Wednesday, July 7, 2010

One day, I will own the magic bullet.

I certainly, truly plan to.

My younger sister and I are of an odd sort.

Sure, as small children we awoke on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons, like every other stereotypical lil munchkin in the world. We indulged in Ren and Stimpy, Rocko's Modern Life, Angry Beavers, Powerpuff Girls, Cow and Chicken, and various others on a regular basis.

As we got older, however, we did not go the way of the teenager, and sleep in until 1 in the afternoon, as so many others do.


We found a new method of entertainment:


These fascinating and enthralling long term commercials captivated us just like those Saturday Morning Cartoons used to back in the day. With their underpaid, mediocre actors and false promises of more hair, cleaner floors, and slimming beverages, we couldn't help but watch for hours. We would swear to each other that one day, we would purchase the products for each other, and share them amongst ourselves. Then we would be truly happy.

There was one commercial in particular that had our eyeballs glued to the screen every time, without fail, above all others.

The Magic Bullet.

The Magic Bullet was the epitome of the perfect infomercial: The appetizing food, the man with the British accent, the absolutely terrible actors, the chain smoking hag, the hung over balding fat guy-- The Magic Bullet had it all, and could do it all. Quesadillas, smoothies, salsa, pasta, milkshakes, you name it, it could produce it. It was enough to make us cry out with desire whenever the phone number would pop up on screen.

The most enthralling part of the Magic Bullet commercial was, however, the scenario.

It fascinated us that the makers of the commercial figured they could actually make us believe in the story: Yuppies having a big sleepover, waking up hungover, to be treated to a delightful breakfast, then lunch, then dessert, all in about an hour, all made in a blender, because thats how it works in real life, you know.

The two highlights of the commercial would most definitely have to be Berman and Hazel.
I feel that someone else's words fit best here, so I present to you the summaries of their characters from "" Enjoy.

"Berman, who coincidentally or not resembles Chris Berman of ESPN, staggers into the kitchen wearing a wrinkled shirt and tie, supposedly the clothes he slept in because he was too intoxicated to change out of them before blacking out. You see, Berman is a drunk. And that's not my speculation. The Magic Bullet infomercial explicitly states that Berman enjoys getting routinely hammered. When he first ambles up to the counter, Mick offers him a daiquiri by saying, "What about a bit of the hair of the dog that bit ya?"
Although the Magic Bullet infomercial may be vague on what actually happened at the "barbecue" the day before, you can be certain that several of Mick and Mimi's lampshades got intimate with Berman's scalp. After years of work by organizations such as Alcoholics Anonymous to treat alcoholism as a serious medical condition, it is good to see an infomercial for a kitchen appliance reviving the stereotype of the funny drunk."

"Even more memorable than Berman is a delightful woman who goes by the name of Hazel. We first encounter Hazel as she shuffles in behind Mick and Mimi uttering the classic line, "Did somebody say 'Muffins?'" Hazel's housecoat may be frumpy and her hair may look like a condo complex for lice, but she compensates for these little flaws by keeping a cigarette perpetually dangling from her mouth. She never seems to get around to flicking off the ash from her cigarette either. Our lady Hazel somewhat resembles former MTV VJ Kennedy, given a few years and a few thousand cocktails. Hazel is definitely the odd woman out in this upwardly mobile group. In short, Hazel represents a stereotype—The Aging Barfly—which is a more likely consumer for the Magic Bullet than the coiffed suburbanites who make up the majority of the people invited to Mick and Mimi's party."

Brynna (the sister) and I already have a strict, sworn-to pact to buy each other this "ultimate party machine" at each other's weddings.

Because we know that our lives will truly not be complete until we too can say,

"Hello. My name is Erin. And I own the Magic Bullet."

1 comment:

Krystle Forester said...

I love you! haha Very entertaining report;)