We’re not sure exactly WHERE this TV commercial came from, but it doesn’t matter – it’s really funny. Obviously the product being advertised is the most lifelike HDTV imaginable…..
About The Author
DOES THIS COMMERCIAL MAKE YOU WANNA BUY A TV?
…………yep.
Maybe it’s from Argentina or Spain.
omg, that was scary! Those poor people probably peed their pants.
Peed? Hell, I would have done more than that!
Princess Johnson: My 9/11 Memories
I was modeling ski-wear on the rooftop garden of my chicly decorated Tribeca
penthouse…
I was chilling with my coolies when “T” Tania came to relay
that the terror hit the hot town:
helter-skelter comin down…
Me and my boys was just tossing back that cognac
and my girl “T” Tania Tayback was rolling cigars and text-messaging Iman
when the first plane hit the side of the building.
…Not our building, thank patti labelle!
The sky went white –
whiter than the fragile tips of my brand new platinum highlights –
– whiter than my celebrated, high-yellow fesses
before I divorced that shady, stinky guido, white-panty-fetish husband of
mine,
and I could finally tan by myself in the nude on my own freakin island!
OK?
Then there was a boom boom boom skattack! Boom!
and then a nasty smell –
soft plumes of silver smoke, deadly silence
and then the screaming.
Was King Kong destroying lower Manhattan?
Had the Star-Chamber Reptilians ushered in nuclear mayhem at last?
…I said a silent prayer.
Maybe it was only that Jennifer Lopez had farted,
and some people had passed out.
We didn’t know!
I mean, the view from my building is stellar, but it’s not that stellar.
I had been pumping one of my personal favorite jams from my latest
cd on my fresh Hello Kitty box,
but my unique vocals were drowned outfor a hot second
by Miss “T” Tania Tayback, rolling around the floor and screaming bloody murder.
“Fistina Faucett says they’ve blown up the White House!
“George Bush is dead! — ”
I was confused.
“Fistina Faucett had a bomb?”
“It’s a terrorist attack!”
I couldn’t take it all in.
One minute I was featuring my new Christmas jumpsuits
and trying on La Perla brassieres
and the next minute my whole beautiful world was turned upside down.
I mean – when it rains it really does pour!
I had finally dieted back down to a freakin size 8
and I had made plans to leave for Aspen that night.
Talk about bad timing!
I mean, we had just ordered cheesecake factory and frankly,
that afternoon I was feeling sexier than ever before,
and so confident about my body that, god damn it,
Miss PeePee really wasn’t featuring another freakin disaster that week…
I must have blacked out.
The next thing I knew I was lying nude on an exquisite Hermes divan
in a plane –
being flown to Connecticut for psychiatric observation.
Apparently, after the second building exploded,
I had underwent a complete mental and physical breakdown, right there on my roof.
I’m told I ripped out my hair extensions
and I wrote, “J-Lo sucks” all over my stomach and the back of my thighs
with self-tanner .
(I’ll get you, Britney Spears!)
Oh my god, I smashed Baccarat glasses all over the floor
downstairs in my country kitchen and – worst of all –
I destroyed forever my prized collection
of Princess Diana commemorative plates and tea cups…
Oh, it was awfuI – I had to throw my pager out the window!
I woke up nude on Puffy’s jet.
…Oh, no. Don’t feel sorry for me.
Girls, I woke up in his arms!
The last thing I remember, before I blacked out,
was “T” Tania Tayback, up in my grill and all loud in my ear:
“Bitch, for the last time — This is not about you!”