I'm not quite sure how to lead in to this video without making myself sound like too much of a loser. But I ask you, what's the point of having a web log (aka "blog") if you're not going to expose your foibles? So I'll just lay it out. In the early 1980s, I was a college student at BYU trying to adjust to life knowing that the woman I loved was married to another man. I wanted to fall in love again -- I probably missed being in love more than I missed my freshman girlfriend -- but every time I went out on a date, there was just no chemistry. Mix in the unrequited love with a tablespoon of shyness, two cups of sexual repression, and a dash of voyeurism, and I had all the ingredients to become a 40-year-old virgin with bicycles and cats and vaseline coupons.
When I first saw this Juicy Fruit commercial, I fell in love again. It's the blonde with the purple top. Again, this is embarrassing, but I used to study on the living room couch in my apartment with MTV turned on so that I could catch a glimpse of her whenever this commercial appeared, which was about once every four hours during its peak rotation. I had to endure awful videos by the likes of Duran Duran and Cindy Lauper just to catch an infuriatingly quick glimpse of my beloved. I had a whole story built up around her. Maybe her car broke down in a remote area, and it was hot, and she needed to remove her sweatshirt . . .
An odd thing about seeing this commercial again for the first time in more than 20 years is how it does nothing for me anymore. I was hoping for a rush of emotions similar to what the guy in Mumford experienced when he opened the box of his adolescent smut. You'd think there would at least be a residual tingle.