As a young lass many moons ago, hygiene and hand washing were not huge priorities for me. Add to it that there was this one girl (who shall remain nameless), who contracted and spread Strep Throat every single year of Elementary School — she was like the class pet Petri dish. But anyway, I suffered innumerable sick days during my youth.

Whenever I was home from school, my mom would put a five-channel TV next to my bed, and feed me crackers and warmed-up Ginger Ale, as if I were Bacchus, and she were a eunuch ... or as if she were a Mama Eagle, and I were a bald, blind eaglet. (God, being home sick ruled!)

Because my parents never thought to remove said boob tube from my bedside, I spent many an insomnia-ridden night watching the campiest infomercials, just because I could. Those products, those gimmicks and those pitchmen — they were as much a part of my childhood as not washing my hands and contracting weird whooping coughs. But this article is not about my poor hygiene, nor is it about the high probability of contracting Strep Throat from Ol’ Petri Dishette, nor is it about my childhood insomnia. Nor, is it, really, about the event of watching infomercials. No, this long preamble was designed only to take up space. 

Last column, we met television’s merry band of hellions: Miss Cleo, Billy Mays and Anthony Sullivan. This week, meet television’s merry band of hellish infomercials: We’ll learn about the Magic Bullet, OxiClean and that one (infamous) collapsible ladder from QVC. These three products comprise some of the most recognizable products from late-night infomercials this side of the International Date Line. We’ll put these products to the test*, and then ask the question: “DOES IT WORK?” 

The Magic Bullet: How many times have you looked at an avocado and thought, “Oh gee whiz, I’d sure love some guacamole, but it’s just so much work, dicing and slicing!”? I sure haven’t, because I’m not a lazy sack of bones, but obviously there is a market for lazy people, or else the Magic Bullet would not exist. 

In fact, the Magic Bullet helps lazy people in more ways than one: chopping is not its only utility. The Magic Bullet’s infomercial highlights its versatility by making icy mixed drinks in addition to mixing up some soup. In case you want to have Margarita Monday solo (as Spanish-speakers say), yet want to be discrete about your lonely weekly habit, the Magic Bullet shall act as the proverbial Mama (Dina) Lohan to Lindsay Lohan’s addictive tendencies: the perfect enabler. 

So, does the Magic Bullet work? Is Lindsay Lohan drunk? Yes and yes.

Lazy and drunk people of the world, unite! 

OxiClean: How many times have you looked at your laundry and thought, “Oh sheesh, I’d love if all of my clothes — not just my whites — were so bright an on-looker would need sunglasses?”

According to the OxiClean website, the powder is “Powered by the Air You Breathe, Activated by the Water You Drink.” This proprietary mix of oxygen crystals and other inorganic materials is supposed to bleach one’s clothes a blazing-bright white. For you nerds, Wikipedia states that the chemical composition is “sodium percarbonate (Na2CO3*H2O2), an adduct of sodium carbonate (Na2CO3) and hydrogen peroxide (H2O2).” Though I have no idea what an “adduct” is, Wikipedia also tells me that OxiClean was “designed by doctors,” so that’s good enough of a “guarantee” for me to assure adequate bleaching. 

So, does it work? As an avid user of OxiClean myself, I can say it works moderately well, but like most infomercial products, OxiClean does not fully live up to what it touts. However, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reporter, Jackie Loohauis, had some hugely disappointing results with OxiClean’s “Spray-a-way” when “the mystery stain on [her] cotton-lycra blend shorts,” probably comprised of “either butter or burger juice,” was not erased after fifteen minutes of OxiClean’s fizzing (August 4, 2007). Aw, shucks. 

Well, Ms. Loohauis, no diss because I love man-made materials as much as the next lady, but maybe the everlasting meat-stain is the Universe’s way of telling us all to stop wearing poly-blends in public.

Telescopic ladder from QVC: How many times have you looked at a big wall and thought, “Uh-oh, Spaghetti-Os! Looks like my conventional ladder isn’t going to scale this monstrosity! I wish I had a collapsible ladder that is light enough to carry with me wherever and whenever I’d need it!” Well, you’d be able to scale that wall if you bought QVC’s Telesteps. But if you were an avid Internet Video-watcher, you’d know that using the Telesteps was a major fail for one QVC demonstrator named Chris, since he lost balance and fell off of the ladder on live TV. But is the concept itself shoddy? 

Let’s read a moderately glowing review of the Little Giant American Titan Multipurpose Ladder Type 1, Telesteps’s huskier cousin: “I was very excited to get this and try it out right away. Changed some light bulbs, did some painting, but I notice when ladder is extended the rungs are very narrow. If you have big feet like me, it’s very uncomfortable to find a spot where you’re [sic] feet feel secure and don’t hurt. Be prepared. On the whole it’s an excellent ladder, very well made, very diversified. I really like it otherwise. Rungs are a little narrow though, [sic] it's a great buy. Thanks!”

So, does the ladder work? I honestly couldn’t even guess what this reviewer means by “very diversified,” but I think he meant something along the lines of, “if you’ve got elf-feet, scale away, my friend, scale away.”

There you have it: The good (OxyClean), the bad (dangerous collapsible ladder) and the ugly (only aesthetically-speaking; the Magic Bullet seems great otherwise). Three products that helped make more entertaining our American Consumerist landscape.

*PSYCH! — I will pretend to put them “to the test,” when really I will simply read online testimonials and relate personal stories for effect. “Po-tay-to, Po-tah-toe,” as it were.