June 13, 2011
Relaxed? Depends.

For the past few weeks, I have been plagued.  Every time my brain relaxes, if I allow myself one moment of mental peace, the tormenter that haunts me is back.  Just behind my eyelids, just outside the cup of my ear, every time, without fail…

"Get back into life, WITH DEPENDS!"

An adult diaper commercial, from years ago.  I don’t know if the good people at Depends are still using this jingle.  It matters not.  When my poor battered brain gets a moment to itself, where it isn’t drained by dread (“Will someone die?  Will Sifu run off with a 19 year old underwear model?  Is that the sound of weinerdog13 barfing on the couch, or just the boiler preparing to explode?”) or wracked with guilt over something I did or didn’t do, there it is again:

"Get back into life, WITH DEPENDS!"

And it could be worse.  I know this, for a fact.  Those months I spent in high school with a three-syllable furniture store ad playing endlessly in the back of my mind (“SEE SEAMAN’S FIRST!”) at the most inopportune moments - the SATs, consoling a hysterical friend - my most faithful companion was always there for me, with advice, or more of a command really - who I was not to fail to see, should I need furnishings (Seaman’s), and when I should see them (first). 

My brain latches onto these things.  I drop into a soothing lull on the bus, and there is that snap to attention, that unavoidable enemy:


As the weeks progress, it becomes more urgent.  It is no request, no suggestion.  I am to get back into life.  I am to do so with Depends.  My brain - and my bladder - wants me to just let go.  Give in.  Give up.  Get back into life, and don’t worry about finding a toilet. 

Depends has me covered.

  1. simianidiot posted this
Blog comments powered by Disqus