Being that my hearing is going bad at the ripe old age of 28, I heard "take your balls to the next level!"
I paid rather closer attention to the commercial than it deserved after that...
I wonder if I'll persist in this bizarrely Freudian state of hearing for the next few decades, or if I'll just be deaf as a post and require a hearing aid by forty.
This doesn't bother me as much as it might, because it's a gadget, and James loves gadgets, which means he'll probably be modding my hearing aid and giving it an optional corkscrew, magnifying glass and bandsaw attachment, or perhaps snazzy neon running lights. It'll look as if the Borg ran out of the chiselled post-adolescents and were forced to send in the second tier of pudgy middle-aged women. You'll know us by our sensible haircuts and black gadget-covered Birkenstocks, and our insistence that the rest of the cube put on sunscreen if they're going down to the planet, for god's sake, they're so pale, they'll burn like that and would anyone like to assimilate these leftovers?
I am still not entirely sanguine about death, but I suspect I'll be pretty good at middle age.