Wednesday, July 13, 2011

No. 130 "The Scooter Store."

The other night while sitting in my can't-sleep-it's-three-AM-must-watch-TV stupor I came across an advertisement for a product that broke the fourth wall and asked it's audience (consisting solely of vagrants, meth-heads and myself) four simple questions aimed to gain membership into their elusive club. First of all, I love when commercials involve their audience and quiz them on whether they or a loved one have been affected by Mesothelioma or if they were interested in the rewarding world of veterinarian assistant care (basically cleaning up pet feces for eight bucks an hour). Anyway, the ad went something like this:

I could garner from the questions asked that this ad was obviously targeting bar hounds, drunkards and borderline alcoholics. I frantically searched for a notepad and pencil, then answered the questions myself to see if I might qualify.

Do health issues limit your mobility?
I'm not exactly sure if being out of shape and white is considered a "health issue," but whenever I attempt to join a game of pickup basketball, I am picked last after the kid with one arm. My mobility on the dance floor has also come into question from unimpressed bystanders, but I have always deduced it to be out of jealousy. Aside from that, the occasional hangover makes movement, as well as loud noises and bright lights highly egregious. Even a twenty foot walk to the fridge to retrieve a liberating glass of water can feel like a death crawl through a Vietnam jungle. So I guess the answer would be, Yes.

Is it difficult to get to the bathroom on your own?
That kind of depends on the scenario. At this moment, I would have absolutely no trouble making it to the bathroom and giving my toilet a golden shower. However, I do pee on the seat periodically when I'm concurrently attempting to style my hair. This is the reason why whenever I have female guests over, I piss in the bathtub or kindly ask them to use the bushes out back. Every now and then I will have trouble finding a bathroom, and must solicit the assistance of friends or illiterate busboys. Usually, after gaining directions to said restroom, I can handle the rest on my own with nary a hiccup. Despite the fact that every bar on the western hemisphere assumes that adults need an "attendant" present to help guide us in the hand washing department. I drove here six beers deep, I think I can handle the paper towels, Latrell.

Do you feel like a bother to others due to your lack of mobility?
When I'm lit up? Nope. I had no qualms letting my friends and/or bar staff help carry me out of said establishment while knocking over beer bottles and mixed nuts. Although, once reality sets in the next morning, I become embarrassed and spend the entire day texting thinly-veiled apologies marinated in subtle jokes to my friends who I offended. "Whoa, dude. Got fucked up last night, sorry I nailed your girlfriend. I guess you should call off the engagement." Or "I don't remember anything that happened at your party, but I'm pretty sure I killed your cat with a hatchet. My B." For this question, I'll answer Maybe.

Have you fallen in the past 12 months?
I could probably count the number of times I've fallen in the last twelve months on one hand (if that hand had 327 fingers). I consider myself a relatively sturdy person, but I can lapse into clumsiness in certain instances. Whether it be from attempting to dunk a basketball in front of big booty hoes or preforming a walk-and-turn during a field sobriety test. For the most part, whenever I fall, I make sure to resiliently return to my feet and compass the locality to see if anyone had witnessed my unfortunate fall and captured it on video to post on YouTube. So far, I have not fallen victim to the adroit ridicule of Daniel Tosh, so I consider myself lucky. I do believe my falls, trips and stumbles would diminish rapidly if I was riding around on a power chair, though. So my answer is Yes.

Seeing how I qualify, I can now cruise about on my custom scooter scot-free instead of having to rely upon Wal-Mart's broken down Soviet-era electric wheelchairs which I use sporadically until I'm escorted out by store security for knocking over a pyramid of tampons. This power chair could completely change my life. Not only will I immediately gain access to the front of any line. I can now finally attend my black grandson's baseball games, be welcomed to the family table instead of having to eat meals by myself in a dimly lit basement, and spin in circles until I vomit uncontrollably.

I'm not sure as to why the producers of this commercial felt to need to feature so many geezers, but it was too advantageous of a deal to turn down. This Doug Harrison fellow seems like a stand up guy, (pun!) although its kinda ironic that he's bald. I'll try not to mention that to him when he personally drops off my power chair or scooter and shows me the mechanics of the product. I will, however, demand that my scooter be decked out with racing stripes, spinning rims and a top-of-the-line stereo system. If I'm going to roll around on a scooter, I wanna be looking fly for the ladies.

Oh, I almost forgot. In addition to acquiring a free power chair or scooter, I also receive a lighted magnifier! I can't even begin to count all the times I needed a magnifying glass and a flashlight at the SAME TIME. Once, I outfitted one of my own by binding them together with duct tape, but it never gave me accurate results. Those things must cost a king's ransom; and Doug Harrison is just handing them out like hooker coupons on Las Vegas Boulevard. I'm lucky to have seen this ad, otherwise I would be using my feet to get around like a schmuck. Thanks Scooter Store!

Editor's note: I'd like to apologize to the throngs of senior citizens who read my blog religiously that might have been offended with this post. I try to be an equal opportunity offender and feel as though I haven't given you old farts your due. Now go back to scolding children, judging minorities and not walking.

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