Thursday, December 25, 2008

Concrete Blonde 'Still In Hollywood'

If you didn’t know by reading my blog or listening to me on the radio… I’m a sick bastard. I find amusement with things that would cause the normal person to recoil or washout their eyes with lye soap. I’ll make sick jokes and then make apologies… Not for making the joke. An apology because I offended them. It’s not my fault if they don’t think it’s funny.

Possessing and using a sick sense of humor is not easy. Saying things without thinking of the repercussions that can follow seem easy on the outside, but it can be a lot of work. Many times, I get a lot of red-faced angry spittle landing on my wide and surprised eyeballs. It’s a lot of responsibility.

For example… Last night at our family Christmas gathering… Chloe unwrapped a toy lighted makeup kit that looked like a piece of old school luggage. It was pretty cool. It looked like a makeup road case from the Vaudevillian days.

“That’s cool!” I said. “You can pretend that you’re backstage at Christi’s Cabaret.”

This caused my uptight sister Pam’s sphincter to close with such great force that she had to hit me. I wanted to continue explaining to Chloe where the cool places to keep your razor blades for cutting up coke, but the boundary had been set with Pam’s backhand.

Side note here: Pam also fell for the Jenna Jameson nutcracker. She thought it was real and she KNEW that that sort of gift just wouldn’t go over well with our father… See how much fun having a sick sense of humor can be?

My sick sense of humor also sees things differently than most people… Lets take commercials for example…

Bladder problems are serious. Millions suffer with these problems. I even have family members that have some bladder issues.

I couldn’t help but point this one out…

The woman is at the doctor’s office for an appointment. I get the impression that she’s there for just a checkup. The air pressure will get checked and the white walls will get a swift kick. And if she’s particularly lucky (over the age of 40), she’ll get a quick inspection of the undercarriage and chassis. Checkups can be such invasive fun!

While sitting in the waiting room, her bladder decides to scream “LESSEN ME!” and she heads off to the loo. The woman icon falls off the door. She’s little, blue, decapitated, and wearing a skirt. The icon comes alive and grows to an acceptable height. The blue icon dispenses helpful information to the office visitor that fears a “trail of tears” more than walking and talking hallucinations. She calms the lady and explains that she shouldn’t be ashamed of her leaky pipes. In fact, she should tell her doctor about her overactive bladder through interpretative dance and be sure to mention that she’s getting advice from a women’s bathroom door icon. Because… Lets be honest here… Bladder problems could be the least of her problems.

Is this an acceptable form of advertising? Subtly making fun of the mentally ill that talk to hallucinations?

And where can I sign up for such a job?

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