What I'm getting you for your birthday

So, last night, though I fully intended to go out, I stayed in- because I was horrified by the weather and also there was an Omen marathon on AMC (not that I haven't seen them all 85,000 times). BUT, this is the important part! I totally saw a commercial for a penis pump. A penis pump that claims it is covered by Medicare (please note that many insurance companies, by the way, still do not cover birth control.

I just thought that you should know. Keep an eye out for it. The old dude who says "If you can be all you can be, why not be all you can be?" is priceless, as is his toupee.

The most horrifying thing ever?

So the other night I'm sitting on the couch with Allen watching Paris Hilton's My New BFF (I promise you it is comedy gold.) and I see a new commercial, and I freak the fuck out.

The horrifying FreeCreditReport.com guy is in a new commercial. A new commercial in which he is at the goddamned Renaissance Festival. Do you have any idea how I fear the Renaissance festival? I went once when I was a kid and was practically traumatized by all the delusional Olde English speaking people and the whole thing where everyone was eating giant turkey legs with their hands (it's not festive, it's unsanitary).

So, anyway this commercial is basically like a cornucopia of my absolute worst fears in the world. I seriously dived under the blanket and covered my head until it was over. This is what I imagine it looked like:
(click to enlarge and see all of my worst fears come true!)

Yup. That was pretty much it. The worst thing ever. I will have nightmares for years to come.

Robyn's Commercial Mystery Hour

Ok, so every time that Boost Mobile commercial comes on (you know, the one with the three guys rapping?)- which is often because apparently they sponsor the FearNet, and we watch a lot of horror movies here at The Maxi Pad- I freak out about the last guy in the commercial with the incredibly bizarre, plasticky looking face.

So, eventually (as in yesterday), I look him up. Because I need a closer look at his face. I google "'That dude' Boost Mobile commercial"- and find out that he is in fact Mickey Avalon, and he actually does stuff other than commercials for cell phone companies. Stuff which includes the "My Dick" song....

Which was the inspiration for my favorite thing ever, Margaret Cho's "My Puss" song. Which I think I've already posted here like, 50,000 times. It's that glorious.

See how everything comes full circle? Now, with that success (?) under my belt, I decided I was ready to discover the identity of my old nemesis, the "free credit report dot com" guy (I'm feeling very Nancy Drew this morning)...

I've had nightmares. I've gone four days without being able to get that "F-R-E-E that spells free, credit report dot com baby" song out of my head. I hate his smug face and his lies (truly- like, jen signed up, and it's free at first, but then they charge you 14 bucks a month and when you try to cancel it you can't get a hold of anyone, and they stick you with a virus that charges you twice). I hate the fact that nothing I can do will stop him from singing those awful songs. I think sometimes that if I just give up and go to the stupid website that it'll stop. You know, like when some drunk dude starts trying to convince you that you and he are totally soul mates, and eventually you just say "Yeah, ok, fine, we're soulmates, whatever." so he'll shut up and move on to bothering the next chick? It won't work like that! There is nothing I can do! Nothing will stop this man from torturing me with his horrid jingles! But still... I'm curious.

So I look him up. As it turns out, his name is Eric Violette, and he doesn't even sing the songs- it's dubbed over! It's like the fucking Beijing Olympics thing! Like, apparently, they thought this guy was so awesome looking/ such an awesome actor, and that the other guy was such a good singer, that they combined them. What the cock is that shit?

Also, I have found his myspace, and, unsurprisingly, he does not seem to have much to say about life, other than that which involves getting free credit reports.
http://www.myspace.com/eric_violette

Mysteries solved.

Lady, lady never start...

When I went to bed last night, I was so angry that my skin physically hurt and bristled, and maybe that's why I had all these ridiculous dreams and nightmares that I thought were real upon waking. Or maybe it's becase I was drunk. I don't normally remember dreams, and I don't talk about them either- because I am of the opinion that dreams are only interesting to the person who had them. It's not like I can tell you that I went to this weird zoo where they had like, terrifying sheep/kangaroo hybrids whose arms fell off if you shook hands with them and you can relate. Or that I for some reason sucker punched a pregnant woman in and her stomach crumbled like cardboard and you can say "Oh yes, I have seen that happen."

I digress. I'm sick to my stomach right now- and I don't know if it's from booze, or anger, or the fact that I have to work today and can't see Stevie Wonder play for free at the Taste of Chicago thingy. Maybe they'll let me leave early if it's slow. I like Stevie Wonder much better than I like most other people.

I am partial to band-aids being pulled off quickly- I don't like to look at the bloody underside, and when they're off I want them in the trash, never to be seen by me again. I wrote a rather vitriolic letter last night, which this morning I discovered did not actually get sent, and that's probably for the best. But now, maybe, I suppose I know why I have always been so instinctively vigilant about keeping the things that actually matter to me so well quarantined.