guessing we will be comped! Totally free. So we’ll see you there. We’ll walk right in. We’ll pay for booze or whatever, unless that’s free for hot people too. We’ll mingle and have to brush off the ugly people. We’ll all probably make out in the corner with ourselves. Then we will all probably throw up sometime late in the night and go home and watch Ice Road Truckers on the History Channel. But thank you in advance for letting the agency in for free. You rock, Adbash!

Wexley.

Doug Froutos
B.A.S.E. Jumper

Somewhere inside most of us is a basic animal instinct to survive, a primal tendency toward self-preservation. And there there’s those guys — the ones who throw themselves off buildings, and bridges, rock outcroppings and cell phone towers. Who are these people!?

Well, Doug is one of those people, and he came by Wexley a few weeks back to talk about what it’s like to fall, really fast. About the natural evolution of the BASE sport, the underground percolation and spread of it, the innovation of designs and techniques being shared across the globe. And, perhaps most importantly, the things you need to know in order to survive and live to fall (really fast!) another day.

Doug brought his gear with him and first took some time to explain the physics and mathematical realities of falling through the air. And then, just to make everyone squirm in their seats and feel really uncomfy, he showcased some incredible footage of insane jumps from fjords in Scandinavia.

He left us all inspired, a little bit breathless, and feeling like maybe Wexley wasn’t the craziest thing on the planet after all.

Ian Cohen held his weekly office hour today, as scheduled, at 1:00pm Pacific Time.

“It went really well,” Cohen explained. “No one came by, so I kind of sat there and just listened to the Decemberists, Adam Ant, Juno, RUSH, LL Cool J, some Beasties, Beck and a few other songs. I also wrote my mother and wondered if I was going to be able to fit into my suit for Jamie’s wedding this weekend.”

Tuesdays are Cohen’s office hour day. “I picked Tuesdays because of the whole ‘Two fer Tuesdays’ theme. Of course, I only offer one hour for my office hour, but whatever.”

Thursday is Cal McAllister’s office hour day at Wexley. Cal explains, “Thursdays are great. I picked Thursday because it was one day after hump day, so people get that out of their systems and are ready to meet and talk.”

Together, McAllister and Cohen offer a total of two office hours a week. To date, they have only showed up for two of them, but so far so good. Art Director, Michelle Crum, croons over the new format. “It is so great to have the possibility of seeing Ian or Cal. Even though they haven’t been in their offices for more than half of the office hours, it’s nice to know they care enough just to think about having office hours.”

Cohen expands, “We feel that if we act like we care about our employees, they will act like they care back.” And it is Wexley’s great acting that really separates them from other places. That and their good looks, chiseled chests, strong jowls, magical medulla oblongatas and stuff.

Finally Wexley has done it. Finally! After exhausting its supply of living, breathing, sexy day-walking interns, Wexley has hired Brandon. A dead Brandon. Where did we find him? Beyond the grave! BWAHAHAHAHAHAH! (several loud peals of thunder)

Ok not really…but he did play a dead person in Pirates of the Caribbean III and in an episode of Bones. That’s right, Brandon double died. And it was mind-blowing. We don’t know how we did it, but we lured Brandon away from the luxurious lifestyle of an established F-list actor. Did you hear that Hollywood? Are you scared? You should be. We have Star Power now, and we’re going to use it to establish a fan base of screaming tweens and new accounts. You don’t believe us do you? Well we don’t believe you. Here’s proof unbelieving unbeliever:

Brandon about to feel the ropey sting of death in Pirates of the Caribbean III

Brandon and his brother, victims of murder and bad acting

Yup, Brandon died alright. So did his brother. You know someone is dead when David Boreanaz holds up a blurry photo of them. That’s prime-time dying. That’s supernatural talent. And that’s exactly what Wexley was looking for…that and a nice deli-fresh panini sandwich. There ain’t nothin’ like a piping hot ‘nini. MMMMMMmmmmmm. Brandon makes that sound after he bites people. Our skin itches…

Here it is. Just in time to kick off the New Year, a tour of our new office space. The architectural details are simple to get out of the way — about 7,000 square feet (US), which is like 10,000 kilograms if you are using the metric system. We have two stories, creating a dangerously fantastic two-layer cake of awesome.

