Your average, ordinary commercial for a medication that treats stuff that happens as a person ages (such as arthritis or rising blood pressure)

“Hello!” a smiling man (or woman, depending on the target audience of the show that is currently airing) says to you, even though you can’t possibly answer him unless you stalk and find him/her.  As he/she is talking to you, a violin concerto is playing in the background, or maybe someone playing something similar to “Here Comes the Sun” on a piano.  The person is walking through a park as well.

“I love to do tons of high risk stuff,” the person (who I’m just gonna assume is male, for the sake of easiness) continues, “like deep-sea diving near the Marianas Trench, bungee jumping from Mount Everest in nothing but boxers and a bra, giving my children piggyback rides in construction sites, and eating food with lots of salt and garlic.  I also have rock band part time, in which I do splits during every performance for no good reason.”

The man is now walking through his house, with no apparent noticeable transition.  “But recently, I’ve been suffering from arthritis, high blood pressure, depression, chronic back pain, chronic nosebleeds, muscle diseases with unpronounceable names, encroaching doom syndrome, influenza, addiction to alcoholic beverages, addiction to eating large sausage pizzas with anchovies in the crust, PMS, the Monday blues, seasonal affection disorder, pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, an uncontrollable urge to join the antidisestablishmentarianism movement, antisociopathicpseudoneononconformism, and delirium tremens.  I asked my doctor about this, and he fainted by the time I had finished listing all of my symptoms.”  The man picks something up from the floor and winces as he comes back up.

“So I went to another doctor,” the man says, now in a cafeteria in a state penitentiary, “and he recommended Grogiozingatec-” (or anything else that either ends in “-tec” or has a lot of Xs, Ys, Zs, or Qs in its name) “-to treat all of this stuff.  XXXYYYZZZQQQ-tec, or whatever it’s called, has been proven to work in monkeys and Venus flytraps aged 18 to 867, and has been proven to work in almost every person.”

As a montage of the man making a fool of himself in various ways, such as runnig through a field of daisies while smiling with an expression that can only be achieved through psychadelic drugs, making snow angels in a blue business suit, or licking the camera lens, a disclaimer in microscopic text appears on the bottom of the screen, and an abridged version is stated, rather quickly, by a soft-spoken man with a calming, soothing, almost hypnotizing voice that you really pay no attention to:

“XXYYZZQQ-tec has not been completely proven to work in all people, including presidents, people from Botswana, Europeans, Latinos, Caucasians, Africans, people with low blood sugar, CBS news reporters, Al Gore, and people who have no health insurance.  Side effects that have been known to occur include dizziness, nausea, upchucking on your neighbor’s dog, postmortem depression, lower sperm production, less periods, spitting on your neighbor’s dog, vertigo, an addiction to songs by “Weird Al” Yankovic, hallucinations, daydream believing, lucid dreams, shorter attention span, addiction to Wikipedia, madness, starving, hysterical, anarchy, believing that Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” about you, spontaneous religious experiences, delusions of grandeur, diabetes, wise-guy antics, Jughead-ism, the belief that bovines are blessed, achieving Nirvana, teen spirit, lack of a love life (whoops, you already have that!!), knobby knees, a door-shaped head, a heart-shaped box, giganticism, dance fever, disco fever, 102 degree fever, believing that you shot J.R., broken bones, nihilism, sarcasm, irony, the ability to fly, temorary invisibility, temporary insanity, virtual insanity, virtual reality, loss of awareness, losing your neighbor’s dog, and delirium tremens.  If any one of these has ever occurred to you, regardless of whether or not you are taking XXXYYYZZZQQQ-tec, please see your doctor immediately or consult psychiatric counseling.  This medication has been banned in the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico, Canada, Cyprus, and Nigeria for unknown reasons.”

The scene focuses on the man again.  He is happy; he’s walking through that park again.  He starts to talk to you again, and people in the park, noticing him talking to no one in particular, look worried.  One person whips out a cell phone.  But, anyway, back to the man…

“XXXYYYZZZQQQ-tec helped me get my ridiculously privileged and spoiled life back.  It changed me, and it can change you, too.”  He hides the fact that that’s because the medicine contains psilocin.  The screen transitions to a white screen with the name of the medication, as well as its chemical name and some purple, swirling graphics.

“Ask your doctor if XXXYYYZZZQQQ-tec is right for you.”

Offscreen, the man from the commercial is escorted by nice men in white coats to the happy hotel, aka a psychiatric facility.

 

Wow, I should be a television producer!! ^_^

I had a strange dream involving school, a strange scavenger hunt, an old friend, and mind-altering drugs..

So, I woke up this morning and went back to sleep, and I had this really odd dream:

 

I kinda forgot how it started, but I remember going into my town’s high school and for some reason I had to go down a certain hallway (the interior looked nothing like the actual school, and I don’t even go to this school). I met up with a group of people my age, among them an old friend (a girl [I'ma guy]) who I’d been thinking about lately (haven’t seen her in a while). So we were all on the same team for some reason for a scavenger hunt that had to do with books we were reading for a class (don’t remember all of them; one was Cheaper By the Dozen); a montage occurred to the tune of the song “You Make Me” by “Weird Al” Yankovic (O_o).  It was in some weird library with humungous connected shelves, a desk with a huge encyclopedia and a normal-sized globe, a classroom-where the class was being held, some glass elevators that functioned in a way similar to the video game Elevator, and I believe I saw a Goomba from the Mario video games.

