Like most sex kits, the Bedroom Party Pak is a repackaged assortment of odds and ends swept up off a Chinese sweatshop floor. To get a better understanding of what this mind-numbing box of stupid is all about, we’ve decided to climb inside the head of the unfortunate girl on the package.
Care to join us?
“OH. MY. GOD.
What in the day-glow HELL am I doing here? I have a degree in physics for God’s sake. Do these jerk-offs know that “pak” is spelled like “pack” or are they just trying to be cute? Jesus Christ, I hate that font. If those American Idol people called me back maybe I wouldn’t have to be a walking advertisment for “duh.” Crap! The director is asking for a sexy smile. Better pop another Oxycontin.
Get a load of that puke-green vibro cock ring. Who designed that, Lorena Bobbitt? Maybe they should have called her instead. Oh well, gotta pay the rent. Great-Now I’m the face of “Big dumb box of jelly sleeves that 1979 doesn’t even want back.” I’m going to kill my agent.
Seriously, this Guido here is about as appealing as a bucket of AIDS. How about a little space, Captain Rape Face? And do you have to stare at me like you want to wear my skin?”