Calories, calories, calories, vagina.

I like shit. Seriously. I hate to admit this, as environmentally aware as I try to be–I wash clothes in cold water; I don’t buy bottled water, except in emergencies; I endure public transportation; I shop in my neighborhood and pay more for Brooklyn-made clothes, etc. My carbon footprint is as motherfucking low as it can get without me doing something retarded like going Vegan or moving to Portland, Ore.

However, I get a sick satisfaction from buying and using stuff…and throwing the bottle away into the recycling bin.  I blame the excess of the Reagan years for this.

So, as an American consumer of Stuff I’ve been noticing a lot of commercials lately. Is it just me, or are commercials becoming even more annoying than usual? I think they’re more annoying. Here’s a recap of the ones that drive me to the brink of madness:

  • “Karl…it stinks in here,” says Karl’s Hot Mom as she walks into his bedroom. Yes, indeed, the adolescent, pimply, gangly Karl replies in his pubescent breaking voice to Hot Mom’s request that they wash the room, “Are you kidding? Wash it?” Why, yes, Karl, nothing like Frebreze to cover up the stench of your jizzed-upon crusty socks and skid-marked Fruit of the Looms. So, they start Frebrezing everything—which, after four fucking years of not living with a washer/dryer setup, it Blows Me Away that People are so lazy that they cannot even strip their sheets and take it downstairs to their very own W/D hookup! Anyway, the room gets “fresh” just in time for Karl’s hot female friends to arrive, and let me say, as a former teenage girl, Frebreze or no, there’s no way I’d be going over to some Virgin like Karl’s house to hang out in his funky-ass room. Next.
  • “We are Miracle Whip, and we will not tone it down.” There are so many things I despise about this ad campaign—and the sheer disgusting fact that MW is so clearly inferior to real mayo isn’t even the beginning of it. It features a bunch of squirrelly looking hipsters smearing Miracle Whip on sandwiches and all over each other, licking it off their faces and prancing around and posing with the jar, while wearing vests over T-shirts and ’80s Ray-Bans and playing guitar and making toasted paninis on rooftops. Hey, fuckers! Yeah, you! Miracle Whip is not the new Pabst. But I can’t help but think that the one thing it would be good for is slobbing some on a hot dog so you can toss it down the Hipster Grifter’s hallway. Just saying.
  • K&Y His and Hers. I don’t think this one needs that much explanation. A bunch of boring, married, mediocre couples find that this lubricant makes them enjoy fucking each other again. What I don’t get is, after they’re done in bed, they always still have their clothes on.
  • Kmart Christmas layaway commercials. Ok, any Christmas commercial (“Buy more crap! Seriously, just buy more crap, you lazy, stupid, fat American!”) drives me insane, and they’re out early this year in droves. But if you’re putting shit on layaway at Kmart you really need to consider if you should be buying anything at all in the first place.
  • Smart Food. As a woman—no, as an Educated Human Being—these commercials offend every cell of my being. A bunch of moderately plump cartoon chicks sit around and bitch about doing one sit-up, then plop their fat asses down on the couch to consume some fucking fake carmel popcorn, or whisper crackers, or whatever shit is being pushed as Smart Food. When these come on, look at the men in the room if there are any—you can physically almost see their dicks shriveling back up into their bodies. Choice lines include “Cheryl, you can’t wear control tops with a bikini,” “If I eat it standing up it doesn’t count, right?” and “ ‘Four hours of aerobics’ ‘Why?’ ‘Hot fudge sundae.’ ” Or as my roommate put it, “Calories, calories, calories, vagina.” Whoever created this campaign should be drug out in the street, beaten and given to Michael Vick.

The posts have been slow coming lately due to business factor—fucking day jobs. But now that the holidaze are upon us, look for a lot more. I mean, it’s not like anyone works between Thanksgiving and Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa anyway, and I plan to spend the next month watching “New Moon” over and over again and dreaming of vampire kisses on fluffy white clouds.

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1 Comment

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One response to “Calories, calories, calories, vagina.

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