Witz Pickz: Our Little Secrets

Today, for the first time in my life, I think I understood why men wear women's underwear. Eh, I guess I'll elaborate. You see, as I hobbled into Safeway today, I looked completely the same to everyone around me...BUT underneath my jeans, I was wearing a compression wrap on my pulled hamstring. Tight, safe, secure-- it felt like I was putting one over on the world-- it was my little secret, and it made me feel great. I had confidence...I also had extremely limited mobility and couldn't buy cheese because I couldn't reach down to pick it up...but also confidence. There's something empowering about tricking the world, even when they don't care they're being tricked.

That's why I've been wearing my Stanford University t-shirt as much as possible the last two months while I've been unemployed. Why am I free to shop and go to the gym or library or anywhere at all hours of the day? Don't ask me-- just read the t-shirt. That sucker gets in with every laundry load I run, and more than once I've encountered a respectable businessman, or a gym employee, or a cute girl at Safeway and thought, "Standford tee is saving your life right now, bro! (Paraphrasing Charlie as Green Man in It's Always Sunny...)" I'm not disheveled and lazy, I'm just obscenely intelligent. It's the same technique I used to use for how I let people know my opinions regarding Co-Ed Naked events or sports.

Anyway, the compression wrap/undergarment thing got me thinking about what makes other people feel good-- and thanks to Turbo, I was shown this As Seen On TV product that can only be sold to the very depressed to make them feel better.*

Doc Bottom's Aspray:
I honestly don't know if it's real or not. Too many years of comedy and parody have made me completely incapable of judging reality. A lot of me wants to say this is a joke, but I would have thought the same thing about the Mr. T cooker, and it's probably illegal to take credit card information for fake products. Take a look:



My Thoughts:

-I can't imagine people with "BEASTLY BUTT ODOR" would both know that they had said issue AND refer to it as "beastly." Ever. Equally notable: Why does Plumber A stick his face into the ass-crack of Plumber B while passing the wrench? If his location was Seattle, and he handed the wrench to New York City, his face took a detour to Houston.** No, this isn't on the GREs.

-Six words: "You can even A-Spray your privates."

-I love how he brings America into this. Like people have extreme body odor issues, but aren't dealing with them because they only buy American.

-I like that they made "Lanny F" the all purpose consumer. I don't know if it's a 55 year old man or a 70 year old lesbian.

-"Stops odor before it starts" sounds like a lifetime commitment to me. Once you buy Aspray and start using it for its 24 Hour Protection, you can't ever really stop without worrying that you'll revert back to a freakishly smelly sack of flesh.

-We're all on the same page that it's spelled like "Ass-spray" right?

-If I ever find Aspray in anyone's home, it's going to carry the same weight as finding out they are a convicted felon. Sure, maybe they're functional in society, but right below the surface or one poorly timed government holiday and the beast rears its odorous head and it's ass-crack city*** all over again.

I can't wait to get the, "Normally I'm not very sensitive to this type of thing, but I have a lot of friends with beastly butt odor, and if it wasn't for Aspray, they wouldn't be able to play in the deaf olympics!" comments.

I Would Have Called It, "I Can't Believe It's Not Beastly Butt Odor...Spray,"
Witz


*Ok, it didn't really make me think that-- in fact, Turbo gave me these links BEFORE I put on the compression wrap and went to the store...and I don't think in half-baked segues, which is a blessing and a curse. So I lied to you just now, but the important thing is that I always admit my lies, so you always can be sure that my life is just as ridiculous as it seems.

**I just managed to both make a geographical metaphor AND call Houston the ass-crack of America. I think this shows growth as a writer.

***Houston...in related news, I've been informed that Marseilles smells overwhelmingly of urine.