Kayah's Comp Blog

The Budweiser commercial begins after the end of prohibition and continues through joyful times in the following decades. After prohibition, you see the excitement surrounding the end of the war with Japan in the 40's. Next, a scene showcasing the greaser style of the '60s followed by a crowd huddled around a tiny television to watch the moon landing, of course drinking Budweiser beer. We pan around a disco club in the '70s, up to a go-go dancer in a cage. Vignettes of the '80s and 90 come next - hip hop and street style, ecstatic fans cheering for Team USA in the 84' Olympics held in Los Angeles, a packed grunge show in a bar - before ending with a modern scenario as people dance in the street as a DJ plays on a rooftop above. Each scene clearly depicts the decade, with the distinct fashion and decor choices that go along with the style of the time. While people of many ages can enjoy this commercial, I think it specifically targets older generations like Baby Boom...

For me, the transition to college was fairly easy. I grew up in an unstable household with a literally absent parent, leaving me to do everything on my own (or not). I did online classes for most of my freshman year and my entire sophmore year, and I barely did any coursework which meant I failed most of my classes. I eventually attended a physical classroom at my local high school dedicated to students taking online courses where I had more structure and an authority figure looming over me if I didn't do my work. It took me five years to finish high school, but in my final year I was back at home doing coursework online totally self directed. My high school GPA overall was in the low 2's, but based on my final two years alone I had a 3.8. After high school I took several years off before finally enrolling in college. I'm paying for my school on my own, which makes me feel extra motivated to do well. If I fail a class, I don't have parents to pay for me to take it again...

When I finally came to, lying on my stomach on a paper-thin mattress, I groggily reached for whatever object underneath me had been stabbing me all night long. I rolled over onto my back and looked at the colorful, round object in my hand: a gashapon capsule with a tiny smiling mascot inside. I remembered a sea of the little plastic orbs rolling in unison across the floor and a blinking gashapon machine lying on its side to my right. I sat up and felt some sort of jostling in the pocket of my sweatshirt, which was considerably less surprising than the fact I had found myself in a single concrete cell. I carried lots of junk with me on a day that I wasn't mysteriously awakened in a jail cell, so I delved back into the pocket and pulled out a rolled-up, slightly sticky napkin with a phone number on it. A cute person sitting at the bar next to me in the restaurant - the same one soon to be overtaken by plastic balls - had given me the number after I made a really, really bad joke. Som...