Time was running out (yes, there was a time limit), so I jumped off of the top of one of the shelves to where my where my group was. It was in a kinda crowded space, so I aimed and jumped, landing spawled across my friend’s lap.  I smiled nervously and moved. The teacher (who was my religion teacher O_o) was grading us on how what we found (which could be anything) tied in with our books (each person, even on the same team, had 5 different books). One person mentioned to him that he’d had this assignment in 7th grade, and another kid agreed. Then my teacher went into some weird psycho lecture and then destroyed the word “7th” by putting it on a medium-sized electric train and making it go on a track, in a place we could not see (WTF??).

A bell rang, and my friend and I talked a little before leaving the room. The entire time during that class, I’d tried to get close to her, as if I were attracted to her. As we were walking the halls (which somehow looked like the hallway of the school I go to suddenly), she offered me a Pixie Stick (the candy; y’know–colored sugar in a straw the same color?). It was open and the straw was wrapped in some yellowish, old, almost Egyptian-looking cloth, but I took it, saying, “Sure; how bad can it be?”  (For the record, it was a blue Pixie Stick.)

So I ate some, and I started feeling happier, so I ate some more, as my friend was talking. Soon, we went separate ways (to our lockers; she doesn’t even go to my school, though O_o), and everyone was smiling at me in the hallway, and saying hey and stuff as if I were the coolest kid in school. I threw out a lolipop (I don’t even know how I ended up with one) and then quickly retrieved it from the trash. Things seemed happy, bright, and sunny, and I was happy, as if in some sort of trance.  I had a feeling of euphoria, it seemed.  My teacher suddenly appeared in the classroom by my locker, though, and said “It’s all your fault, you know.” IDK why.  Also, saying something like that is very out-of-character for him, as he’s as kind as Jesus and as loving as God. 

Then, I saw out a window (and this is a strange part) there were two little girls, looked about seven or eight, in scantily clad swimwear, one with her butt sticking out my way (she was wearing what looked like a very short skirt and tight, thong-like panties, both of which were aquamarine), and for some reason I was drawn there, as if I were in some perverted trance, my eyes focused on the little girl’s butt.  I pulled myself away somehow and went towards my locker when I realized–I was in what seemed like a drug-induced altered state of mind.

I figured that the Pixie Stick wasn’t really candy, but instead a mind-altering drug like LSD or something. I was at my locker, but the numbers on the lock weren’t there! It looked more like the volume dial on a car radio or something. Things seemed sunny and bright, still, but I was scared, even in my euphoria.  I somehow got my locker open and woke up in the middle of wondering how I would know what books to get…

I’m freaked out.  I’m not a drug-user.  I’m not a pervert.  I’m not feeling guilty about anything (with the “It’s all your fault” part).  So does anyone have any idea what this could be about?  If anyone has an idea, you can post a comment here, or you can (if you have a Yahoo! account) answer it here (http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=Anxj84dCA5.eoSvNnX.hYzXsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20080525211005AA0BWvv) as I posted this on Yahoo! Answers as well.

When will they start making pick-up lines that actually work?

In all my years of experience, if there’s one thing that never changes, it’s the inevitability of a pickup line failing.  I’ve tried it before, and I’ve found that girls really get tired of hearing why their feet are so tired. (CAUSE YOU’VE BEEN RUNNING THRU MY MIND BABY!!)

Who invented pick-up lines, anyway?  I’m guessing that long ago, way back when speech and conversations were first developed, some caveman or something (let’s call him Oog-Boog) thought he was so full of wit, when in reality he was only full of IT.  So Oog-Boog went up to some cave lay-dee (let’s call her Nicole) and said, “Oo-oog!!” (roughly translated, that means, “Hey, baby– let’s go invent FIRE!”) …Then Oog-Boog got a whooping from Nicole.  And so Nicole was sent to jail for attempted murder and Oog-Boog got all the glory for inventing the most useless invention ever!! HOORAY!! YAY JERK!!! W00t w00t!!!11!1!!!oneone!!

Pick up lines are so infamous, “Weird Al” Yankovic even wrote a son consisting of NOTHING BUT PICKUP LINES!!!  It’s called “Wanna B Ur Lovr” (lyrics here: http://www.com-www.com/weirdal/wannaburlovr.html).  Funny story I once heard is that at one of his concerts he went right up to a girl in the audience during this song, and she took out her camera phone, seizing the opportunity.  Even as he sang the song he just casually pushed the phone away and continued on through the crowd nonchalantly. 

But now I’m just digressing, so to get back to my original point…

The truth of the matter, there really is no pick-up line that works.  Except maybe, “Hello, my name is [your name here].”  And I ain’t talkin’ ’bout no Slim Shady.