The ad: This honk-if-you-love-cheeses winner for France's Grey Goose vodka.
The verdict: Rampant Francophobia, appalling Di slander, enough nudge-nudge-wink-winks to give us goose pimples and other naughty bits that should make all decent Americans ashamed of themselves.
Now, if we could somehow get the French to channel some of that crazy tongue-wigglin' magic to a rock band. Or a car. Or a space program. Or maybe a new national hat, besides the beret.
Stereolab. Citroen. The late Jacques Cousteau, he's as good as any space program. And what's the matter with a beret? The only important thing about a national hat is that you can put a swoosh on it, right?
1. I gave her a screamin' orgasm (with grey Goose). She said, "Keep the change!" 2. I gave him a Black Eye (with Grey Goose). He said, "Hit me again!"
Todd Jay Brunner
So, Todd, you're a bartender. When's happy hour?
The jeune homme isn't kissing his date's neck, he's been rendered unconscious with a blow to the head by the Grey Goose (they have giant wingspans). The blonde is now in anticipatory ecstasy, waiting to be "pecked," if you know what I mean.
We have no idea what you mean, Elise, unless you're making a vulgar Leda and the Swan joke. It's no surprise you wouldn't use your last name with a filthy mind like that. We bet you leer disgustingly when you say, "A bird in hand is worth two in the bush."
Considering what the French have done with the kiss, I imagine they are going to attempt to fish the cherry out of the glass with their tongue. Without disturbing the sleeping couple.
Huh? Rob, have you been drinking at Todd's bar?
Pierre is actually slipping her the "grey goose"-a nifty little-publicized technique, usually finished with a saucy pinch. Do we see either of his hands in the shot?
Just as long as he's not slipping her the brown [CENSORED]. Oh, God, did we say that? We're so sorry! It's Elise's fault!
Judging by the lady's expression, I suspect the man's goose is already loose, and if she consumes any more of this "grey goose" she's going to start hopping and bopping like Sally Cracked Corn on her daddy's knee.
Who? Sally Cracked Corn? Is that Jimmy Cracked Corn's sister? Oh, we don't care.
If he can do that with a kiss (or a goose), forget the vodka. Think what he could do with roofies. Or a sledgehammer. The possibilities are endless.
Roofies? Rik, what are roofies? Is that what happens to your palate when you have shingles?
This ad makes perfect sense! It's based on the legend of the French Don Juan, Pee Air Herman (so clean, he peed air!), who was known to have goosed many a lady at the local cafe while the target of his affections was imbued with the aroma of his cologne, L'Aire de Vodka. By the way, where is his hand?
Ask Krista. What we want to know is, when you pee air, how can you tell when you're finished?
The paparazzi story is a big coverup. This was the last picture taken of Princess Diana alive. Returning from the men's room at the Ritz Palace, Dodi discovered Diana in this uncompromising position-seated on her bodyguard's lap, his lips smooching near the royal breasts. In a jealous rage Dodi pulled out a revolver and a bottle of Grey Goose. He ordered his limo driver to quickly drink eight shots of vodka and then drive them all to oblivion.
Joe, you are one sick puppy. What happened, you send this in before Mother Teresa kicked the bucket?
This is really a PSA. It warns: If you are going to drink a French vodka, just make sure you don't chauffeur any Egyptian billionaire playboys and their tiara-wearing dates, or the couple may end up looking as lifeless as the one in the ad.
Another twisted freak! Too bad you missed the death of Burgess Meredith, you could've smeared another international icon!
Forced to work countless sleep-deprived hours in sweatshop conditions, exhausted models like Clay and Nikki here and millions more like them will nod off, without your help. For only pennies a day, you can join the fight against this intolerable suffering by joining Models for Ethical and Amicable Treatment (MEAT). If you don't help them, who will?
Anna Wintour will. PETA will just love it when she becomes executive director of MEAT.
It's all part of France's master plan to take over the Soviet Union. We all know about Yeltsin's love for vodka. He gets drunk, the French get the Soviet Union and no one gets hurt.
Uh, Jayson, we know it's hard to find a good paper in Motown, but the Soviet Union deal is over, it's ancient history. But you're doing a great job on that milk mustache thing, man.
Obviously this man is an American tourist. He desperately wants to place his head between her "grey geese," but he can't take the odor. The line should be: "The French tend to stink, but your vodka doesn't have to."
So not everyone in France is Zestfully clean, so what?
Although the woman here appears to be sighing from her rising ecstasy, she is in fact trying to casually position herself away from the man's unfathomable "French stench."
So not everyone in France is glad they use Dial, big deal.
Our friend Jean Claude is really Mr. old Spice again. He's obviously intoxicated over the fact that Ms. Frenchie has an even better-smelling set of pits than his own.
Geez, you want some fries with this abuse? So not everyone in France is gonna raise their hand 'cause they're Sure. There are a lot more important things about, say, Gerard Depardieu than his reek factor. Like his weight.
Jacques is so smooth with a bottle of grey Goose in his gut, he could probably barf down her cleavage and get away with it!
Well, the French smell so damn bad, who'd notice?
You've finally uncovered Shirley Partridge's personal secret stash. I knew she had to be lit up when she painted that bus.
The bus was really painted by Mr. French from Family Affair. Shirley just drip-synced it.
This is the world's first vodka to be made from internal distillation. The way this works is quite ingenious. First the French wench swallows a couple of nuggets of "champagne limestone" followed by a drink of "the purest waters of Cognac." After the proper amount of time and heat (the technical term is foreplay), the liquor is uniquely filtered through her body and distilled. The Frenchman gives her a "grey goose," which releases the vodka from her right breast.
How adroitly gauche! Scott, you're a Vermillionaire! We gave your Maurice Chevalier record to a homeless man on the corner of 71st and Second, but he refused it. Apparently, "Thank heaven for little girls" is why he's no longer a gym teacher. But he was enjoying all that cold duck right up till the moment they put him in the ambulance!
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Hey, is this Chlorine Bleeth, that new babe on Poolwatch? The Gitano theme is, "Live outside the lines," but what's so cool about being natty in the natatorium if you're the only one in the water? We're getting all pruney trying to figure this out, so torpedo your deep-end analyses to Adulate@aol.com. Contest not open