Take me to your TP.

Nutty Hubby and I don’t usually watch a whole heck of a lot of TV. What we do watch can usually be found on Food Network or Space, where the majority of commercials mercifully exist only to point out what else you could also be watching on those channels.

But American Ninja Warrior has returned for another season, and we like watching people fall off obstacle courses. So, with trepidation, we have ventured back into the realm non-themed programming…and found ourselves caught squarely in a bombardment of ads focused solely on butts.

I’ll admit, there’s a lot I can’t tune out. A dripping faucet will have me MacGuyvering all sorts of solutions to keep the noise at bay until we can get to the hardware store for a washer. When the upstairs neighbors crank up the bass, I start eyeing my husband’s samurai swords wistfully. I suspect I have at least some level of misophonia, because the tiniest human-generated sounds will drive me insane. (I used to have a coworker who clicked his pen incessantly when he was thinking. He hasn’t been seen in a while…1)

Which is why it’s so surprising that TV ads don’t generally bother me. I turn down the volume for the neighbors’ sake if they’re explosively loud, and sometimes I instinctively sing along to the catchier jingles, but other than that I just ignore away until the real show’s back.

Nutty Hubby, on the other hand, who is one of the most patient people in the world and the best multitasker I know, starts going a little loopy when an annoying ad gets played repeatedly, and will make sure to state just how much he hates it every time it comes on.

This is usually my cue to look up from whatever I’m reading to see what could be so offensive as to grate on The Patient One’s nerves.

And last night’s culprit was a doozy:

Yes, that woman did just snoop in her friend’s bathroom cabinet to take a photo of magical radioactive purple toilet paper, and yes, her friends just laughed it off like this was perfectly normal behavior. Because apparently finding the ultimate product to wipe your tookus with is so incredibly important that all decorum, privacy and sanity all go out the window immediately when a new challenger appears. The needs of the fanny outweigh the needs of the few.

Y’know, this is why anal probing is a thing.

Think about it. This commercial ran at least once or twice per commercial break, and once I started paying more attention to the ads, I realized there was a second, entirely different TP spiel from another brand that would consistently air a few ads later. That’s two or three butt-centric promotional spots in the span of a few minutes, repeated several times per hour. Throw in the creepy Charmin bears…

Someone get Child Protective Services on the phone.

…and any aliens watching our television broadcasts are going to think that the real secret to Life, The Universe and Everything is somehow linked to our asses. They need to find out what’s so goddamn special up there that we literally cannot go about our daily lives without being secure in the knowledge that come hell or high water, our toilet paper will not let us down.

So the next time you have a close encounter with a probe-happy extra-terrestrial, you know who to blame. Royale can take their stupid Velour and shove it.

They know where.

 

1 …because he accepted a better job offer at a different company. What did you think, I killed him over a clicky pen? Nah, that’s just a maimable offense, max.

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