I’m not a fast food kinda girl. That isn’t to say I’m against junk food, because I will buzz through a pile of Kit Kats like a chainsaw on its period. But even I noticed when Wendy’s commercials appeared on all my favorite channels. Other than drunken, 1AM conversations where I create the perfect fast food burger meal — Burger King burger, McDonald’s fries, Wendy’s Frosty (for the dunking of aforementioned fries) — Wendy’s had fallen off my radar.
Then suddenly, there she was: the REAL Wendy, copper tresses neatly bobbed. Wendy Thomas, Dave’s little girl, was personally pushing me to buy Wendy’s burgers. I loved it. I felt warm and fuzzy, the way only memories of your mother weaseling her way out of cooking for the evening can.
But with this warm glow came a creeping sadness. A serious flaw in the Wendy’s ad campaign refused to be ignored. Wendy Thomas had changed. “Where’s the Beef?” had been answered.
Wendy Thomas was fat.
I do not say that to be cruel, sitting here in my glass house. I’ve been known to shop in the husky aisle. And I am certainly not saying every pitch woman should have lips and tits that weigh more than the rest of her combined. But when you have a heavy-set woman representing the young, skinny, icon from your youth, gushing how a ”Dave’s Hot and Juicy” burger will do you good, it is a little like a hollow-eyed drug addict touting the joys of heroin. It is impossible to not say, “Yeah, I used to be thin too, girl. But those damn burgers of your Dad’s fucked that up pretty good. I see he got you, too.”
Real Wendy Video:
But wait! No sooner had my soul twisted with guilt over noticing Ms. Thomas’ girth, before the hot redhead showed up. Almost before Wendy had a chance to finish waxing poetic about her late father, a young, cute, redhead appeared like morning dew on a drive-thru microphone stand. Adorable actress Morgan Smith Goodwin tacitly implied SHE was Wendy. She didn’t say she was “Wendy,” but if a dude showed up at McDonald’s with red hair, white face, and a vaguely “creepy uncle” air about him; you’d assume the poor bastard was Ronald for the day.
Wendy Thomas was the real Wendy. Morgan Smith Goodwin was the hot Wendy. I was left with the urge to draw a good witch/bad witch comparison, when the only crime committed by Ms. Thomas was to remind me I had aged and people who rocked out to Duran Duran with me were starting to need butt-lifts.
I was being tested.
My emotions hadn’t been toyed with like this since that cute boy who, much to my glee, ultimately peaked in 8th grade. What made me want to buy a Wendy’s burger? Nostalgia or sex appeal? Or had they pulled a rope-a-dope, drawing me in with substance and then attacking with the hot chick in case a young male lurked nearby?
Fake Wendy Video:
Why put the viewer in this predicament? If you want to go with nostalgia, go with nostalgia. Don’t undermine whatever impact it might have had by immediately following it with a commercial featuring a younger, hotter version of your nostalgic star. She can’t help but pale in comparison, and that just isn’t fair to her, or the money her Daddy’s company paid your stupid asses to create the commercials and buy the ad spots.
Can we be happy remembering the square burgers of our childhood? Or do we want… NAY — do we NEED — to believe we can eat Wendy’s burgers forever and never gain an ounce?
I dunno. Someone hand me a Frosty and some fries and let me chew on it.
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