Commercials That Turn Me Hulk

I think everyone will agree that the following blog will be full of comedy and rage. If you don't agree by the time you finish this blog, you should watch TV for one hour and commit to understanding why I was prompted to write this....

Below is a list of the commercials and a description of why I hate them.

1. Dove Soap Queefy Scat Song: There is a commercial with 3 dentally challenged females of mediocre appearance in granny panties who are giggling, frolicking, and rejoicing in their moisturizing body wash from Dove. If that wasn't annoying enough, the song that accompanies the frolic is some high pitched singer who is doing a "jazzy scat" to the children's song... "The tail bone connected to the hip bone... the hip bone connected to the leg bone... etc.." The worst part- there are 3 key changes in that queefy version of the song and with each key change the "frolicking" increases as does the gigglin'. This song will get perpetually stuck in your head for a minimum of 3.5 hours. I woke up to this song this morning and my day has sucked ever since I heard it. It makes me want to set myself on fire.

2. Fuck "Flo"- I hate Flo. I hate her. Progressive Insurance "Flo" can suck it. There isn't anything cute, adorable, funny, attractive, querky or anything about her that is redeeming. I don't understand why she has a regular gig or why the makeup department doesn't put some fucking bronzer on that bitch. Toss some honey colored highlights in her hair or dye it fire engine red or slap a B-52's Love Shack wig on her... somethin! If they are going for a "rockabilly" look or a "vintage housewife post WWII" thing... it isn't fucking working. Tease that bump on her fucking head a bit more and curl the ratty ass ends of her hair. Do it. Do it now so that somehow I can "get it"... Did you know they sell Flo Bobbleheads?! They fucking have merchandising for her plain ass! I'm sure someone in the marketing department took an improv workshop with her and thought she was "fun" and brought her into the audition and somehow drugged the casting directors enough to where they were impressed with her vapid expressionless face. The newest ads are trying to show "Flo" in her "environment" which looks like a 12 year old boy's bedroom and she's fucking "dreaming about insurance," 'cause you know, it's "cute n' all".... it's fucking not. Who dyed her hair with chestnut dk brown from Clairol? Who? Nobody can have that hair color unless you are the coloring of Salma Hayek. Nobody. To top the chestnut brown flat hair, you put the lightest makeup on her with a solid black line of liquid liner... no shading... and then and then and then you slap the worst shade of red lipstick on her real thick... She is a chinless wonder. I've written letters to Progressive Insurance asking why she is the spokesperson and to investigate the "good feedback" that came in because I'll bet money those letters came from a retard day camp.

3. General Insurance- The shitty animated "General" who has a fucking Penguin sidekick? The fuck is that about? It's like the animator had a fully "done" Penguin in the stock footage file and through it into the production contract for "good measure." This animated General hangs out with a Penguin and goes to clubs n' shit with him... it makes no sense at all. It's terrible and every time it comes on I want to.... set myself on fire. The latest version of this ad is in a comedy club setting with a "cute" hispanic guy trying to fake doing stand-up... it pans to the audience and the fucking shit ass General animated guy is slapping his fucking knee and throwing back booze. Guess who picks him up in a red corvette from the comedy club? DING DING.. You guessed it... the fucking Penguin is driving that Corvette and they are headed to their urban loft or some shit I guess... I don't know I hate it. I hate hate hate hate it. It's the most half ass bullshit I've ever seen. I think they used Microsoft Paint to color in the animation... It's like the quality of someone who is going to Dallas Art Institute and working on government funded Dells with Windows 98. Want proof... just watch...

This is the short version...

4. The winner of the worst commercial in the fucking world is SUBWAY.

The song... Five Dollar Foooootlooong.... is the worst shit I've ever heard in my life. Period.

I did the music theory on it and there is no music theory. It's the same note for 2 bars and down a half step/rinse & repeat. It is from the devil. I'm sure if you played it backwards it would have embedded lyrics like, "Dark Lord of the Syth eats babies in hell."

5. Kit Kat- Don't make mouth noises an intrinsic part of the marketing of your candy bar... just don't. (SNAP, POP, SMACK, CRACK, GULP, SMACK, SIGH, SNAP, SMACK, CRACK).... STOP.

