So on late night television I keep seeing this icy gorgeous blonde warning me about testosterone supplements. They can cause stroke, pulmonary embolism, blood clots, heart attack and even death she says. She really punctuates that death. There’s no empathy in her voice, it’s almost robotic. She stares you down without even a hint of pity. She wasn’t hired to make you feel all warm and fuzzy. You can tell it’s bad. It’s not like an honest death. You died because you needed more testosterone, and the gorgeous blonde knows it. That’s the kind of death they whisper about at funerals. And yet you took that supplement because of blondes like her. One of late night TV’s little ironies. But I’ve never taken a testosterone supplement so I will never die and the blonde can stop worrying.
Then just now I get a call. A lady will give me $150 dollars if I took a testosterone supplement and answer a few questions. It’s nothing kinky, alas, just a survey. I thought about lying and saying yes, lady, I’ve taken testosterone supplements. But then I remembered that pitiless stare of the gorgeous blonde. So I said in my lowest voice possible, no lady, I don’t take no testosterone supplements. She said thank you and hung up.
So now some wimpy guy is gonna make $150.
Those testosterone supplement commercials were pretty cool, though. You’d see them late at night too. Some middle aged guy looks tired. Doctor says you’re tired because you are a weak excuse for a man. Gives him some medicine with a terrifying warning about what will happen if your wife comes in contact with it. (Basically her voice will drop and she will beat you up.) Then, next scene, the middle aged guy is getting bedroom eyes from a gorgeous blonde. Little does he know that same gorgeous blonde will be warning him about stroke, pulmonary embolism, blood clots, heart attack and even death as he watches late night TV, too wired and horny to sleep. He’ll watch her and want her and next day get a hundred fifty bucks for his trouble, the pipsqueak.