Man, this is giving me cold sweats. You're halfway through the comfort break, when this a figure of Madam Milkmakers sashays out, showing a pair of monster radioactive boobs. Big Pappis. Hubba hubba. You're thinking, Holy shit! What the hell happened to her chesticles! Day-glow implants! This is the greatest thing since -- wait! They're not boombags. See that chord between them? Artery. Hold the mayo! They're lungs! This babe has asthma!
It's a drug ad. The last 15 seconds list the side-effects -- brutal headaches, bloody toe-jam, urges to bash your head into a municipal clock, etc. -- and it's a litany of the symptoms that accompany a Yankee playoff loss. Yeesh. They're playing with us. Take this pill, and two weeks later, you might be walking the highway median, talking to Ed McMahon.
Can't we stick with the Corona ad, the one with the bikini blond's backside? The playoffs are supposed to be beer ads. Pizza ads. Car ads. If I want to hear lists of the side-effects associated with taking a pill, I'll watch the evening news.
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2 comments:
Thank you. I'm so sick of hearing about Viagra and Avodart and all the other crap for men. When will they start having tampon commercials? We She-Fans deserve some love too.
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