6. YOU CAN'T MAKE IT- Mariah Carey's Jenny Craig Commercial... This shit will wake you up and find you in a cold sweat of fury. I won't even talk about it. If you have 30 seconds to spare just watch the link below... This commercial came on back to back (same one) the other day when I was struggling with a load of laundry and it actually made me throw the 17 pound bag on the ground and scream...

That's enough for now.... These commercials are the reason intergalactic communication isn't happening. Aliens are wondering why "the monkeys" are buying Flo bobbleheads, why Penguins hang out with military officials, and why 40 year old women find it absurdly fun to bathe while listening to a toddler's learnin' song.... It's why we can't have nice things... from space.

The Professional

Sparing the true identity of the person(s) I'm about to wreck on in this blog I'll just kick it off by saying the following....

I've never had a lot of female friends. Early on in my life as a fat kid with a lisp, I was tormented by my fellow female classmates. Recently, I had the exact same feeling I used to get when I was invited to slumber parties in 6th grade. I specify the 6th grade because that is when people suck the hardest in life.

At 32 years old, I didn't realize it was possible to still have the exact same feeling I did when I would be trapped at a girl's slumber party against my will in the 6th grade.

I guess I'll begin my story now...

Recently I have had meetings with someone regarding some professional endeavors that I was told this person would be an appropriate facilitator to expanding these endeavors to a bigger audience. I'm speaking in code because I have too. Sorry.

Most of the time I have the feeling that I was put on earth as a big fat joke and at any moment I'll be beamed back up to my home planet where we can all have a good laugh about "that one time when I was sent to earth." You know when you see that leathery methhead with the Skeletor face under the overpass and they are just gettin' after it talking to themselves? They are in a crazy bubble and have no idea what is happening outside of that sphere of rotting mental consciousness, right? Right. If the saying "history repeats itself" is a true statement then I can honestly say that I'm on a repeating loop of the same situations/same type of people but with different costumes on. It's like watching the zombie in the Resident Evil video game that is hung up on the pixel and is continuously walking into the wall about 2 inches from the open door.... THAT is my life. So what do I do? I reset the "PS3" and hope that it healed itself or I just stop playing the game for a while. I realize that was potentially the longest and strangest metaphor I could come up... Roll with it.

So.... This story begins with a friend of a friend of a friend who recommended this person professionally. The function of this person is still relatively unknown to me but I was convinced to give them my time because they have some great ideas to slam on the table. I should've known from the get-go that it was nothing more than horseshit because the initial email dialog contained nothing but exclamation points and flash created smiley face icons with various hats on. I hate that shit. Actually from now on if I get an email with that bullshit in it, I'm going to reply to them with a computer virus in an attachment entitled: LOL

After working a 10 hour day I decide to go have this meeting. Worst decision ever. A revolving door of chaos began the second I walked into the crazy bubble of this person. With wine stained teeth, sloppy overly emotional monologues about internet love and the attention span of a dying fruit fly, I knew anger tossed in shame would be the result of this meeting. Remember in that movie "Contact" when they get the transmission from outerspace and it was white noise with the pulsating sub-phonic humming intermixed with imagery of apocalyptically tragic events in history...then a butterfly or a child picking a flower... then Hitler... then back to the static again.... Remember that? No you don't do you?

Anyway, that was what it was like to try and hold a conversation with this chick about business endeavors... WHICH IS WHY I WAS THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!

I had the friend one time who had terrible emotional problems and he would go into grocery stores and crush loaves of bread to get kill out of himself. Let me say this- That day I had some kill in me before I met with "The Professional." No lie, I remember looking up and seeing a baguette and thinking of how great it would feel to dig my nails into it.

Several hours go by and this chick is DRRRUNK. Really drunk. Nothing professional has been discussed at all and now there was a new member of our meeting... a random guy that she was making out with. This is where the slumber party analogy comes into play. THE SAME FEELING that I had in 6th grade when a group of chicks would invite over guys to make out with and somehow I ended up watching C-SPAN with my friend's dad in the garage feelin' like an asshole.

Bottom line is this... I have nothing to report about this yet because it isn't over. I'm looking at it as material ripe for the pickin'. I can't get too specific in this blog but rest assured there was a lot of juicy juice comedy nuggets that came from that night. Some things are so funny and so specific that if I wrote about it, a few people would definitely know who I'm wrecking on.

If I have time and a way to block a few people from reading this, I will continue on with the story later.

Until then, drink some wine and watch "Contact."