Okay, I know we in New York generally get used as a testing ground for new and exciting forms of advertising. And by exciting, I generally mean, utterly confounding. As in, Target posting a series of pictures IN the subway tunnels, so as the train passed by they looked like they were in motion, like a flipbook. Interesting and odd, yes, but even more so when you consider that the there are no Targets in the entirety of New York City.

(Okay…there are some in Jersey, but come on? Who’s going to Jersey to get a discounted picture frame and some new socks? Upon further Chris Trent reflection: Okay, so there’s one in Queens and one in Brooklyn…but…um…well, I’ve never been there.)

I’ve grown used to the fact that companies will try to stun and shock us jaded metropolitan consumers by any means necessary to get attention to their product. I like to think my guard is up, but despite that what follows slipped through my raised gloves and smacked my bitch up.

When watching a Red Sox, Yankee game at a bar, there is a continually palpable tension in the air, even as many of the parishioners try to breeze through their conversations, stealing glances over their companion’s shoulder. This is why those trips to the bathroom are so key. They are a momentary breather between trying to remember an impressive stat, and trying to invent a new term of bereavement for Randy Johnson.

The bathroom typifies solace, so when something breaks the Zen Garden like tranquility, you tend to take notice.

“Hey there!” Baritoned the advertisement hanging on the wall. I was a nonplussed to have a poster talking to me, but that’s nothing new. I went about the business at hand, as the voice continued.

“While you’re standing there, holding your BEEP…” [Beep In Context] Okay…now there’s a poster in my serene bathroom, speaking rather bluntly about my beep. I’m a little more of the stunned. The voice continued.

“Think about this: You could be looking at a whole…extra…inch.”

On the poster there were two kiwi’s pictured one with their usual furriness, the other….um…not so much. Apparently, there’s a new product from Phillips and Norelco, and if you’d like to learn more, just skip right on over to www.shaveeverything.com.

People…I’m all for manscaping. I have no problem with the concept, but am I allowed to be a little freaked out when the bathroom in my favorite bar tells me to shave my balls? Hell, I’ve even throw them a link here, where the curious can investigate in the privacy of their own browser, but goddamn, not in the bar bathroom. It’s a co-ed bathroom fer christ sakes!

Can we just save that talk for the appropriate times? You know, like after the fifth scotch at a family reunion. At least there you have a sturdy enough table to jump up on, and make with the display.

“Look, Nana! I cut it to look like a seahorse!!!!”

Image from Wikco.com Inc