Mr. Clean, the Brawny Man, and the Charmin Bear
I feel bad doing this because I love the fuzzy little guy, but we’re just gonna have to start off with killing the Charmin Bear. It’s nothing against him — I just don’t feel right putting him through any more torture than he’s been handed in his advertising career. His life has become a strange sitcom of butt-wipes and toilet bowl close-ups that he never asked for (whose idea was it to showcase the toilet paper all over his ass because he forgets to wipe?!) The poor guy was just an unassuming bear in the woods who stumbled upon some toilet paper on a tree branch, and suddenly he gets his sweet life ripped from his soft paws! His whole family has been subject to this same torture for years now without any say in how they’d like to live their lives and it’s simply not right. I can’t fuck the bear — he has a wife and children — so not being able to marry him should go without saying. I mean, I’m not even into bears that much personally. My friend Shawn is. But that’s beside the point; he can decide who he wants to fuck, marry, and kill when it’s his turn to play the game. For now the bear is dead. I just hate the thought of ripping a family apart. If I had it my way, dammit, I’d leave the bear alone and not subject him to such a game! But alas, I have no other option. Fuck, Marry, Kill is a game against one’s own mind; a solemn game; a game with unspeakable outcomes.
So, like, how fucking hot is Mr. Clean though?
That shiny bald head could wipe my counters any day. I’d let that wide-smiled white-eyebrowed man do anything to me, I mean it. Is it super weird, borderline mentally unstable to be attracted to an animated logo? Yeah. Duh. Absolutely. Does that mean I feel bad about it? Get real. Mr. Clean is my fuck-of-choice and you’re lying if you say he isn’t yours. Why? Let me give you five reasons:
1. His name is Mr. Clean. He’s not some messy 20-something douchebag who hasn’t taken out the trash in two weeks and lives off Hot Pockets and $7 tequila. He’s mature. He’s a man. He’s someone with a space you feel good being in.
2. He’s versatile. Have you seen the corners this man can get into? He was built for tight spaces.
3. He’s got a hoop earring — that somehow doesn’t make him look like a pirate nor like a broken artist who’ll claim you as his “muse” for a couple months and then say things aren’t working out because “he’s just grown up and apart from you.”
4. Mr. Clean is a man with values. He wants you and your loved ones to feel you’re in a clean and loving environment. He would scrub your cabinets with that magic eraser so damn hard if that meant that y’all felt good about it.
5. He’s a man of few words but lots of winks. I just think that’s the cutest thing.
Brawny’s advertising slogan online is “paper towels for a truly tough mess,” and when I saw that, I knew we would work well together. I’m a truly tough mess, I thought to myself, I deserve a man who can clean clean that shit up with a single towel. And the Brawny Man does that. Brawny Man is the man to control that mess of a life and make you feel at ease about it. That little red button-up covers up a couple of strong, handsome arms that make a house act as a home. I’d marry the Brawny guy, not just because of his quicker-picker-upper towels, but because of his heart. He’s a selfless, loving guy with a great attitude and nice biceps. He’s a family man — he knows there’s work to be done and he wants to help. I’m not saying I need someone to do the work for me; I’m a get-it-done kind of girl. But Brawny makes getting it done less of a stress and more of a caress. I’d marry that hunky animated man in a second.
You don’t choose who you’d fuck, marry, and kill. It just happens. You take a risk and you trust your gut and that’s all you can do. It’s a tough decision, but it’s one of your own subconscious. That’s just the way it is. ¯\_(?)_/¯
Brianna Pulver is a fourth-year writing major who will not break up a family of bears through an extramarital affair but will do it through murder. Reach them at firstname.lastname@example.org.