You Read the Fucking Label. I’m too Manly for that ShitSubmitted by w_t_a_y_s_t_r_m at 2007-01-09 09:44:49 EST
Rating: 1.5 on 23 ratings (23 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve cut down on smoking, drinking, masturbating at work, shooting pelicans and organising badger fights, but lately I’ve been in real shitty moods over just about everything. Just the slightest, mildly annoying thing will set me off into a completely pissed off mood.
At work last week I drank a lot of Pepsi. Nothing special there, except they were from a multipack from home. Also nothing special. If anything, I felt the benefit of saving a few coins and getting the same refreshing, fizzing, tooth rotting delight I’ve grown to love. But what pissed me off was the fact that plastered around the top of the can were the words “44p RRP”, clearly indicating that should someone decide to sell those cans on, the price for them is a suggested 44 pence. Fair enough.
But then on the back of the can in small writing are the words “Only to sold as part of a multipack”. This sent me into a completely pointless rage. But why the fuck would you suggest a price on the same packaging that you use to tell people they can’t sell them? WHY? If anyone knows the reason behind this, don’t tell me because I really don’t care. I’m over it.
Regardless of the packaging, I drank plenty of the contents and ended up needed to go to the toilet. I headed down to the toilet, pushed the door open and then half a second later walked back out. On the way back up I quizzed every man I passed with the same question on the off chance they might know the answer:
“Why the fuck does the toilet smell like a Happy Meal?”
Had McDonalds really begun to dominate British culture so much as to overtake the single gents toilet in the building? Was this some kind of Happy Meal air freshener that was part of some brand new marketing campaign? No. I think that the fat, ugly bastard that works in operations actually drove twenty miles to the nearest McDonalds, brought a child’s lunch and then sat on the toilet while he ate it.
The clues are all there. He’s fat. He smells like Happy Meals all the time. He looks like he touches children. If that’s not enough to get a conviction for making the toilet smell unbearable for someone who is clearly bursting for a piss, then the justice system over here is no better than the ones we enforce on other countries.
I shouldn’t have to leave the toilet because it smells like someone has slaughtered a cow and a potato in there. Not that I have anything against McDonalds, because I’m a child of that generation. I’m not the sort of person who walks around saying “Personally I’d never eat anything from there.”, because it doesn’t sound like your interesting or high standing, it just makes you sound pretentious, even if you are doing it for all the right reasons.
And then last night I was sat down on one of the rare occasions that I decide to watch television. There are very few programmes that I can sit down and enjoy properly, which are pretty much just Scrubs, Family Guy, Lost, 24 and the odd Simpsons episode. All the British series that I enjoy either don’t run anymore (This Life, etc) or last for about six episodes and are just comedy quiz shows (8 out of 10 Cats, Never Mind the Buzzcocks, etc), which is another thing that pisses me off.
Last night I watched an old-ish episode of the Simpsons on telly. And sure enough, right smack bang in the middle of what is an average 22 minute episode, came the stupid bastards that think I’m going to buy their car insurance because they have a catchy jingle or I might buy Lynx because I truly believe that’s all I need to attract seven million indistinct, ugly women.
Amidst the adverts I found myself cutting my arms through were roughly four hundred different adverts for pain killers, constipation relief, something to help with my thrush (thank god), various sanitary towels and every other medication for every problem short of losing a limb. And during every single one of these piles of crap were the words “Always read the label”.
I won’t read the fucking label. I don’t need to, because I have a certain level of common sense.
With medical science the state it’s in, I won’t be getting knocked up anytime soon and I have no major diseases. I don’t need to read the label. I need something to get rid of my fucking headache that these bullshit adverts give me.
I risked reading one of these labels once, and my life was none the better for it. Instead I had just wasted ten minutes trying to work out if I was allowed to take Acetylsalicylic Acid, before I released that was just aspirin.
That is, of course, a lie, as I’ve never been stupid enough to need to. If I have a headache I take a cheap, over the counter tablet for it, and if I have anything worst I go to the doctor. And if the tablet makes me worst, then I suffer it, because that’s what men do. At least the A-Team would, and if I can’t try to live up to their standards, I can’t call it living.
They way I see it, if it’s poisonous they wouldn’t be advertising during prime time, so what’s the worst that can happen?
Instead of having these warnings splattered over already piss-poor adverts, they should just have a general warning to scroll across the bottom of the screen during every commercial break:
“Use common sense. If you do not have any common sense, do not do anything.”
Of course, this would cripple a lot of advertisers, as only retards would use a lot of their products or fall for their advertising regularly. If I paid attention to even half of the adverts I saw in just half an hour worth of telly, I’d have four kitchens, six mortgages, seven cars (three of which would be the same car), two insurance policies and roughly four hundred thousand accident claims against my employer, family, friends and complete strangers.
I’d also be eating more vegetables and quit smoking completely and report myself for not paying import duty on cigarettes.
this is so stupid even im close to regretting it already.jpg