11:54 a.m. - 2006-08-18
All Other Condiments Welcome
I've been home most of this week. Not having fun or anything, but on a conference call. All day, every day. Did I mention not having fun?
My HR department meets twice a year at our Dallas HQ for a 3-day meeting. I got out of it this week, since I'm too pregnant to fly, but not entirely out of it -- I had to be patched in by conference call for the entire meeting. I predicted a hideous, mind-numbing time, but it wasn't all that bad: I was actually requested by my boss to call in from home, so I was comfy on the sofa with the phone and a laptop, in my sweats and bunny slippers.
For much of the time, I had the TV on in the background, muted, so I wouldn't have to stare at my walls and sleeping cats all day. In order to maximize your entertainment value in this way, you must be very selective about what you watch. Cooking shows are good. Talk shows are bad. Animal shows are pretty good, but the best shows are surgery documentaries and makeover shows like "What Not to Wear."
TV on mute doesn't exempt you from commercials, though. The one I kept catching with alarming regularity was the one for mayonnaise. Which brand, I could not tell you, but from having watched it numerous times in the past with the sound on, I can tell you that it's the one that starts with the maddening jingle, "Are you a scraper? Are you a digger? It's so hard... to get the mayo out."
I have so many issues with this commercial. It would help to let you know first that I FUCKING HATE MAYONNAISE. It's among the most putrid, vile substances a person could ingest. Don't offer me mayo on a sandwich, don't offer me any sort of pasta/potato/egg/tuna salad made with this stuff, unless you want me to vomit on you. It's revolting, and I'm proud to say that I've never willingly let it pass my lips.
Aside from the fact that the stuff is evil, the commercial itself is beyond ludicrous. I was spared hearing the lyrics to the inspid jingle this week, but my memory wouldn't let me forget how nauseating it is. I'm reminded of the comedian Jim Gaffigan's riff on just how stupid the slogan for Hot Pockets is, which, in its entirety, is "Hot Pockets!" Yeah, that's brilliant! Let's think of something quick, because we have to get to a mayo-filled lunch. Let's sing an ode to the desperation of scraping mayo out of the jar. Let's have it sung by a whiny male voice, who can really empathize with the viewer, and get even more whiny and sad on the line "get the mayo out" like his heart is about to break in two.
And speaking of the desperation: have you seen the looks on these people's faces? This beautiful model-like woman is pounding on the empty jar, poking at its bare insides with a butter knife. She looks positively despondent, as though she just might slight her wrists because she's out of mayo. And I say, if she's that much of a mayo-lover, I hope she remembers to make the cuts vertical, not horizontal, to maximize the blood flow.
And then when these people get their mayo, in the handy squeeze-bottle, the mood changes instantly. No more thoughts of death! Yay! Let's dance around, let me sit on your shoulders while we run in a grassy meadow, for WE HAVE MAYO.
Pumpkin, I swear to you: though you may have to endure sitting through commercials of an offensive nature such as this, I PROMISE you that you will never open the refrigerator door and be face to face with a jar of mayo, empty or full. We will spend our happy days in a mayo-free world, at least under our own roof, and if you want any other condiments, I will be happy to procure them for you. This is my solemn vow.
