Blogging the Commercial I Just Watched: Delissio Pizza
The car pulls up to the house and the delivery guy emerges, pizza in hand. (Isn’t he a little old to be a pizza delivery guy? Oh well, hard times.) The woman answers the door in a (fairly modest and age-appropriate) negligee. She invites him in, and though he acknowledges that he is not supposed to do so, he enters the house.
Next scene, they’re in the house, on the couch. “Now that’s delivery,” she says, which must be some sort of double entendre because she is totally coming on to him, or maybe it’s not a double entendre at all and she is in fact pathetically stupid because no one actually mistakes those frozen pizzas for real delivered pizzas. (Doesn’t matter. In either case, I think they’re gonna do it!)
Then someone switches on a light. It’s their son, and in a voice that’s sulky even for a teenage boy, he huffs, “It’s not delivery, it’s Delissio, and you’re not a delivery man, dad!”
Then: “No wonder I don’t have any friends!”
Kid, that’s not why you don’t have any friends, and I’ve also got an idea about why you’re about to be homeless.