by Liz Maimone
Somebody please kill me. Just beat me over the head with this God forsaken piece of nonsense.
I don’t know if I’m more upset that there’s now a stick to assist in wiping your butt, or the fact that I’m confident at least one person I know will buy it. And when they do, I will disown them on the spot. I don’t care if we’re in a crowded Denny’s. Or it’s my own mother. This can’t be forgiven the way buying a Snuggie can.
Unless you have a medial condition that prevents you from doing so, I just can’t fathom why anyone could possibly need a toilet paper baton to wipe their own behind. Seriously, people.
I think my favorite part of their little television masterpiece is when the crazy lady refers to toilet paper as “archaic.” This just in: you still have to use ole fashion wiping paper with the Comfort Wipe. And to think we’ve been wasting all our time trying to cure things like cancer. And then there’s Mr. Large And In Charge. He makes me chuckle. I wish he had saved his $19.99 to buy something useful. Like a subscription to Hustler. Or ten Hot Pockets.
Oh, America, how I love you and hate you at the very same time.
I could imagine using this with a certain toddler that I know. In fact I think I've found what I'm buying the person I'm married to for Father's Day.
Don't judge. :)
Posted by: Kara | June 15, 2009 at 08:34 PM