I don't really recall what year it was, but I know the Budweiser "Whhhaaaazzzzz Up" commercials made their debut many moons ago now. Whenever I figure up years gone by, I start by deciding if this event took place before Rowdy and I met. In this case, I know it was. So, my guesstimation would be that they aired 7-8 years ago, maybe 9.
Anyways, like all good beer ads, they were rolled out during the Super Bowl and, almost instantly, every young male I knew was borrowing this ridicules phrase from the Budweiser guys, not only using it to answer questions, but also randomly whipping it out into the peaceful silence. Two words are coming to mind right now: "Brandon" and "Schreck." He was still in high school at the time. We worked together and, I swear to God, if I had a penny for every time he said that in a three month period, we could sell all these fucking cattle and retire on a tropical beach somewhere.
However, like all pop culture fads, this faded into the abyss, stuffed back in the recesses of my mind. I hoped it would stay there, that I would never have to think about this again. But, alas, I was wrong. Such is the comedy of life.
In the last couple of weeks, my youngest boy Rolan has developed a comedy routine of his own. It goes something like this here:
He wiggles up close to one of us. He's a real cute kid and I'm not saying that just because I'm his mom. Trust me, I think about how much money I could fetch for him on the black market and it's tempting not to take the fat cash and head of to before mentioned beach. (Just kidding, simmer down.)
Anyways, once he is next to us, he lets out a ripping fart that would pride any large, hairy, flannel-clad trucker and then, with his eyes as wide as half dollars, he says, "Whhhhaaazzzz that?"
Now, I know it's not quite the same phrase as the Budweisers guys, but the fashion in which he belts it out sounds just like them. He summons the words from deep in his chest and, as they leave his precious lips, his voice is as raspy as a 30 year smoker. He then rolls on the ground, triumphant in his gassy victory while I look at my husband, who is of course beaming with pride that his boy discovered the humor in farts all by himself, and wonder if perhaps I should've selected offspring from a different gene pool. (Calm down, I'm just kidding. You know Rowdy's my guy.)
As soon as Rolan started doing this, it felt eerily familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Then last night he whipped out the comedic routine once again and it was like some twisted, pop culture de ja vu. And it hit me, it's the freakin' Budweiser guys, that commercial that I lamented for months. I wanted to throw a keg party when Budweiser switched to the frogs. (Wait, did the frogs come first? Either way, they were better.)
So, there you go, Readers. I think this is a fine example of the great comedy of life. Everyone else loved those commercials, all but danced in the streets when they come across the television screen. Not me, I hated them. Yet, somehow in a cosmic mystery, my darling son has channeled this absurd ads that aired before he was freakin' conceived to use in his two-year-old stand-up routine. Rowdy is soooo proud, so proud.
In case you've forgotten those commercials, take a moment to walk down that memory lane.