Growling at the TV I said “I hate freakin’ beer commercials”. Qualifying that, I should have said “I hate most freakin’ beer commercials” because of course I love the ones with Clydesdales and puppies or even the singing frogs.
What kind of alternate reality are the commercials trying to entice us into? Because just nope! Nope! Nope! Everyone is not slim with perfect hair and even more perfect teeth (if that’s possible) laughing and drinking beer at impromptu get-togethers on the perfect patio or picnic site.
It just irritates me with the beer commercial lifestyle that is so unlike reality that it should have a disclaimer. Anyone who has tried to step into the beer commercial life knows that reality hits hard. The unpleasant beer belches, the blanket-lifting boozy morning after beer farts. Yeah, those people on the commercials don’t even have the orifices with which to share this loveliness. Not that I want to have that reality in hi def on the big flat screen, but at least put some real people in the commercials to maybe let us know it’s ok for us imperfect ones to enjoy a cold brewsky now and again; maybe even entice us to do so.
The whole scene reminds me of a former colleague of mine who was cool. Too cool for his own good. The little enriched white flour Canadian wonder guy gobbled up the hot peppers off our shared plates of spicy Chinese food. Just because he was so cool. Beer commercial cool in his checkered shirt and trimmed beard. And….. the next morning at our meeting said with a grimace, “my sitting down parts are on fire.” Where is your beer commercial coolness now?
But back to the commercials. There are no wall-flowers in beer commercials. And I may have been one a time or two. So I think I’ll just take my nice cold beer out and sit by the campfire and contemplate the wonderful life I can have water skiing and dancing if I wear the right panty liner. I saw the commercials……