Viva Viagra

I’ve been wishing someone would invent a brain cleansing product. The other morning I was walking around the house humming, “And another one bites the dust. And another one bites. And another one bites. Another one bites the dust.” Dunt. Dunt. Dunt. “Another one bites the dust.”

Oh my hell! And of course, that’s the only part of the song I can remember, so I don’t even have the option of expanding the chorus to the verses. It’s just an endless circuit of Queen snippets short-circuiting my “Where are my keys?” thoughts.

The absolute worst song to get stuck in the head is “Viva Viagra.” It will not go away. It is now so permanently ingrained in my  brain that it took me five minutes to think of the real title to the song.

The ED commercials disturb me musically, and they also torture my brain with questions I really don’t want answered. You know the warning that accompanies the Viagra commercial, “If you have an erection for more than four hours, see a doctor or permanent injury could result”? I have seriously spent time wondering about that permanent injury. What exactly is the injury and what is permanent about it?

But it’s the Cialis commercials that drive me crazy. When was the last time your partner said to you, “Honey, how about a romantic weekend for two? I’ve booked us tickets for two bathtubs facing the beach. After we sit and get pruney for a while then I’ll pop a pill and jump in your bathtub. How ’bout that?” And I’d answer, “As long as we dance to Viva Viagra first and permanent injury won’t result.”