Some of the crew here at Glassdog World Domination Headquarters suffers from insomnia (though to be fair the term is used to refer to anyone who spends the night locked in the building as we endeavor to come up with something worthwhile and/or original for you kind and jaded folks out there in Virtualrealityland) and when encountered looking all sorts of dead, respond to nearly question concerning their state of mind with small whimpers or outright screams.
The latter are tolerated because, hey hey, most of feel like screaming all the time for any number of reasons, anyway, so lack of sleep sounds positively normal. On the other hand, those pathetic little cat-like whimpers are really creepy, almost as bad as Jim Carrey’s web site. They’re a bit sad, you know, and we’d try to make them feel better with some chocolate or a can of mixed nuts, but we’re more inclined to deliver handfuls of Ambien or Lunesta, though we’re a bit leary of nasty side effects.
If you’re like us (and you know you are), the only reason to watch late night TV is because the audience is populated by the same people who watch 60 Minutes and Ghost Whisperer – AKA “the nearly dead.” And the only thing they like better than warm pudding or prune whip is commercials about what’s wrong with them and the drug that will help alleviate it.
Lunesta seems particularly fun! In addition to “sleep-eating” and “sleep-driving” (which, one must assume, involves retrieving the sleep-keys to your sleep-car), there’s a chance that in your quest for sleep you’ll accidentally develop breasts (which can be awkward for men, who tend to get them on Lunesta), painful periods (again, awkward for men), suicidal tendencies, diarrhea (leading, one supposes, to suicidal tendencies), depression, hallucinations and… Wait for it… “unexplained swelling.”
Think you’ll get to sleep, now?
It’s hard to pick a favorite, but we must admit we look forward with unaccountable glee to the one starring Brooke Shields where she explains the heartache of thin, mealy eye lashes. Yes, friends, it isn’t enough to provide geriatrics with hard-ons or stick rubber rings inside weirdly happy female bathers’ hoohoos, now we must be concerned that chicks eye lashes are too whispy.
Further investigation online revealed that the drug was originally intended to fight glaucoma, given to patients in danger of losing something fairly precious, which means in their cases the drug was quite important. Then doctors noticed the odd lash-growing side effects. So the drug manufacturer, thinking either “Now we can help all those poor, unfortunate bald eyelid sufferers” or, more likely, “Now we can rake in more dough with a narrowly-defined drug by making women ashamed of yet another physical feature which has no actual bearing on their health or happiness!” (the latter, we’re guessing) then grabbed Brooke to bemoan publicly that her lashes simply cannot hold up to comparison with the caterpillariness of her Andy Rooney eyebrows, and a new market was born.
So you take this shit and wipe it across the edge of your lids and pray to Baby Jesus that you don’t sneeze and blind yourself for the sake of lush, beautiful lashes. You could be spending your money on something important like phantom leg shakes or that vague feeling of ennui after watching anything starring Andie MacDowell (including her ads for L’Oreal where she manages to eke out an emotion about her hair) but we hope you’ll consider giving yourself fat lashes instead.
Hey! This is Glassdog! The only side effects you need to fear from us are a stronger fashion sense and an innate fear of mundanity.