There is a crew of contributors too long to mention, but the key players know who they are and we’ll see you in heaven when we get up there. We’ve elected to keep them anonymous for fear of someone else encroaching on our quality time, but if you really really really need to know because you are putting in a back deck or even better a terrarium or rain garden, just give us a call and we’ll give you a suspect phone number.

Also, despite the best efforts of Eastman, Kodak and Thomas Edison, the true fabulosity [clearly “fabulosity” is a better made-up word than “fabulousity,” and is easier to pronounce as well] of the most amazing agency in the universe cannot be captured by any electronic, manual or pinhole device. You’ll need to come visit. Fair warning, though. If you think you may become pregnant (male or female), bring your own contraception. There’s every possibility you’ll leave here knocked up with an embryo of amazement in your uterus.

As you scroll through the pictures, let us answer some general questions before you even ask: Yes. Don’t kid yourself. Yeah, that’s what she said. No, you couldn’t, so don’t even try.
And now some specifics.

Indeed, that’s a 9-foot-tall chainsaw-art grizzly bear. Yes, those are workable desks as part of a 9-hole putt-putt golf course. Of course every desk in the sweatshop comes with a sewing machine. Uh huh, we did turn that baby grand piano into a conference table. Don’t be dumb, it still plays. We knocked down an exterior wall and put in a garage door, that’s how the camper trailer got in there. There are 78 rubber chickens in the Chinese restaurant. Other than that, all questions can be answered with “What did you think, this is Wexley, not (insert whatever other company you want here). Duh.”

The one thing you’ll notice is a lack of mirrors. Our own overwhelming sexiness caused us to be mesmerized by ourselves, so we took them down. Plus, when you are carrying the collective looks we display, a mirror is just a waste of time. We know how hot we are, and are long past the need for constant reaffirmation. Snap out of it. See, we almost lost you there just thinking about how hot we must be. Welcome back.

Now enjoy the tour.

Raise your hand if you’ve got one. Good. You see the point of this entry is to make you feel good about yourself. Look, a lot of people don’t have as much going for them as we do. So it’s natural to get down on yourselves. We don’t really know that, because why would we ever get down on ourselves when everything is kind of awesome with us all the time? But normal people have problems. We get it. We watch TV, we read magazines and other blogs and old Sally Jessy Rapheal shows so we get that there are a lot of unhappy people out there. You know: gaining too much weight, not having enough crazy sex, drinking too much, fondling themselves in public, eating too many carrots at one time and experiencing ridiculous stomach stuff, having their period, limping from a sore foot, getting hit by cars and living, getting caught farting at the gym on the treadmill, getting a lesion of some sort or
contracting Herpes or having their faces sliced off by space debris that has unexpectedly fallen from the sky or had one eye gouged out by the claws of a weird pissed off sparrow or robin…we totally get it. Life can be cruel. Life can suck. For some people. But if you are one of those people who at this moment in time are still unhappy, seriously, don’t bring us down. Get
your crap out of here. We are pretty psyched right now.

We’ve just heard some news that rocked our world. IHOP is now providing “togo” meals. This must be stopped. To think that you would order yourpancakes, drive up, and simply drive away is simply appalling. You’re missing the point people! Now Wexley is all for drive through wedding ceremonies, drive though liquor stores and drive through gun shops, but this? This is too much. This is the INTERNATIONAL house of pancakes. To miss out on the INTERNATIONAL ambiance would leave you feeling half full… but mostly half empty. To miss out on the fake flower arrangements, faded peach musty carnations, laying against one another, petal to petal, to miss out on the children’s screams, and the obese mother in the stained tube top yelling “YOU ORDERED IT, YOU EAT IT!” as she gnaws on her side of bacon she ordered in addition to the four slices she already ate with her meal. To miss out on the servers, their misery, their pain, the hate in their eyes when you ask for just “one more” cup… just “top it off.” That, dear friends, is what IHOP is all about. In lieu of this stunning news we have started a movement, People Against IHOP take out orders, or PAIHOPTOO for short. Please, join us. It’s for the children.