Physical Infirmity . . . What's Up With That?
In related news, I just heard the worst new non sequitur I've ever heard in a commercial. (Perhaps I should call it the least plausible train of thought.) But first, the old winner. It opens with a shot of a woman running through Central Park. She stops, and the voiceover says, "I feel distracted. [pause for segue.] Could I be pregnant?" Cue the pregnancy ad. Now THAT's what I call hypochondria! What you didn't hear was the ad agency rep looking at the dailies and saying, "So why exactly did we go to the expense of an outdoor shoot again?"
Anyway, the new ad has a young woman in various short clips celebrating life's joyous moments with her friends. While these pass, the voice-over's saying, "I hope I'm known for my laugh . . . my smile . . . my personality. [pause.] Not for my bladder control problems." Well, I hope so too, you brave gypsy. But if you're actually KNOWN for your bladder control problems ("Oh god, here comes Pissy McWetter again. Don't give her any Dasani."), you should already be looking into major surgery. I think I can save the ad, though. Just open it with a group of friends, including Our Sufferer, sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant.
FIRST FRIEND: Say, everybody! Let's go check out that new public fountain downtown!
OTHERS, IN CHORUS: Yeah, Great idea!, etc.
OUR SUFFERER: Gee, I'd rather not. Look . . . look at the time . . . (she runs off, crying.)
FIRST FRIEND: Gosh, what's wrong with Sally?
SECOND FRIEND: She was like that last week at the waterfall, too.
THIRD FRIEND: And she totally missed last month's log flume!
FIRST FRIEND (rubbing chin thoughtfully): Hmm . . . I wonder . . . .
(Shot of miserable Sufferer, alone on the subway, looking wistfully over her shoulder. Cue the original voiceover.)
See, pharmaceutical company? I just saved your credibility AND salvaged a multimillion dollar commercial campaign! And all I ask is that you cover the cost of my rent this month! I take deutschmarks and krona.
Okay, I've just spent three hours lying in bed and breathing because my body couldn't handle anything more complicated. But a tablet of Loratadine, while not exactly a miracle drug, has brought a mild twitch to my central nervous system, and I feel like standing up and, I don't know, walking around or something. So I think I'll go to the 42nd Street New York Public Library and edit puzzles for a few hours. And if I see a clue that reads, "What's a ten-letter word for the generic form of Allegra?" I'll be all over it.