NOW SHE THINKS SHE CAN SING

I don’t throw the word hate around very often—it isn’t a very imaginative term, and as a concept, it isn’t really an emotion worth investing in. But that’s a posting for another time. Right now, I actually have something unworthy of the term: that freakin’ lame-ass excuse of a spokes-whore for Overstock.com.

Now, I’m not exactly sure if everyone will know what I’m talking about. (You could, for all I know, be like my cousin Julie, and TiVo everything—skipping right over the commercials.) But if you’ve ever seen one of those damn ads… then you know. And I mean, you know.

It isn’t just that she’s annoying. I mean she’s pretty enough, or whatever. And, unlike those retards in the Eastwood Insurance ads (or any local mattress store ads), she actually has an on-screen presence—a watchable quality, if you will.

But there’s something about her voice that’s a little unsettling. Somebody told me she was from Germany, so English isn’t her native tongue… but that’s no excuse. If you don’t have a firm grasp on a language—because of the phonics involved, or if you’re just not that bright—you should avoid a career in the spotlight. (That goes double for you, Celine Dion!) I’m not sure what it is about the Overstock.com lady, but her voice/mannerisms get under my skin. Oh I know, I know: don’t sweat the small stuff. But trust me, if I start sweating the big stuff, I’d end up with my head in the oven. (Aside to those who know: they deserve each other. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that one, so stop asking.)

I don’t know if you’ve seen Overstock’s latest ad on TV, but let me just fill you in: it blows, in a way that makes me wish for the apocalypse. I mean, it wasn’t enough for that smug, “I’m cashing in on the whole M.I.L.T.F. thing, even though I’m about as fetching as a day-old casserole” spokes-slut to peddle her tired, sorry-ass wares. No, she had to go and sing. SING, I SAY! All while walking around an all-white (ethnically and decoratively) snowy set.

Yes, she waddles around a set that looks like the town square from Gilmore girls after a nuclear winter, singing about all the crap you can get on her precious little site… to the tune of “Jingle Bells.” And when she gets to the refrain, she’s suddenly joined by a group of back-up singers comprised of Benetton ad rejects. ‘Cause, you know, that’s what us darkies do: we sit around (on our stoop, no less), waiting for some honky to come along, so we can sing back-up harmonies, and clap our hands. OK, we do clap when a good song comes on, but only so the crackers know which beat is the right one, but that’s understandable. Why didn’t they just show them eating watermelon, or tap-dancing?

Damn, I hate that *#%$, you know?