I was at Walgreens the other day and noticed a fancy display for a product they carry called "Squeem." Now, if you didn't know what "Squeem" was, based on its name, what would you think it was? I'd wager something like:
--A cute Halloween-based stuffed animal, you know, when something's scary so you'd scream but it's cute so you also go "squee!" Like a cute baby ghost
--Some sort of for-kids moisturizer. "Cream" isn't very fun but "Squeem" is!
--Some sort of disgusting medical topical ointment.
No, it's none of these things. What "Squeem" is is "magical lingerie":
I'm not mocking "magical lingerie" at all, to be clear. I own more than one pair of Spanx and I'm not ashamed to say it. But let's just take a moment here: what's so "magical" about what really amounts to an old-fashioned girdle? But that's really secondary to how much I can't get over the name "Squeem," which seems so unconnected to the product I wonder if the people who named it even had an idea what they were working with. "Squeem" also sounds like "squeeze", like you have to squeeze yourself into your clothes, or "squeamish," as in that's how you feel about your own body, or "squirm," as if that's what your lovers will do when they find out you're wearing a big black girdle. People like it when girdles have sassy names like "Spanx" or "Invisibellas" or glamorous names like "OnGossamer" or "Le Mystere." Not something that sounds like the noise a fat worm would make when you step on it.
However, my biggest problem is that the Squeem people missed the best possible tagline: "Look so good you'll Squeem!"
UPDATE: As a joke, I was going to buy a Squeem and wear it and report on how it felt. Then I checked out how much a Squeem is: $72.99! And the boy version is $89.99! Squeem's name might be a joke but its price sure isn't. Do you know how many pieces of Walgreens candy you can ironically buy for that much money?