Unicorn vs. Hamster

Let it be said that WH and I love Christmas.  A lot.  Here's what neither of us can stand: the adverstising.  One advertising phenomenon in particular makes us both spew.  It's something you may not have noticed, but that once I point it out, you'll never be able to ignore it again. 

During the holidays, the commercials feature what I've heard called the "Unicorn Man."  He's that guy who is attractive, eligible, and smart, with a chin dimple who gives gifts like Lexuses (or is the plural of Lexus, Lexi?) and diamond tennis bracelets to his unsuspecting, yet adoring wife/girlfriend/mistress (In one instance he even comes home from Africa for a cup of coffee with his little sister, but that's really not relevant here).  He is the man who the commercial people have dreamed up, but who does not exist . . . just like a unicorn.  Evidence below:



WH really hates this commercial.  Every time we see it, it sends him into fits -- and he has good reason.  You see, the Unicorn Man only comes out at Christmas (and maybe Valentine's Day). Sure, he might say he's right here and always will be, but come January third, he's history. Sure, he'll reappear briefly around Groundhog Day, but he'll be back in his hole before you know it.  And as WH points out, the man with whom he is replaced is a "Hamster Doofus."  This guy is more like a son than a husband, and needs to be taken care of, chastised, and generally watched over so he doesn't poke his eyes out with the corner of his Doritos chip.  See proof below:



This particular guy has been dubbed by WH as the Yogurt-Stealing Hamster Doofus.  He also does not actually exist. WH had some deep thoughts on the issue: 

How is it that the the guy who is supposed to be strong and romantic becomes a  hopeless Hamster Doofus two months later?  And how is it that this woman who relies on the strong chest of her partner all of the sudden becomes a controlling witch?   I'll tell you why.  Around the holiday season you must buy diamonds and the rest of the year, you must buy yogurt.   You know what I'd like to see, put that cool guy in the kitchen and the Hamster Doofus in the cabin.  I bet you anything that Hamster Doofus would go hide under the table during the storm.

I agree with WH about the men, but good grief, what about the women!  What is that lady staring out into the dark for anyway?  And why is she so terrified of a little thunder?  It's not the nuclear holocaust.  And let's not even get me started on that shrew with the yogurt.  Why should she care if he's talking on the phone with his buddy?  It's yogurt, not the Yalta Conference, for chrissakes.

The reality is that nobody's perfect like the Unicorn and nobody's completely inept and afraid of eating their wife's yogurt.  Husbands surprise their wives with jewelry, and they tick them off by leaving a half an inch of orange juice in the carton.  Boyfriends leave their socks on the floor and they cook gourmet meals on the fly.  Trust me, WH has the best taste in jewelry of anyone ever, and I've called my friends to tell them about my latest gift.  And even though he has eaten the last yogurt, I have never, in all our years, caught him on the phone with a friend discussing his love affair with pineapple upside down cake.