Steve Beauregard Column June 18, 2009

The ShamWow guy’s love guide

You can imagine my disappointment to read where the ShamWow guy got arrested for allegedly assaulting a prostitute.

His real name is Vince and he’s the smooth-talking infomercial pitchman for the popular yellow towel/rag/soaker-up thingy. My daughter, Marilee, and I are very familiar with Vince’s late-night TV work. She’s 5 months old and has to eat every 3 minutes, otherwise she’ll die.

At least, that’s what her ear-piercing shrieks seem to indicate.

What this means is that we’re always on the couch together in the wee hours, scrambling for things to watch during the extensive downtime between the 3:34 a.m. feeding and the 3:37 a.m. feeding.

(In case you’re wondering, I’m the parent who always has to get up and feed her, seeing as how her mom is always passed out drunk.)

So anyway, Marilee and I are constantly on the lookout for quality, family-friendly late-night programming — something like an old movie that’s at least mildly entertaining and not full of scenes showing people taking gunshot wounds to vital organs. As you can imagine, there’s not much on TV that early in the morning.

CNBC has live coverage of the European financial markets, but my baby girl has yet to take an interest in German equity derivatives. However, should the head option trader for Credit Suisse-Berlin start singing “The Muffin Man,” that could change quickly.

Showtime and Cinemax are always showing a movie at that time, but unfortunately it’s always something like, “Frisky Sorority Girls Part IV,” which, (and call me prude), you really can’t watch with your baby daughter.

So we channel surf and surf and usually settle on an infomercial. She really enjoys them, often showing her approval by spitting regurgitated formula up on me.

This brings us back to Vince and his legal troubles. You wouldn’t think a celebrity of his stature would need to pay for female companionship. I naturally assumed there were an army of ShamWow groupies, but apparently the ShamWow is better at picking up spilled pop than it is women.

According to Miami police, Vince hired a South Beach prostitute to go back to his room with him. The price was $1,000, which he was able to pay for in just three, easy monthly installments.

Actually, the official police report says that Vince and the woman were in a nightclub when she propositioned him. I believe her exact words were: “If you act now, we’ll include this stainless steel peeling knife absolutely free.”

Fast forward a few hours, when, (as hard as it is to believe), this storybook romance went bad. According to the police report, the prostitute bit Vince’s tongue, causing it to bleed. In response, he hit her, then fled to the hotel lobby, where he had hotel staff call the police to arrest her. (And I get embarrassed when I have to tell the front desk I lost my room key.)

Officers were called and arrests made. I’m no expert in romance, but you know it’s a bad first date when the evening concludes with you having to pose for a booking photo. Police filed charges against both parties, but they were eventually dropped, and the case was closed, leaving a curious nation with many questions still unanswered. Questions such as:

When cleaning up blood from a bitten tongue, how absorbent is the ShamWow versus the leading brand?

Did the prostitute offer a 30-day, unconditional, money-back guarantee?

Can Vince still do commercials with a swollen tongue? And if so, will they have to change the name of the product to “Thammmm Walllllll.”

Who knows? And who cares? I don’t. Baby is back in the crib and I’ve got better, more productive things to do.

“Frisky Sorority Girls Part IV” is on.

E-mail Steve Beauregard at .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).


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