The Brit version of our “dollar stores” (everything for a dollar) is named “Poundland”, and every year they spice up their Christmas commercials with something a little more daring. This year was no exception:
Needless to say, the Perpetually Offended raced to the barricades, and the usual bullshit followed.
Now it’s my turn to be offended. I happen to love using sexual banter, innuendo and double entendre in my everyday speech. I think sex is the spice of life, it’s certainly the spice of conversation, and as long as you don’t get crude and crass about it, it serves as both mental gymnastics and flirting.
I remember once having lunch with a coworker who happened to be an extraordinarily-beautiful woman — I mean, imagine a face like Monroe and a body like vintage Nigella, and you’re getting close. As it happened, we decided to have dessert, and ordered: she a strawberry sundae and I, a banana split. When the dishes arrived, we both made a face of distaste.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She gestured at the maraschino sitting atop the sundae, and said, “I hate cherries.” Then she asked, “And what’s wrong with yours?”
I pointed at the chopped nuts scattered all over the banana split, and said, “Ugh.” (I hate mixing crunchy with soft textures in my food.)
Then I said, “Well, I’ll tell you what we can do.”
“What?”
“If you eat my nuts, I’ll pop your cherry.”
She laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks, then threw the cherry at me, still laughing.
I should point out that this incident took place in the early 1980s, when one could say stuff like this and not get arrested for aggravated patriarchy or whatever they call it these days. Nowadays, of course, she’d complain to HR and I’d get crucified, lose my job and never be able to find work again.
I miss the old days. God, I miss the old days.
Oh, and as for the story which introduced this post: as much as I enjoy the occasional finger, I don’t really care much for the Cadbury’s version.
Neat story.
I remember those days so well that I still live in them as I can. This means avoiding today’s nightmarish reality and stay at home. We’ve created a wonderful place to be here so it doesn’t seem to be a prison at all and none of the misfits of society bother us here.
I got my first full-time job in 1985, fresh out of college. At that year’s Christmas in-office party, one young lady got, as her Secret Santa present, two Hershey’s bars and a box of condoms. To truly understand, the young lady in question was pretty, sweet, shy, and quiet (my parents would’ve said butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth). I’m actually not sure if the chocolate bars had anything to do with her being black, but there it is. A good laugh was had by all.
Contrast with today, when they’d have been pulling fingerprints and DNA from the box in order to identify the culprit and apply punishment.
I think the issue is that we’ve stopped acting like ADULTS, who understood the simple rule “Don’t be an asshole”, who were willing to call out actual assholes when they appeared, and who otherwise understood when something was meant in fun (clean or otherwise) and took it accordingly.
Once the rule became such that you could be punished not for what you MEANT, but for how someone else might react, AND people who were offended suddenly gained status as a result of their offendedness, the whole thing collapsed. As strength coach Mark Rippetoe said, “I understand that you’re offended, however I don’t understand WHY that matters.”
Cadbury’s figured out how to to get a thousand dollars worth of advertising for a dollar spent.
(But then again, several years ago, they taught that rabbit to cluck in their commercial.)
I’d be curious to know how quickly Poundland sold out their stock of Fingers…
“Aggravated patriarchy.” Good one. Consider it stolen.
“Nowadays, of course, she’d complain to HR and I’d get crucified, lose my job and never be able to find work again.”
She wouldn’t but her daughter would.
20% extra… Wouldn’t that be like a sixth finger on each hand?
M
Today at work, a lovely young lady asked me to use a pallet jack to move a pallet of goods that was too heavy for her to maneuver. After I had completed the task at hand, she turned to me and said, What would I do without you? I replied, They make toys for that. She gave me a look that made my nether regions tingle.
Mind you, I’m well into my 60s and Miss Sweetcheeks is early 20s.