| And my AXE |
[Jan. 11th, 2009|09:48 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  predatory | ] |
This journal entry is an interruption from my usual inane, pointless rambling on video games and the culture surrounding them and from silly internet videos serving little purpose other than amuse myself and about 3 other people. No, this journal entry will be a reflection of the former me, an entry crafted of words that drip with such cynicism that the very punctuation marks shine like a car, freshly waxed in satire: A product review.
The Product: Over Christmas, I received a gift-set of AXE men's bath products. The set consisted of shower gel, 2 colognes, and an aftershave. The back of the box featured women holding up mug shot boards, presumably in an attempt to lead the consumer to notion that these women did such horrible, sexy things to men wearing AXE products, that they were arrested! I hesitate to postulate what sexual acts could be so base as to warrant them being made illegal. Regardless, my first "AXE experience" was with the shower gel.
The Claim: In this Bath & Bodyworks world of fragrance availability, with every plant, food, or celebrity that one could possibly associate with a favorable scent being tacked onto a bottle, the need to have a creative name slapped onto a bottle is essential. I don't know about the rest of you, but the last person I would be interested in smelling like right now is Britney Spears. She's probably a mixture of booze, child vomit, and home-style grits. Color me curious!
I'm off topic. This particular brand of smell-good is called AXE Boost: Volcanic Stone Extract. Excellent. This alluringly red gel was inevitably the equivalent of smearing myself in the extract of sulfuric magma. I would apply it and be transformed in a noxious cloud of walking death. Wherever I went, men and women alike, would be falling violently ill around me, their lungs poisoned by the fumes of my shower products. Upon use, I was disappointed to find that the scent was less toxic, and more akin to children's cherry cough syrup.
And on the back of the bottle, there was the claim. The AXE EFFECT, it's been called, patented, packaged, and made available to me and you. It reads, (this is paraphrased) "The Axe Effect may result in, but is not limited to, unrelenting attention from women, and/or long nights." What a stunning claim! In instructions so simple a caveman could follow them, all I had to do was lather the product on, rinse it off, and step out into the world to become accosted by all the women who would have otherwise never given an overweight, glasses-wearing oaf like myself the time of day. Heck, they might even do things to me that would get them arrested. And how would my girlfriend react? The moment I stepped out of the shower, she would surely do things to me that are just too hot for LJ.
The Experiment:: So I applied the miracle gel, despite the pleasant nostalgia it gave me for wanting to spit cherry cough syrup all over whichever parent was tasked with shoving the foul liquid down my throat. Those were good times.
I proceeded into my room, where Jennifer was fast asleep, taking a bold step over the threshold and pausing for dramatic effect. Of which there was none. She continued to sleep. Interesting, I thought! It must take time to set in. If it worked too soon, the product would be worthless. You'd step out of the shower, be assaulted by women, and need another shower! Yes, the fine makers of AXE were clearly considering the nation's water usage problems when they invented this.
Well, Jennifer was going to be really in for it when it did kick in, because our plans yesterday were to go to South Coast Plaza, an establishment that festers with the very women portrayed in the AXE adverts. Women too obsessed with their own sense of self-worth, fashion, and body image to do any more than shoot a blank, passing gaze at all but the most attractive and equally shallow men. Yes, South Coast Plaza. A mall of wall-to-wall stores of two-name fashionistas, born and bred for their sheer ability to throw said names onto the placards of store fronts, and charge thousands of dollars for a single clothing article, granting you the ability to resemble models wrapped in bedsheets with fancy clasps, and sunglasses that nearly devour your entire head. Dooney and Bourke! Dolche and Gabbana! Johnston and Murray! A veritable cesspool of an indulgent culture single-handedly keeping the economy afloat with each swipe of their gold card. Yes, I knew as soon as I walked in with my AXE shower gel clad body, South Coast Plaza would be changed forever.
As you can imagine, that was not the case. There were no women charging toward me to catch but a whiff of my freshly-bathed self. Mall security did not show up and ask me to leave, lest my very presence steal the women and disrupt the mall's cash flow, and thereby the entire US economy. And worst of all, no women were arrested for committing lewd acts they could not prevent themselves from committing after indulging in that sweet scent of cherry cough syrup. The AXE effect had failed me.
Unwilling to concede defeat just yet, we vacated the mall after making a small jewelery purchase with the gift certificate Jennifer was so graciously bestowed for her birthday, to eat. We entered Rubios, another fine establishment built for the yuppie consumption of baja themed meals, giving them the distinct notion of partaking of Mexican cuisine, without actually having to cross into the desolate wastelands known as Mexico. Another failure. No one took notice of me, not even the two female cashiers who took my order in a rather sordid fashion not even characteristic of the usual Rubios customer service oriented fare.
My last hope was Jennifer. We came home and snuggled close, engaging in a thrilling evening of playing Persona 4. Perhaps you just had to be THAT close for the AXE effect to truly work! Yes, this would be it! Of course, how could the product actually produce an effect that would drive ALL women bat-shit crazy for sex? Think of the natural disasters, the disruption in the work force, the multitude of men grosser than even I who would resort to the AXE effect. But if it worked in closer quarters, against women who were already kinda in to you, hey, that would be an achievement for body wash in and of itself.
So in a lull of Persona 4, I gazed longingly into Jennifer's eyes and whispered sweet nothings of romance. Something about kisses, I'm sure. Her response? "Your breath smells like shrimp." Utterly decimated was I.
Conclusion: The "Axe Effect" fails on multiple levels. The sulfurous death cloud promised in the scent's name is little more than a false, cherry-infused rouse, and worst of all, no flocks, no hordes of women give a damn about the fact that you are wearing it. Making matters worse, not even girls you are ALREADY romantically involved with are even that attracted to you. The one of the three promises and it made, and did live up to, however, was the long nights. We were up until 12:30 playing Persona 4. Thanks, Axe.
Final Judgment:2 out of 5 stars. The Axe, and its effect, is a lie.
Scott has been wearing Axe shower gel for two days straight now, and continues to test his hypothesis. Results are yet to be seen for Axe products used in tandem with other Axe products, or other varieties, but there is little hope for that either. |
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