Thursday, October 24, 2013

Cialis: It's A Right Now Kinda Thang

Cialis is a prescription drug for erectile dysfunction. So, when old dudes can’t get their dick up they can take Cialis and bang until it falls off. There have been reports of erections lasting four hours or longer, so I’m guessing that some of them wish their dick actually would fall off. A commercial I just saw for Cialis offered us three different scenarios edited together as kind of a montage:

Scenario One: A man and a woman wearing T-shirts that say “Football” are sitting next to each other on the couch watching…presumably…football? The lady is all excited and jumps up off the couch when her team does something cheer-worthy. I’m guessing we’re shown that detail to prove that she’s, well, excitable. Back to them in a minute.

Scenario Two: A man and a woman are cleaning the clutter from their attic. I know, I know, who DOESN’T get a boner cleaning the attic? Well they’re sorting through a box of records and come across some old album that seems to bring back memories for both of them. Not sure if they’re great ones because the dude keeps shaking his head with an ironic smile on his face while he turns the album over and over and over. Who can read that fast? The look on his face seems to say: “Oh hell, yeah, I remember this record…I was wasted and you? You were passed out. I think it was the first time we screwed.” Back to them in a minute

Scenario Three: A man and a woman are outside appearing to refinish an old wooden crate. Um, why? Suddenly the dude, apropos of nothing, as they appear to not even be speaking to one another, begins to look at the woman with, frankly, a skeevy kind of stare. Unperturbed by this the woman, just as suddenly, returns his gaze, although she offers him a kind of blank smile, like she’s used to this from him. Back to them in a minute.

Bing, Bang, Boom! The Cialis kicks in and look out ladies; you all about to get SERVED a juicy dose of erectile dysfunction-fueled lovin’!

The cheering football lady presents her couch potato with a tray of food that would serve seven but it don’t matter because he gives her a look and who needs football, let’s fuck!

The attic cleaners put the old album on the old turntable and begin to dance. Who needs to clean this filthy craphole; let’s fuck!

The wooden crate-refinishing-duo finally toss those damn brushes and get it on instead. I guess that creepy stalker smile worked after all. Who needs to refinish this splinter-ridden piece of shit; let’s fuck!

So there you have it. Cialis kicks in and life takes a back seat because, well, those Cialis-infused dudes NEED TO FUCK RIGHT NOW! And why not some truth in advertising, Cialis hucksters? Why not show the poor sap four hours later crying in the emergency room because his dick won’t go down? As the commercial ends we see the Cialis emblem, which is a silhouette of a couple, each in their own, "it will only fit one person" bathtubs situated side-by-side, holding hands across the small distance that separates them. Um, what’s up with the skinny bathtubs? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the whole purpose of Cialis in the first place? Maybe there should be a warning on the package? MEN: DO NOT TAKE CIALIS IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE IN A SITUATION THAT WILL PREVENT YOU FROM FUCKING WITHIN 20 MINUTES! So to that dude in the bathtub: until you can relocate to a more fuckable location, DO NOT TAKE YOUR CIALIS, MAN; it’s gonna be hard to get it on in the little, tiny bathtub. Furthermore, woe be to you guys with a four hour boner; dude, that little bathtub has a little drain. You could get stuck and then where will you be? In William Howard Taft-ville that’s where. And with an image like that in your lady friend’s head…well, ain’t enough Cialis in the world gonna fix that my man.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

The Real Housewives of New Jersey Season Finale: They Go Out With A Whimper Not A Bang

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...Huh? Wha? Gosh, I'm sorry, I must have dozed off there. MOST. BORING. FINALE. EVER. As in EVER. What did I just watch? That was an hour of...nothing! For the first 20 minutes or so they just recapped the season. But I fast forwarded through that because I...watched it? OK, I thought, now we get to the good, fist pumping, punch-throwing, JSTA getting his little beanie ripped off and then hauled off to jail ACTION. But, uh, we didn't. Back we go to the Posche 2 opening party and everyone, and I mean everyone, is surrounding Penny and her oddball husband 'cause they got some 'splainin' to do and Melissa and JSTA are prodding them to do just that. Well, actually JSTA did make some googly-eyed, half-assed lunges at Penny's hubster while screaming, as he is normally wont to do, "SHE'S MY WIFE!! MY WIFE!!!" Yeah, JSTA, uh, we've all got that and since he's been tweeting up a fucking blow-job shitstorm about your little songbird, I'm pretty sure he knows that, too. Anyway, there's Melissa, demanding, DEMANDING, an explanation from Penny who prompty throws Thereser directly under the bus because, well, because it WAS Thereser who was the little devil whispering all the secret Melissa dirt into Penny's wired-to-In-Touch-magazine ear. All T could do was widen her eyes incredulously, which considering T has about a quarter inch of forehead to begin with, kinda put her big, black eyebrows in direct contact with her simian hairline. Melissa was surrounded by her posse, which is to say, the entire cast of RHONJ because thanks to the Adirondyke Mount-ins and Miraval, everyone is singing Kumbaya from the same sheet of Bravo music. Hilariously, Dirty C kinda went apeshit even more than JSTA, "ARE YOU HAPPY? ARE YOU? ARE YOU? YOU RUINED A FAMILY ARE YOU HAPPY?" which is saying something. Hey DC: ease down...ease down. Here's a suggestion: try ramping up your estrogen, babe, cause not only do you shave (which you've told us already in a previous season and that Big Al SR absolutely LOVES it) but you're kinda verging into Manlyville. In fact, maybe you're already kinda there. For real. So anyway, the crew is all around, backing up their girl Melissa and Penny shouts out for some help from Crack Hoe Kim D. Crack Hoe Kim D joins the fray, apparently still in full makeup from her audition for The Walking Dead. DAMN! That is one hard looking bitch, people. You do NOT want to cross Crack Hoe Kim D in a dark alley, my friends; she WILL cut a bitch. And likely has. Anyhow, Crack Hoe Kim joins the outer ring around Penny and her tweeting hubby but kinda just stares her scary-ass stare. So yeah, there was that. Then up comes that whiny-ass dipshit Jacqueline, who, now that she's safely surrounded by her husband, friends and sister-in-law DC (again who is just a chromosome away from growing a pair for real) she takes off on Penny and her man, snarling about how they tweeted nasty shit about her kid and what kind of monsters are they and blah, blah, blah. Jacqueline is human Valium, she really, really is. The fast forward button is SO my friend when it comes to that mealy-mouthed little idiot.

