Personal Messages from Your Ill-Advised Purchases

Hey there! Remember me? I’m the entire DVD collection of some obscure 90s TV show you bought because your friend said it was just so fucking funny! And remember when you got me home and popped in the first disc? Remember that? Remember that awful feeling you got when you realized that I’m not really funny at all? When you realized that, in fact, I may be the stupidest show to ever be on television? And that your friend must be a total moron just for suggesting you buy me? Remember?

Yeah, that was awesome.

Hey buddy. I’m that enormous box of penis-enlargement pills you spent sixty bucks on “just to see if they work.” Did I work? Did I make your penis any larger than it always was? Even if it was only a teensy little increase? Did I give you more confidence?

Or did I give you a hard-on and a migraine at the same time? Did I make your poop turn an awesome greenish-blue color, or what?

Yo, dawg. I’m the rap CD you bought around Christmas because your buddy said it wasn’t really “rappy”, but that it was “something new and different”. What did you find out when you first played me? Wasn’t I full of clever lyrics and interesting time signatures? Wasn’t I politically aware and intelligent?

No, that’s right- I sounded like every other rap CD ever made at anytime, anywhere, ever.

Hey there, Handsome. Remember me? You don’t? But I’m the pair of eighty-dollar skinny jeans you bought because you thought it might help you score with the hottie behind the counter who told you you’d look awesome in them. Damn you looked sexy in those jeans!

Hold on, no, I remember now. You ended up catching your balls in the zipper when you tried to squeeze into them and had to ask the hot salesgirl to help you out of them. She and her other hot friend from American Eagle laughed at you when the EMT asked you why you were trying on jeans too small for you in the first place.