In a suburb of New York City, in New Jersey, on a cul-de-sac, in a bedroom on the second floor of a two-tone house, there sits a man. The man to whom I am referring is myself. It is my parents’ house.
In the room in which I am sitting, there are things strewn about, because I have just moved back in until I can move to Brooklyn, NY. These things include clothing, blank CD-Rs and DVD-Rs (because nobody in his or her right mind uses +R), computers, beds, guitars, and a very old dual-deck tape player boombox. The boombox is made by a company called Realistic. I've never heard of them outside of this tape player. If you have, I'd like it if you kept that little nugget to yourself, so that I can feel like my reference is obscure enough for the hipster community, so that I will maybe, finally, be accepted (although this is probably still somewhat unlikely). Basically, I'm asking you to keep it to yourself for the benefit of my ego.
Inside the tape deck, in deck #2 (which, surprisingly, is the deck on the LEFT) is a tape by a band called Restless Heart, a band that struck the perfect balance between rockabilly and 80's rock. This is one of my favorite albums of all time for reasons I will not divulge. Not because they're embarrassing, but because they are extensive and unrelated to this particular bit of prose. I will, however, tell you that the album’s title is “Wheels,” because I think you ought to listen to it.
To my left, on the desk, is an advertisement that I removed from an issue of my friend Dave’s Sports Illustrated. I ripped it out because Dave moved out and left it behind, so I knew he wouldn’t mind. It is an ad for Irish Spring's new body wash. It is a color ad.
The copy (that's the industry term for "text") reads as follows:
"I like my freshness like I like my emotions: bottled."
It goes on to talk about the body wash, where one might acquire more information about the body wash, and what company owns the copyrights to the body wash (I believe strongly that this particular part of the copy is supposed NOT to be read, because it is small and in a lighter shade of black than the rest of the ad. I guess you could say it's gray. Also, I believe this because I don't think anyone gives a shit, and people who make advertisements know that fact).
When I first read, "I like my freshness like I like my emotions: bottled," I was a bit confused. Were they being serious? Or were they joking because all of the people who read Sports Illustrated Magazine are jocks, and all jocks are known for bottling their emotions? “That helps win games,” I thought, “So maybe they figured jocks would find it funny, and secretly bottle up the feelings of exploitation and unrest that it had caused them, which would make them win more games.”
It seemed like a logical option. I figured, though, that it was probably not that.
But then I'd left myself only one option, and I was forced to grapple with the hard truth that the ad was serious. It was trying to convince me that it (the ad) likes both freshness and its emotions bottled, and I think it was trying to make me like those two things in the exact same way!
Luckily, though, I was able to realize that just because the ad WANTED me to like my emotions bottled, just like the freshness of Irish Spring Body Wash, doesn't mean I HAD to like them that way. Realizing that made me laugh. And then cry. Then I yelled at my dog because it ate half of my sandwich off of my plate.
Then I became aroused by an advertisement with a woman with blond hair and very shapely breasts and buttocks. She was saying that every good cocktail has two things in common: Grey Goose and a glass. I wanted to have sex with her immediately, so I knew she had to be right.
At this point you’re wondering why on Earth I’ve wasted your time with this story. Well, stop your haughty complaining and I’ll tell you; I'm having a Grey Goose party tonight, and you're invited. Because I like you.