Take two of these and nudge me in the morning.

So anyway, as someone who enjoys the redundancy of watching every episode (for the 12th or so time I might add) of Star Trek: The Next Penetration every day on Spike, I’ve developed a…familiarity…with the daily advertisements on the station. Now is it just me…or is Penis Pill Bob really starting to scare the holy be-Jesus out of anyone else. For those who are unfamiliar, Penis Pill Bob is this guy on the commercials for Enzyte – “The once daily pill for natural male enhancement”. Translation: herbal dick pill. Sub-translation: NO MEDICINAL PROPERTIES WHATSOEVER – can’t actually do anything to your willy. The ads feature said PPB in a series of situations, wandering around aimlessly, doing day to day suburbanite sort of things, with this perpetual glowing beam on his face (most likely due to the fact that he’s got so much blood in his cock that he can no longer control the muscles around his mouth). He golfs with a boner – and sinks a hole-in-one, he goes swimming at the neighborhood pool party – only to emerge from the pool sans shorts and at full salute (much to the awe of the other guests), he can’t keep the cheerleaders off of him at the local football game – much to the dismay of the opposing team’s fan base (the opposing team is the IMPS - four of the super fans all have a letter from the team name on their chests, a fifth guy comes by with an L on his - you figure the rest out), hell his very presence causes the neighbor’s garden hose to go…ahem…limp. And I’m not so sure it’s PPB that scares me so much as Mrs. Penis Pill Bob…a.k.a. – The Happy Tee-Partner Back at the Clubhouse (as she was referred to in the Golf scenario). First of all, this lady’s just on the ‘had five shots of tequila too many’ good side of repulsive. I can’t fathom why PPB would want to waste a perfectly good, chemically enhanced hard-on to fuck this woman. Every time she sees him, she gets a ‘glow’ on her face that could break a mirror. You get all of this insanity set to a soundtrack eerily reminiscent of music from Leave it to Beaver (if that’s not pun-ny, I don’t know what is).

Goddammit these people really irk me. And I know it’s not their fault, they’re just actors. The ad folks at Enzyte are to blame. They’re the ones who came up with the bright idea to torture my existence with these freaky fuckers. One commercial had the PPBs’s neighbor, Steve or something (and Mrs. Steve btw), over for dinner. Mrs. Steve was looking quite depressed as she stared at Steve’s cocktail weenie (seriously, it was a cocktail weenie on a toothpick). PPB has Steve call Enzyte, next day, they’re all back in the PPBs’s, samba dancing in the living room, just a pitcher of margueritas away from the orgy from hell. I shudder to think what these fuckers are going to come up with for this asshole to do next. If I had my way, PPB’s giant, six-million dollar, bionic wünder-phallus would break off in Mrs. PPB’s ass, killing them both (him from extreme blood loss, her from a terminal combination of shock and incurable constipation). Gee Wally, that’d be swell!!!