Take one minute and one second to watch this:
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…….This commercial? I haven’t seen anything this gay since that Michael Bolton Christmas sweater party at Elton John’s house, and there was a double rainbow that day. Cat women everywhere rejoice. Who is the marketing director over there at Fancy Feast? And what does this commercial have anything to do with cat food? I know nothing about the ingredients, health benefits, nutritional value, flavors, nothing. I was prepared to see “Every kiss begins with Kay,” and instead I got a bowl of low-grade tuna and a meowing ball of cotton. What’s more startling than the advertisement itself, though, is the commentary that followed. Take this one for example:
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I LOVE THIS COMMERCIAL!! Thanks for showing me my dream man/dream proposal!!!!!
….creepier than a mustache at Chuck E. Cheese’s.
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You know you’re a woman when a cat food commercial makes you cry.
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Actually, Ms. Killzee, you know you’re a hopeless, lifeless, forever single, Chicken Soup For The Pet Lovers Soul-addict when a cat food commercial makes you cry. You need help. The professional variety.
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Such a adorable ball of Persian kitty fluff!! I wonder how many guys are going to steal this idea to propose to their ladies??
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…Hopefully none. Dear, lord. Are these people joking?
Finally, a voice of reason stepped in, but it sparked an argument:
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What a faggot
@LBtownMayor You’re awfully defensive. Afraid your wife will see the commercial and start looking for a man who’s not afraid to show affection?
This brought a tear to my eye. This was very moving.
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The Diary of Anne Frank was moving. The commercial about animal cruelty starring Sarah McLachlan’s song Angel was moving. This flamboyant cat food commercial was not, in any way, moving. It was creepy. Creepy and weird.
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I love this commercial it makes my heart melt I miss my cat who I had for 19 years, this cat makes me want to get another. I guess I will one day, I still feel like I would be betraying my cat who passed away.
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….Thanks for not only completely irrelevant information, but also your hilariously embarrassing feelings. Also, punctuation wouldn’t hurt.
Ugh. People. Cat people.
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If I were Tiger Woods, I would have just taken my billions of dollars, purchased a home in a remote area in the Caribbean, and disappeared from the world a long time ago. Why hasn’t he done this yet? He’s never going to get out of the horribly deep hole he has dug himself into. The cheating, the strippers, the poor golf game, the terrible, never-ending publicity—-there’s no way out, Woods. Hop on a plane, never to be seen again. It’s the only way.
Well, that’s enough about cats for one day (get it? Tiger is a cat, too. I’m terribly clever). I’m going to go to bed meow.
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“Becca, don’t take Taco Bell sauce packets seriously. I had one propose once. Thank God I didn’t go through with it.”
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