If you search Reddit for “Flo Progressive Insurance” you will get 15 results. Eight of these have to do with a (usually shameful) desire to bang Flo. “Inexplicable” and “weird” are the two most common words used in these titles. Here’s a picture of Flo in case you haven’t seen any television since Bear Stearns was fine:
|“I’m perky as shit which makes you sorta want to bang me…but also hate me…which is confusing for your dong.”|
Flo’s actual name is Stephanie Courtney and she’s been doing these commercials since 2008. When she’s not schilling insurance in a vaguely heaven-like setting she’s a standup comedienne. Seriously, she is. You can watch a clip here. Not particularly funny. Lotta energy though. Lots of energy. I feel like “Lots of energy” is the comedy equivalent of telling somebody a girl has a “great personality” when they ask if she’s hot.
You: So she’s pretty funny?
Dude: [long pause-eyes search room] She’s got a lot of energy. [exhale]
You: Oh, Jesus. Is she worse than Dane Cook? You didn’t buy tickets yet did you?”
I’m just kidding. Nobody is as unfunny as Dane Cook. Nobody.
Anyway, Flo is incredibly popular. Her Facebook page has 3,186,550 likes on it. Which is just a scant 3,186,544 more than the SomethingAuthorly page on Facebook. I’ll let that hint settle in for a moment. Go ahead, open another tab. I’ll wait. Yup, just go over, hit the like button. Yup, just right there. Go ahead. Also feel free to click on one of these banners while your here. In fact click it a bunch of times. You totally should learn Spanish or take some classes at ITT tech or whatever it is telling you to do right now.
I suppose there are so many of these conflicted crushes on Flo because her Facebook page has some rules about vulgarity or some such fuckshit. I don’t know. I lost interest once I saw: 1.) The number of fairly hot chicks posting pictures of themselves dressed as Flo and 2.) The number of comments that involved a play on her name and that of Flo Rida nee Tramar Dillard. He of the apple bottomed jeans, the boots with the fur, et al. First of all, it’s spelled exactly like the state people. Only with a space so as to communicate that he’s actually riding a “flow” in addition to hailing from the worst state in the country. It isn’t Flow-ridah or Flo rider. You sound white when you fuck it up like that.
Since one can’t be vulgar on her fan page one is forced to take it to Reddit and unburden yourself of your unnatural longings for fictitious insurance mascots. And, sorry to break it to you all, but she’s married as well.
Let’s watch one of her commercials:
She is cute and perky but these commercials are horrible. First, this has to be worst store ever created. It’s like somebody took the design for an Apple Store and said, “Whoa, way too much going on in here. Any way we can make this blander and brighter?” The shelves all have the same box on them and there doesn’t seem to be any walls. The store just goes on to infinity. Sometimes they have a checkout counter where Flo is ringing the customer up but then what? There doesn’t seem to be any way to actually leave the Progressive store. Which, I guess, could be seen as a metaphor for the ubiquitous nature of these commercials. In the commercials, you can never leave the Progressive store and in real life you can never watch cable television without running into one of these commercials.
And once you are in that store. You are in. Sure, you might check out. Flo rings you up and gives you a peppy smile and a wink (the wink seems flirty but in a superficial stripper sort of way) and you start walking. And walking. The shelves are shrinking in the distance behind you but nothing is rising in the distance in front of you. It’s just white. You think back to the door you came in. Where the hell was that? It was only like 30 seconds after you came in that Flo was in your face, all crimson lips and name-your-own-price-guns. After awhile you can barely make out the shelves in the distance nearly disappearing into the white background. You’re a little worried because it’s just white out there now and the wind is picking up. Was it windy when you came in? You don’t think so. You check your cellphone, no service. Above the wind you hear the tinkling of cheery but generic piano Muzak. You stop and turn all the way around and it’s white in every direction. Which way were you going? It all looks the same. Then you see something. A line maybe. A smudge of color way off in the distance. It looks like maybe an exit sign. You start to jog. It’s getting closer. Shapes are appearing. Rectangles. It’s got to be something, yes, it is, it looks like people! They must have come in the same door as you! They’ll know how to get out! Ha-ha! Your cute but sexless charms can’t trap me Flo! The Muzak is louder. The wind dies down. The shelves rise up. You can make out a the check out counter. And it’s still the storeroom. And that red exit sign was really Flo’s lipstick and she’s smiling at you with roughly the same smile as those Animatronic puppets at Chuck E. Cheese and now she wants to sell you boat insurance. And you can never, ever leave.
Have an infinite weekend.