Mama's figured out how to dress her lil ones on the cheap, but now she needs a costume to wear while chaperoning her trick-or-treaters? Check the closet! Taking inspiration from FitSugar's incredible tracksuit costumes that help any mom keep up with her kids, I put together a few more cozy outfits.
This commercial gets off to an unimpressive start — take a look at that rat hole they call a warehouse — and it only gets worse from there. "I say, I say, I say" are Frankie and Johnnie selling furniture, dance lessons, or fried chicken? Bad dancing belongs in every low-budget commercial, but I'm still trying to connect the dots between furniture and fried chicken— buy a couch, get a grease stain for free?
This ad starts out as any low-budget pawn shop commercial would: some overly energetic douche stands too close to the camera while begging to buy your junk from you. But William Oliver, the self-titled "Cashman," doesn't settle for run-of-the-mill. He knows how to differentiate himself from the rest — by way of a sleazy jingle and a few scantily-clad backup dancers. Novel, no?
Behold Tommy Seebach bouncing his booty in a forest in the middle of nowhere! Behold the monster mustache on his upper lip! Behold the groupies paid to half-heartedly dance around him and shake it in "tribal" bikinis! Behold Tommy's musical tribute to the Apache people! Behold Tommy making a mockery of Native American culture by perpetuating the stereotypes associated with it! Thanks but no thanks, Tommy . . .
As if the crap for sale at pawn shops isn't questionable enough, these dudes think talking like Ahnold and taking a public leak in the middle of their own shop will compel customers to "get down here now." More like, get outta here now — and they won't be back. Unless, of course, they discover that the oversized diamond engagement ring they bought was really an overpriced cubic zirconia set on a band of fool's gold.
Don't let the awkward dancing and forced hype fool you. This is not an infomercial for another lame-ass "greatest hits" album. It's a low-budget ad for another lame-ass local restaurant posing as a lame-ass "greatest hits" album — natch. What would compel an eating establishment to advertise its low prices and menu options as an album that isn't available in stores because nobody wants it in the first place? The '80s.
Is this just another low-budget commercial for some second-rate, Hooters-inspired joint called Knockers or an elaborate internet parody? It has to be a joke. The dude that does all the talking is as exciting as a tenth-grade geometry teacher, the imported French chef serves up nothing but buffalo wings, and not one, not two, but 15 TVs pack the place. The ad can't be for real, but if you call the number at the end of the commercial, you discover — it's for real. And these pig-headed geniuses exaggerated things a bit so the ad would be entertaining enough to go viral. Mission accomplished.
Sharon and Fred do movies, but they should really do their own sitcom. Just watch Sharon. Her deadpan stare and robotic script reading couldn't be more uncomfortable or entertaining. She's either camera shy or really hates her job. Or maybe she's silently fuming cuz Fred needs to be reminded of their anniversary every year and he never follows through with sending his parents that movie he's been promising every year so they don't have the memories of their every year together compiled into a neat, nifty movie that just might improve everyone's lives. (Cuz that's what movies do; they improve lives.) Or maybe Sharon's just a really good comedic actress. Whatever the case, this commercial kicks some low-budget ass.
A rapping salesman is always a telltale sign of a low-budget commercial, but there's no way in paradise this ad kept the costs down. Any company that books the Pirates of the Caribbean for their commercial, along with a singing sea monster and a bunch of beached mermaids, ain't safeguarding the piggy bank. It all paid off in the end cuz this is the best low-budget-looking-but-high-budget-costing ad that arrrr've ever seen. (Thanks, Jezebel!)
I'm confused. Are we selling furniture, a check cashing service, or unbridled patriotism here? And why is a half-dressed chick shaking her bon-bon while standing atop a couch, why are the salesmen shirtless, and what's with all the hootin', hollerin', and flag waving? And what "thang" are we trying to back up— our lack of clientele? Behold the mysteries of low-budget advertising. . .