True to their name...

Well apparently Sprite, has quite a few of these commercials, and I frankly find them hilarious (says my sordid sense of humor!) Sue me!

And if anyone knows anything, a sprite in folklore is known for being a mischievous little creature on occassion. So I guess the brand Sprite is harnessing the spark and puckish implication of their name and releasing that into their brand identity via these ads.

So here's one more for the road...if you're thirsty: Enjoy!

If it REALLY taste like Sprite...

...then dammit I need to move to Germany! *wink-wink* lol...j/k! Or am I??

Check this shit out (WARNING: NSFW):

**click on link above**

Man-o-man, I wish I had been


the...no, THE pervert to think up this advertising genious! I mean, yeah sure, they managed to get Sprite banned in Deutschland, and all, but I think I blame this on the captions.

*side note*: Imagine having THAT on your resume:

Kimberly C. Dubb

*Lead Ad Executive - Ad Agency of Terrific Ads Co. - 5/2008 - present
- Created risque, avant garde ads promoting featured Sprite soft drink for German market, featuring white lady fellating strapping black male
- Stirred enough controversy from Sprite ad to ensure brand expulsion from said German market

**References available upon request**


I mean really, since when in the history of bobbing for apples did one ever think to want a Sprite? Maybe some water, maybe some alcoholic beverage, maybe even a breath mint...but Sprite?? Okay, maybe it has happened, but her thinking about it looks so....boring. And then judging on this chick's reaction, she surely wasn't that damn bored.

In my humble, "Christian-like" opinion (*wink* HEY! don't judge me!), she should've said something more like, "I really wish this taste like Sprite." Now, that my friends is much more plausable.

Give it a second.

Think on it.

See, now? Hmm...I think I could go for a Sprite right now. lol! *wink*

In with a bang...

Okay y'all, my loyal dozens and doughnut holes of readers! I'm back!! Ya miss me??

Huh?

Huh?

Please say, "yes."

And of course, what prompted me into picking back up the proverbial tablet and pen to scratch down my thoughts...none other than death. Who's dead? Well, dammit where do we start? Let's see, Ed McMahon, done. Farrah Fawcett, really an angel now. MJ, went to meet the Big Gloved One in the sky. *tear*



But, I guess I'll have to discuss the one that (in my humble-esque opinion) is the most interesting. The one who went out with a BANG! (yes, that 'effed up pun was intended.)

Not funny, but that's the way that Steve McNair's Fourth of July weekend transpired. Man. =(

Irony of all ironies...born on a holiday (Valentine's), and died on a holiday (the 4th). Because of "love" he went out with some real fucked up kind of "fireworks." I mean, it's hardly a secret that many celebrity athletes cheat; must be encoded into their DNA, or something. In fact, I think by my non-scientific observation, I'd say about 75 - 99.9% of all sports figures cheat. I mean, look at the nature of their respective sports.

Baseball, those bastards' season last like 365 days of the year, (including leap years or some ridiculousness like that), all I know is they STAY on ESPN when sometimes I just want to see some basketball or football...not a boring ass game that takes eons for SOMETHING to happen! Ugh! (Go Marlins!) Can you tell I like baseball???

Okay, I digress. Anyhoo, my point is baseball dudes stay on the road, away from the old ball and chain wife & kids. And well, chances are as high as Redman puffing on herb in a broom closet, that any red-blooded man doped up on some 'roids is going to need to let out that manly urge to mate. Enter....groupie hoes! They're a dime a dozen, found in any city near you.



Then take basketball celebrity cheaters, stories and rumors are notorious in this sport, throw a rock at any team roster, and you're bound to hit a cheater. Side baby-mamas, STDs, rampant divorce...all that. Most wives are probably lucky to survive the 82-game season with their marriages still intact.



And now good old football. Take your pick, but one of the funniest, two words: Ron Mexico. (google it).



But this one, Steve McNair...just plain sad. Fucked up, and sad. I mean, just as when I twittered about it, I was being dead-ass in the midst of my foolishness...but people really need to learn to ration out their crazy. McNair, should have seen that this little girl, YES - LITTLE GIRL (I'm sure she just graduated primary school yesterday), wasn't ready. She hadn't learned to deal with her crazy. Hell, even I didn't learn how to properly deal with my crazy until I was about 22 1/2 (Don't judge me because even then, it was never of suicide/murder porportions-type crazy!)

I mean, most professional groupie hoes know the deal. Certainly yes, a good percentage of them are prone to delusions of grandeur at times a la Karrine Steffans (a.k.a.: Superhead), but I think most know that they're the side chick, and if they don't complain, stay quiet, and keep out the spot light, Celebrity Sports Dude Du Jour will hook them up handsomely, and break them off on the dickdown when they're in town; but certainly don't expect to suddenly be the new wifey, uh-huh. Best they can expect is to either find some way to harness their crazy, bottle it, and parlay that into some sort of 15 minutes, OR pray for a condom slip/delayed pull out, and try to bank on the sperm-fertilization lottery - where they can milk 18 years of ch'sup out of it. There's gotta be a handbook on this sort of thing, no???

But see, this young chick, Saleh Kazemi, obviously did not read said handbook, and just got ridiculous with it! I mean, she goes from working at D&B and driving a Kia to working at D&B and driving an Escalade. Hey, it's not that much of a step up, but baby-steps folk....baby-steps. But she wanted to go leaps and bounds expecting my man, McNair, to up and divorce wifey of 12 years (TWELVE - can we say alimony??) to marry her, keep buying her Barbie dolls and happy meals, and taking her on trips here and there to go to both Chuck E. Cheese & paragliding...?? Really?? But yes, really. She did. She didn't know her role, and decided to create her own Lifetime Orignial Movie.



Now we have another dead celebrity in our wake to mourn, and goad on about his legacy and about his brilliance on the gridiron. Part of me wants to feel sorrier for Steve though, but I just can't help but think if he'd have just kept his pinga in his pantalones, and if love would have brought him home (Toni!), I wouldn't be blogging about him right now. He could've had a hotdog, some ribs, with a side of potato salad, baked beans, and corn...and enjoyed his holiday. Only bullets he'd have had to have worried about were the stray ones being shot from the idiots who fail to heed the warnings about shooting guns instead of fireworks into the night sky...NOT the ones pointed at him point blank by the wrath of a woman scorned.

Fellas...celebrities and non-celebrities alike...let's learn from this, m'kay...Love the one you're with, and...

DON'T.



DO.



CRAZY!