Care For A Set of Steak Knives With Your Viagra?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
The sky is falling! The end is nigh! ...unless, of course...you buy a George Foreman Grill.

Submitted: September 16, 2006

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Submitted: September 16, 2006

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It’s a bright and breezy morning, and I am currently demolishing the remains of my third chocolate doughnut whilst watching the "Talented Mr Springer."

"What in God’s name are you DOING woman?" I hear you call frantically.

"Think of your thighs!"

"Doughnuts for breakfast?"

"Don’t you realize that you have used up your daily Weight Watcher’s points in one hit?"

Well, you can relax. My thighs and I are perfectly content, and it’s all because of a secret that I discovered late last night.
I’m not joking. This secret could very well turn the dieting industry upside down.
The ramifications could even put the likes of Jenny Craig and Dr Atkins out of business. (What’s that? Dr Atkins is dead? Well, I’m hardly surprised. I would submit, given the decline in patronage, that a mob of angry Italian chefs probably dropped a ninety pound bag of fusilli pasta on his head.)

Now, I can’t spread the word too much, but, to make it brief, a lady on the television looked me straight in the eye and informed me most gravely, that I would never have to worry about counting calories again.
My jaw dropped open as my half-eaten jumbo packet of Doritos fell to the ground.

Could this be true?

Surely, she was messing with my mind!

But no! The lady on the screen (whose name, if I recall, was Lydia) was deadly serious. She went on to tell me that hours and hours of careful research had been poured into the creation of the ’astounding’ and ’revolutionary’ diet pill called "SlimyourselfSilly."
As you may know, I am not one to buy into such miracle cures, but Lydia went on to assure me that this was indeed, the biggest scientific breakthrough in ’cellulite disintegration and transmogrification’ that the modern world had ever seen.
Again, she regarded me seriously before adjusting her white lab coat (well, she HAD to be legitimate if she was wearing a white lab coat right?) and showed me a picture of "Doris."

Doris looked as if she was in her early forties, and was approximately the size of the United Nations Building.

Doris had complained that she wasn’t as happy as she would like to be.
She had stated to Lydia that her social life had been suffering a little.(Mainly due to the fact that she had trouble leaving the house and occasionally scared her elderly neighbors.)
Lydia nodded her head sympathetically as the voiceover continued. She then suggested that Doris try some "SlimyourselfSilly."

SHAZAAM!!!

Loud Muzak! Flashing lights!

Who was this svelte and stunning blonde woman walking out to greet Lydia?

It couldn’t possibly be "Doris."
The striking goddess turned and hugged Lydia warmly while flashing her pearly whites at the camera.
"I couldn’t believe the results." she gushed heartily. "One little dose of "SlimyourselfSilly" and I found that I could eat whatever I wanted, and the weight just kept dropping off! I lost a hundred and eighty pounds in forty-eight hours. THANK YOU Lydia! And THANK YOU "SlimyourselfSilly!" You’ve changed my life and now I can pursue my goal of running for Congress!"

Cheers! More loud muzak and glittering lights!

I leaned back into my chair and shook my head in amazement. It seemed so unbelievable, and yet there, in front of my eyes, was the ’new and improved’ Doris. Transformed (or was that transmogrified?) into a shadow of her former self.
Okay, so she had also grown a couple of inches taller and had acquired a strong Swedish accent, but there could have been the odd side effect.

Since I have been living in the United States, I have discovered that there are all sorts of amazing things on offer. I usually find them on the television, late at night, and in between talk shows.

My husband was particularly impressed with the "Hair in a Can" concept. (He is a bit short in the follicle department, but he is always one hundred percent gorgeous to me.) You apply the spray to the ’affected and sparse’ areas and SHAZZAM!!
You too can get that sexy half-man, half-persian rug look.

And that’s not all! If you pay with your credit card (NOW! Pay NOW! Don’t wait! Pay NOW dammit!) they’ll throw in a new set of steak knives as well.
If what I see here is true about these offers, it is possible, according to my calculations, that every man, woman, child and gerbil in the United States is the proud owner of a new set of steak knives.

Mind you, I have some mild concerns about getting a headache whilst I am here.
Unlike Australia, America advertises a variety of medical drugs on the television. There are commercials for everything from vitamin A to Viagra.(And what IS it with that Viagra ad that shows a guy walking into work with a smug smile on his face? Everyone is asking him if he has had a new haircut/worked out/bought a new tie etc. Now if they were asking him whether he had a "Subway Sandwich" in his trousers or was just happy to see them- I might have caught the marketing angle.)

But surprisingly, the commercials seem to focus on all the nasty things the drugs can do to you rather than the medicinal benefits.

Let’s take for example, Headache tablet "X."


Apart from explaining to you that this tablet is going to help your headache, the narrator proceeds to advise you that by taking tablet "X", you may also encounter side effects such as: lazy bowel movements, stomach spasms, fatigue, insomnia, internal bleeding, mild forms of amnesia, footrot, gangrene, depression and psychosis.

Well, if I get a headache, I might just ride it out for fear of waking up and forgetting who I am, falling asleep again, and chasing my husband around with a knife (quite possibly from my new set of steak knives) in a state of depression-induced mania.

I am learning more and more about the American culture every day through the wonderful world of informercials.

Mind you, for originality, you can’t go past a recent commercial for life insurance. A woman is sitting on a park bench, when a chimp in a white lab coat ( taken from the set of "SlimyourselfSilly") jumps up and tells her that he is her dead husband, reincarnated as a monkey.
The monkey goes on to explain that he is now being used for science experiments that are paying for her retirement funds.
The cheeky ape suggests to the woman that when she comes back again the next day, she should wear the ’sexy red dress’ that he always liked.

If, by some chance, I am sitting on a park bench one day and a monkey in a lab coat claiming to be my late husband suggests that ’I’ return in a ’sexy red dress’, he will probably be surprised to find a banana inserted into a strange and uncomfortable place.

Now where were the rest of those doughnuts?


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