How did I get here?

So last night I found myself [and Roommate] as a Mary Kay meeting.

I know.

See, I used to sell Tupperware. And once a week, I had to attend these types of meetings. Periodically, victi---ahem, potential consultants are invited to attend these meetings, to be shown the fun and profitability of such a venture. I knew this. But I walked into it anyway.

Yes, the operative word is sucker. However did you guess?

But the big sales boss had fun picking colors of makeup for me. Other people had a great time. So my skin was irritated. Big deal! My skin is bitchier than roomful of healthcare workers on a full-moon Friday with a broken coffee pot and no chocolate anywhere. Yes, bitchier that that, I say. With authority.

But Roommate and I looked fabulous when we walked across the street to the Irishmen and I had a drink. Quickly. I think Karen, the midwest-transplant Mary Kay lady who invited me to this superduper event, would like me to have a party. Or pass out catalogues. Or sign up to be a consultant. Let me tell you my response to these hopes.

No. That's right. I defied the Hungarian Speech Impediment and said NO.

I will not be a consultant. I did that with Tupperware and did fairly well, but that's because I love Tupperware. I still have four--okay, five cupboards filled with Tupperware. Yes, I use it. And yes, I can still tell you what the benefits are for each piece.


Quit judging me.

I just don't have that feeling for makeup. And I am not taking on anything else right now. No!

I'm not going to pass out catalogues and gather orders. See above.

And I'm not going to have a party. I'd end up making snacks and drinks and dragging over my poor beleaguered friends and forcing them to stay for dinner, which I would handily have ready in the oven. And then there'd be wine and chatter and maybe a movie. And popcorn. And we'd probably stay up really late, talking talking talking.

Okay, maybe.

Quit judging me.