flingThis one falls into both the “give me a fucking break” and “you can’t possibly be serious” categories, but WordPress doesn’t seem to have those listed as blogging tag options, so I filed it under “insultingly stupid marketing schemes.”

I realize that chocolate has always had a sexual allure to it. Montezuma believed it to be an aphrodisiac, and handing your woman a box of good chocolate will almost assuredly get you laid. But as a general rule, I get nauseous when a new product tries to market itself to me simply because I’m a woman—probably the ONLY thing I share in common with the likes of Paris Hilton, Margaret Thatcher and Joan Rivers (she’s still a woman, right?). I regrettably introduce to you the schmucks trying to do just that, Fling™ Chocolate.

According to their sexually loaded (and yet banal) innuendo, they “broke the rules” when they created this Twix wannabe—chocolate truffle atop a cookie, coated in chocolate—that they say looks as glamorous as the women it speaks to. Who exactly are these women it speaks to, and where can I run them over with a Hummer…twice? Each serving…no, wait, I forgot. It’s not called a serving, it’s called a “finger.” Each “finger” has 85 calories, half of those from fat. And oh, did I mention that they “shimmer”? Yeah, each of the 3 flavors (milk chocolate, dark chocolate and hazelnut) has a different color “shimmer” to it, which of course will make you want to “tear it open and sneak a quickie.”

Apparently, the marketing gurus there are under the impression that the fact that you have a vagina between your legs supposes that you don’t have a brain between your ears. Where exactly was I supposed to stick that finger of chocolatey goodness, anyway? Oh come on, that’s what they want you to giggle about, after all. If nothing else, at least you can rest easy knowing that the fingers are Kosher. It’s a given that this product is the brainchild of Californians, but I thought I’d mention it anyway, in case you’re living in Fargo and wondering why you can’t yet have a Fling™ or two while standing at the checkout line in your supermarket.