I always want to laugh at this commercial, but I stop myself because of the fear that King Karma will come enlarge my prostate while I'm helplessly sleeping. As funny as this constantly peeing old man is, there is another Avodart commercial that's even better. It stars a middle-aged man whose vocation is to shrink objects from outer space and put them on display. He realizes that his going problem is, in fact, a growing problem. Taking a cue from his hilarious job, he then asks his doctor, "How can I shrink it?"
On my list of things I never, ever want to say to a doctor, "How can I shrink it?" easily cracks my Top 3.
It seems to me that the inaugural prostate exam is the point in a man's life where he stops simply living and he starts trying to juke away from death like Barry Sanders on astroturf. Before that first prostate exam, words like 'rectal,' 'sphincter,' and 'poopchute' are gut-busting. But afterwards, they are horrifying reminders that death is already whispering sweet nothings into his ears. Needless to say, I'm not looking forward to prostate exam #1.
Nor am I looking forward to the possibility of taking Avodart and enduring its side effects. The most noticeable ones are sexual side effects(which I'm assuming is a new and profound attraction to other men) and tenderness or swelling of the breasts. That means that once I've asked my doctor "How can I shrink it?" I'll have to go back and ask him to shrink my jiggly man boobs. Great.
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