Let’s face it—an IndyCar that brings TP for my bunghole is the answer to all of my hopes and dreams. Now, IndyCar sponsor Cottonelle thinks their toilet paper is so good at wiping poo from your nether regions that they’ve asked driver Scott Dixon to ask if you’re going commando.
Ahem! Point of order: fireproof undies are good for three to five more seconds of escape time before your buttocks turn to barbecue. I don’t believe for a second that Dixon will go commando in the car, especially given IndyCar’s tendency towards spectacular wipeouts this season.
However, there’s still plenty of time for freeballin’ in the paddock, so we’ll let it slide.
This TMI request is either the best or the worst thing a sponsor has ever done to a driver, and I can’t decide which. For one, the car is, um, it’s a toilet paper car. I am mentally twelve, and poop is still the most hilarious substance that shoots out of your butt known to man. I am giggling at the screen just writing “poop” and “butt” this much. This is perhaps the greatest sponsorship deal in the history of IndyCar, and not just because our former editor has terrible taste in music.
Poop! Butts! Awkward questions about poop on butts! And underwear! I...I can’t even begin to wrap my head around all the butts! And poop! It’s a car! It’s a car about pooping!
Regardless, I feel as if I need to eat a bucket of chocolate covered espresso beans, wash it all down with Jolt Cola and pull the back of my shirt over my head to ask some awkward questions of my own, thank you very much.
TP? Do you have TP?
YOU WILL GIVE ME TP.
Are you threatening me?!
I need rrrrrrrolios for my bunghole!
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THE MIGHTY BUNGHOLE! Run as you may! You cannot escape!
I’m not sure I want to know about your underwear, however, it is of the utmost importance that this car brings The Almighty Bunghole TP as soon as possible. Thanks in advance.
YOU WILL SEND TP FOR MY BUNGHOLE TO firstname.lastname@example.org.