JUST EAT THE FOOD

"Um, there's food in your hair."

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BITCHES LOVE JUICE (SLUTS LOVE CITRUS)

I live in New York City and see weird sh*t everyday.

  • An old Russian woman with no teeth tongue kissing her dog
  • A black man with rainbow dreadlocks wearing a pink tutu, drinking from a can of tuna
  • Bros

It takes a lot to shock me. But on my way to work, this ad did just that:

It’s Tropicana’s new NYC ad campaign. In case you couldn’t see, the arrow is pointing to a bottle of orange juice.

So here’s the thing, Tropicana. I have never seen two ex-boyfriends on the subway train at the same time. EVER. I ride the subway at least four times a day. And I’ve dated at least 7 million people in this city.

(I know. The numbers don’t add up. It’s weird.)

But seriously, what are they trying to say with this ad? “Hey ladies! Thirsty? Drink this OJ and forget about those mistakes you made your sophomore year of college!”

I just imagine some guy named Jeb at Tropicana Corporate like, “Now if there’s one thing I know about promiscuous women, it’s that they LOVE juice. Right? Right?” And everyone around the conference table nodding in agreement, “Sluts sure do love citrus, Sir!”

If you ever DID see two of your ex-boyfriends on the same train, in what scenario would a carton of orange juice make it better?

I can picture it now:

Jenny enters the train.

Things are going well until she notices Bill, and Dan! Oh no! Not one, but two of her ex-boyfriends!

Jenny reaches in her purse, struggling to find her savior: that smushed up carton of orange juice she bought at the bodega yesterday. She attacks the little papery envelope with her nails but can’t tear it apart. People on the train start to stare. “Got it!” she yells  triumphantly holding the carton above her head like a golden chalice.

At that moment Bill notices her and comes over, “Hey Jenny! How have you been?” he says.

Terror washes over here face. “Nuh uh!” she blurts, guzzling from the carton, eyes closed tight, shaking her head from side to side. Little beads of perspiration forming on her brow.  

“Ummm… Ok?”, Bill mutters and backs away, instantly reminded of why they broke up in the first place.*

Just then ex-boyfriend #2 Dan saunters over. “Yo Jen!” he says. “Crazy to bump into you! What’s going on?” But Jenny just closes her eyes even tighter and starts humming to herself “Narrrrr, narrrr”, sucking down that tiny carton of orange juice like her life depends on it.

“Jen WTF is wrong with you? Is there even any juice left? The carton is empty!” he blurts.

“Narrrr narr” she mumbles frantically, tipping back what is now an empty carton.

“23rd street!” the conductor calls out and Jenny walks off of the train.

“Thanks Tropicana!” she beams giving the thumbs up to a non-existent camera behind the garbage can.

REAL LIFE:

If I saw two of my ex-boyfriends on the train I would introduce them to each other and then sit in awkward silence, waiting to see who cracks first.

I have no problem with uncomfortable situations. In fact, I thrive on them as vampires thrive on blood.*

 So come at me, ex-boyfriends of the world. I’ll bring my OJ. It’s gonna go down. 

JUST EAT THE FOOD


* She’s f**king crazy (great clip on this here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N007irODH9s )

*I know this is true because I read it in Twilight, a great little series by Stephanie Meyer. You should check it out if you haven’t heard of it. I think it’s gonna be big.

Filed under tropicana fungicide funny comedy girl nyc collegehumor the pit nyc the peoples improv theater orange juice bitches hos

  1. justeatthefood posted this