All at once everyone huffed out of the Posche 2 party in various states of outrage and that was it. End of THAT storyline, which need I remind RHONJ regular viewers, is pretty much the EXACT SAME END AS LAST FUCKING SEASON. Next day T and Jacqueline, over some giant goblets of vino, have a heart-to-heart and Jacqueline advises T to come clean with JSTA and Melissa. We see Thereser wrapping her mind around that notion and trying to remember her script as she considers that this might be the only way to "move forward" with JSTA. Comically she never mentions Melissa's name. Telling. But then again, I kinda can't stand Melissa so, I get it, T, I get it. Jacqueline suggests that Thereser should plan to make her confession to JSTA the next day at the BLK flavor tasting. WTF? So now it's not just going to be black water, it's going to FLAVORED black water. These morons are the limit. We get to see Dirty C in her talking head brag on and on and on about her AMAZINGLY successful and independent children and we are treated to some of the best clips from her loser kids' past, namely the one where she tells Little Al JR to never let anyone tell him that he can't do something. Um, OK. Dirty C is on a big-ass stroll down memory lane, walking through her giant house and revisiting some of the more wonderful memories of life in their heavily fortified compound. This is all just a big lead up to Dirty C's epiphany that, hell, she doesn't want the apartment in Hoboken, she wants to stay right here, because, well, there's no place like home. Cue the Wizard or Glinda or whoever Big Al SR is the stand-in for in this gag-worthy, "touching" shot who assures Dirty C that she can stay there as long as she likes. Big fucking whoop. Honestly, it's amazing I kept watching this bore-fest of a finale.

Next day everyone gathers at the BLK "office" to taste-test the potential new flavors of their sludge water and, well, who fucking cares about BLK anyway? Thereser drags JSTA over to a private spot and spills the beans to him about how she befriended the wrong people and that since she was "so mad at Melissa" she didn't speak up when the ladies started to trash M in earnest. She never owned up to being the dirt source, but rather took responsibility for being a silent witness to Melissa's downfall at the hands of other, more vicious and vindictive North Jersey trollops. And you know what? I kinda found myself nodding along with T 'cause lets fact it peeps, we've all been there, amirite? You're hatin' on someone and it's just plain old delicious FUN to hear others crap on that person. So they cried (again) and they hugged (again) and all is right in the Gorga/Guidice swirling inferno of drama as the season ends.

Our last shots are back at the Jersey shore, where the season began, in the aftermath of Superstorm Sandy and Thereser and JJ's beach house, which had been ruined by the storm. But! It's been rebuilt by JJ and now everyone's coming down-a shore for a cookout/hugathon/what-I-learned-this-season confessional epilogue. I'm thinking, "way to go, T, you got that good-for-nothing husband to at least make himself useful and fix up the beach house before his lying ass is deported. Our last talking head segment is Dirty C, pontificating as usual, the old, wise grand dame of the crew, jabbering on about how even when they hated each other they really loved each other and how even in their most spiteful phases any one of them would have come running at the drop of a hat if any of the others were in need. And I called BULLSHIT at the TV at that point because, honestly Dirty C, who the FUCK is going to believe that load of crap-ola? Your own expression tells me that YOU sure don't fucking believe it. So, yeah. And that's where we ended up, with a peek at the latest Guidice legal woes brewing and a hint that by next week's Reunion episode, some of the lovey-dovey glow has kind of worn off. So The ABIB will be back next week to recap the Reunion party, which if past seasons are any indication, should be kinda fun. Especially if that nitwit Lauren Manzo shows up. Stay tuned!