Posts Tagged ‘commercials’

Too Much Freaking TV

Posted: August 19, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

So after my friend’s laziness advice was taken to heart, I went back to my usual disabled activities (or lack thereof).  Granted, that includes a great deal of time aimlessly surfing like one of the writers for Tosh.0, Rosie’s exercise regimen implied therein, and a wholly excessive amount of TV.  The latter activity’s repetitive commercials have totally killed my buzz.  First off, apparently anyone can get into college– or at least that’s what these particular asinine commercials want you to believe.

Yay.  You fail.  Again.

Yes, apparently you can failtacular the Hell out of high school– but this broad has the easy way out!  Act now, we have a yellow brick road just for you!

Yes, I fought my way to my B.A.– yet here I am, on workman’s comp, injured while working a job that has absolutely nothing to do with my level of education or my educational field.  I don’t see anyone swooping in to do a thing for me, and I don’t expect it (but damn would it be sweet).  Every damn insomniac night, Jill remembers how to clench a fist around her fiberglass prison when these stupid ads come on.  Comically/Tragically (not sure which), they play up that she went to high school, complete with a cutsey-poo “didn’t do great.”   I could go on a derisive tirade over how these commercials, and the entire concept in general, is a gigantic money pit–  but what would be the point?  It’s not going to give me more activities that I can do that’re one-hand compatible.

Of course, the mind-numbing jingle isn’t the worst commercial out there.   At least that one is preaching some self-improvement.  Give me a second to stop laughing here, I couldn’t even type that with a straight face.  Anyway, dummy-girl up above pales in rage-inspiring comparison to this bastion of zero-responsibility living.

Just.  Die.

Douchebaggery of the Highest Order.

I may be layed-up, but seriously?  Seriously?  The previous commercial pisses me off more due to it’s inane approach to appeal to the lowest common denominator (and a miracle promise of a $25k raise just for a degree.  I don’t need to say much more)…  This ginger bastard is scraping the bottom of decency.  Scratch that, decency has jack crap to do with it.  This is the ultimate in accountability dodging.  This kind of shit is a slap in the face to anyone who works a job.  Sure, just skip on your taxes, this assjack will make it a-ok.  Everyone else working will foot the bill, it’s perfectly alright– because you apparently deserve respect.  How about treating the rest of us with respect and paying your freaking taxes (like the rest of us), and then you don’t have to fear the IRS (like the rest of us)?  Golly gee whiz, I think I’ve found one of the more obvious holes in America’s fiscal sieve– and my forte is writing… with one and a half hands no less.  Suck on that, Treasury Department.  Pay me.

Jesus High-Sticking Christ on a Zamboni…  I need to get away from the freaking TV, or go on another Netflix and porn binge, before I see that uppity knocked-up broad on the BeenVerified commercials again.  I might hulk out from my allergy to stupid.

I miss being active, and trying to stay loaded is getting expensive.   I think my highway to crazy is finally turning into an Autobahn to Arkham.

Unplug.

Advertisements
Mmmm mmm damn.

Norco, or Vicodin after it reinvented itself.

See that?  Most entry-level pill heads get off on Vicodin, Lortab, or other hydrocodone-based medications… basically the older brothers of these little buffed bastards.  Now, a certain pharmacist I know (legitimate pharmacist, in case there was any question) cued me in on a little tidbit.  These were reformulated with less acetaminophen (read Tylenol, for the uneducated lot that stumbled over this blog due to the narcotic references) because some weaklings were murdering their livers by taking more than the prescribed dosage.  Acetaminophen will do that, because it’s a jerk.

So enter Norco, with a way better hydrocodone to acetaminophen ratio.  Again, lemme dumb it down for the slow kids, more of the gets-you-loaded stuff with less murder-your-liver stuff.  Now, for me, this is a twofold advantage.  One, I’ve been immune to acetaminophen for years, unless paired with something else to give it some balls.   So that gives way to two– there’s no point taking a drug that is going to try and play jackhammer with my liver of steel.

So, here’s my dilemma.  I hate popping pills.  Hate it.  Primary reason?  Look up there, back to my comment about that immunity to acetaminophen.   My body adapts like the freaking Borg when it comes to medication.  Why, you may ask?  Beats me, but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion it has to do with my champion liver, and the Olympic-grade training it has received over the years.  Don’t judge me, I’m now dealing with a byproduct of my own epic nature.  Seriously, this sucks about as hard as– oh yeah, having to learn how to be a lefty.

The goddamn drugs are working about as well as the dolts in Washington (but that’s totally another rant).  Let’s see, they started off with the promise of taking away the pain of surgery, and at first they did.  Now, I take them on the longshot hope that they’ll actually do something for me, so I don’t have to rely on my own tolerance and affinity for pain.  I even try to take them at random in a futile attempt to get some sweet relief.  Of course, tagging along with that Capitol reference, they arbitrarily work when they feel like it.  Go figure.  Sometimes I even luck out and get a little loopy with the intermittent pain relief.

Tonight, I suffer the same fate as I have for the past five days.  Norco has officially boned my sleep patterns, so my sorry insomniac ass is left watching reruns on Adult Swim.  I popped two on an empty stomach, faking optimism that it’d knock me out (thus allowing me to finally pass out on the couch at a reasonable hour).  This is why I’m a cynic, because optimism always leaves you up watching the same lame-ass Axe commercial that’s been running on and off for the past two years.  Shuffle in a shitload of Education Connection commercials with their inane jingle, and I’m about ready to try and choke myself out with the cast.  Oh wait, that’s right, I can’t reach my own damn throat.  Yays.

If only the Norco would work… For you House fans out there, that’s some serious ass literary license.  His liver would have more holes than the whole recurring Vicodin addiction subplot, and no freaking pain relief.

Maybe I should give myself a stranger, not like the drugs are gonna help.

Unplug.