Tylenol Drunk
Can you see this ad campaign:
A guy rolls out of bed wearing one shoe, and a pair of soiled briefs. He slams onto floor, clutches his forehead and tries fruitlessly to separate himself from the sea of empty beer cans he’s sinking in. Cut to…
The guy desperately scrambles into the bathroom, and throws the door shut behind him. The sound of retching peals like a bell (but by a bell, I mean a bell that sounds more like dry heaves really than anything else). Cut to…
A toilet flushes as the guy pulls his throbbing head out of the toilet. He reaches a trembling meathook toward the medicine cabinet, wincing in pain as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
He opens the cabinet and grabs some Tylenol, rubbing his temple with one hand. Cut to…
Close up of the guy struggling to open the fucking stupid child-proof bottle. “Mother F - ” he shouts and spikes the bottle into the bile filled throne.
Fade to a close up of a guy easily opening a non-child proof bottle of “Tylenol Drunk.” The voice over says “Tylenol Drunk: Because I don’t have kids (that I know of).”
Does this product exist? It should. Although my Tylenol PM bottle isn’t child-proof (the only one I’ve ever seen), and Gus got into it, and I kind of understood for about four seconds why they make them child-proof. Luckilly, I came back to my senses after I counted the pills, realized he didn’t eat any (he enjoys “sucking dye,” probably because he’s heard his old mom saying she wants to do some “sucking dry” and was confused).
Luckily, the little tike wasn’t trying to take his own life. To be safe though, we’re now enrolled in family counseling two times a week to work out our problems. I found out he has abandoment issues stemming from when he was barely four weeks old, and he was ripped from his mother’s teet and sold into a puppy mill. I’m like, God Gus, if you’re bitching to me about being sold into slavery, you’re barking up the wrong damn tree.
And besides, he should know there’s no barking in the house.
