Once upon a time, I was a home party maniac.
Mary Kaye ‘ 1 party
Creative Memories (which is for scrapbooking, in case you’re wondering) ‘ 1 party
Tupperware- 4 parties.
Tastefully simple (‘gourmet’ food and mixes) ‘ 1 party
Pampered Chef- the mother of all parties.
And for each and every one of these parties I threw, I had attended a previous party where I got roped into throwing a party. Then I felt obligated to attend the parties of those who booked parties off of my party. I’m surprised that I have any friends left whatsoever after conniving them into attending each high-pressure party. It must be the bribes I regularly dole out. Or maybe that’s why most of my friends are men’ I wouldn’t tempt them into having a ‘stuff’ party.
It’s a cult. A cult of ‘she who dies with the most crap wins’ mentality.
And notice that with the exception of the scrapbook party and the Mary Kay party (which I only agreed to because my friend, Mary Kaye became a Mary Kay lady and needed to book so many parties to get started.), each one of the scams can be directly linked to food. That’s how they get you. Go straight to our oral fixations and they’ve got us giving our friends guilt-complexes.
In addition to those parties I’ve thrown, I’ve also attended several Wicker parties, Candle-Lite parties (which suck), a lingerie party (which was dreadful and non-sexy beyond words. In fact, I didn’t want to even think about having sex for a month after that party.), several Home Interiors parties, a crystal party and several others I’ve undoubtedly repressed.
Nothing strikes fear in my heart faster than an invitation to a Home Interiors party. I honestly can never find a thing I’d want in my garage, let alone my home. Browsing through the catalog is like revisiting the homes of so many church ladies from my childhood, with the dusty and foul-smelling sun-faded plastic roses and the bizarre ivy trailing along the tops of fake oil paintings. Really, I’m not sure what look is desired there. Are we to believe that plant matter has spontaneously grown out of their walls and they then stuck a picture under it? Each one of my husband’s friend’s homes has exactly the same pictures, the same artificial flower montages’. It’s eerie and somehow confusing. I’m always frightened that I may dose off while there and awake unsure in which home I was. I lean more toward stark aesthetics. My living room contains mainly black and white pictures of naked trees and one is a bow of a boat. My upper lip unconsciously pulls into a sneer when I see pictures of an 1890’s mother in a garden brushing the ebony curled locks of her little white-dress wearing daughter. I wonder if in the future people will get reminiscient of our time. I’m almost certain that there will be a Pod Interiors hostess hawking pictures of a father in a crisp white undershirt, standing outside the family trailer, shooting cans off the neighbor’s garage with his kool-aid lipped but immaculately dressed son. Or daughter, because maybe we’ll be over that whole sexist thing by then.
And what do I have to show for my many parties? Strangely, not much Tupperware, as Esteban will not wash something that has attained sentient status while nestled in the far reaches of our refrigerator, thus any dubiously green leftovers get tossed, container and all. I’m now sticking with those plastic Glad containers. Bad for the environment but good for our marriage. I actually have amassed at least one thing on every page of the Pampered Chef catalog. I have an entire drawer devoted to my weird gadgets. Esteban calls that ‘the weird drawer’. Such a way with words, that man. But I love my gadgets, even the dumb ones.
From the scrapbooking, I obtained two scrapbooks that have not been opened. However, I have an excuse here, because I’m currently filling a different book and I generally don’t do the scrapbook thing when it’s warm outside. And the food from the ‘Tastefully Simple’ party is long gone.
After several crazed marathon cleaning sessions, Esteban declared that if I wanted those products, I should just PURCHASE them rather than cleaning for two days and spending $75 on food and beverages to earn $33 in free products and hostess gifts. Smart guy, that Esteban. I had never actually thought about it in those terms. It would be one thing if those parties were actually that’ PARTIES, but they are nothing but a big product demonstration full of stress and free-floating estrogen.
What they should do is have a party with fun products. Like pastel bazooka guns to take out those bitchy women in the office. Or products which will allow you to screw around at work, like a cubicle rearview mirror. Why are there no ‘computer products’ parties. God, could you imagine those sales people? Some nerdy guy with a pocket protector, talking about how their keyboards are Leet and will make you look cool.
I have no solid close to this entry, so let’s just say BAH and be done with it, shall we?
Bah!
