Before I get into this blog entry, I have to give credit where credit is due; a friend of mine (Thanks, Emily!) pointed me to a completely absurd commercial that I just had to talk about.
It’s insane and goofy, yet filled with mixed messages. And people in food costumes.
I’m of course talking about the new commercial for Discovery Health’s National Body Challenge 2009.
Haven’t seen it? You’re not alone. But hey, thanks to YouTube, you’re going to get an education!
For the sake of this post, let’s ignore the weird quasi-fetish on display here (what would you call that, anyway — dressing in a food costume and porking…. A Foody, perhaps?) and focus on the message.
Based on the commercial, it’s implied that the fast foods are the ones who are caring, long-lasting lovers who crave attention and that vegetables are the attractive new flings. Shouldn’t that be flipped around? I mean, I eat burgers and pizza because, even though I know they’re bad for me, they’re exciting and tasty. Does anyone outside of a PeTA rally really see healthy vegetables as the exciting alternative to hamburgers and fries?
Here’s a more honest (debatable) and funnier (because I wrote it) approach to the concept of that commercial….
It’s completely dark. Obscured by shadows, a woman in a celery costume flips on a light to reveal herself and her surroundings. She’s inside a house, specifically a bedroom, and she drops the suitcase she had been carrying. She enthusiastically says, “I’m home, honey! Did you miss me?”
As she speaks, she looks up and sees a man in bed with a woman dressed in a hamburger outfit. The man, completely startled, whimpers out a pathetic, “Hi…. I… didn’t expect you home so–-”
In complete shock, celery-woman runs out of the room and puts a hand to her mouth to try to hold back from openly sobbing.
The man, dressed in a wife-beater and boxer shorts, desperately follows her outside while calling out to her. “Honey? Honey, come back!”
Outside, celery-woman is crying, her face buried in her hands as she’s leaning against the side of the house. The man comes out of the front door and runs to her. “It’s not what it looks like. She was–-”
Celery-woman socks the man in the eye.
“How could you!?” she says through gritted teeth. “How could you do this to me? Don’t you care about me at all? After all I’ve done, I…. I feel like an idiot.” She turns away from him in disgust.
There’s an awkward pause.
“How many times?” she asks.
“Oh, Sheila, that’s–-”
“Just answer me — how many times, and don’t lie to me! How many times did you go behind my back to be with her, or others like — oh God, are there others!? Oh no! No, don’t say anything! I don’t even want to know! I feel sick just thinking about it.”
“Look, I–-” The man tries to put his arms around her, but she slaps his hands away.
“No!” she yells at him. “Don’t you even touch me!”
The two stare at each other in an uncomfortable silence. The man sees pain in her eyes — pain he caused her. She breathes in deeply, holds her chin up and approaches him.
“You’re sick, Jerry,” she says with a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re a pig. And I hope you can live with yourself and what you’ve done.”
Celery-woman walks to her car and drives away. The man collapses to his knees and starts sobbing. The screen fades to black, and white letters appear on the screen: “Vegetables deserve to be treated better. Start eating right today.”
I think I need to stop writing about relationships and couples fighting. People might begin to suspect things aren’t on the up-and-up with me.