So my JournalCon swag idea.
I told you all about how I had decided against the temporary tattoos and the little yoyos with decoupage Weetabix paraphernalia on them? Because that was too hard or sketchy on whether or not people would actually want them? So I came up with a new idea:
Play Doh.
Yes. Play Doh. I decided to get little tubs of Play Doh and stick my URL on them. Because who doesn’t like Play Doh? Communists, maybe. Play Doh rocks. You can mold it. You can squeeze it and make lovely little shell shapes. You can smell it and be automatically five years old again. You can eat it if you’re really desperate. I’m rather pleased with myself, actually. Undoubtedly, the Galleria hotel will be less pleased with me when they are picking little multi-colored nubs of Play Doh out of their carpets, but that’s not my problem.
I investigated online. It appeared as though you could get a ten pack of miniature tubs of The Doh for $4.99. I’m thinking that I would need 7 packs or so, but I didn’t want to wait for shipping. So I called our local Toys’R’Expensive and inquired about their Play Doh selection. After much consternation, the Toy ‘Tard on the other side of the phone determined that they did indeed have the Itty Bitty Dohs for $5.99 a pack. “Do you have price matching? I saw it online for $4.99” I asked. “Yeah, but you’d have to pay for shipping.” Mofo Toy Tard. Then I called MallWart. To his credit, the MallWart Tard quickly was able to survey that they did indeed have a 10 pack of very very small Doh for $3.97 and a 12 pack of medium size Doh for $4.84. That’s another thing I hate about MallWart. They try to get psychological with the pricing of things. As though stupid people have figured out that $3.99 is really $4, but $3.97… why, that’s just $3 and change! Gah.
So I went to MallWart directly from work. I hate MallWart. I hate it with a passion. I hate their parking lots, the way that people drive willy nilly, rampantly ignoring the painted lines. I hate how people seem to lose their minds in that place, as though the proximity to Low Low Prices makes them crazy, CRAZY! I hate how all the children in the place seem to have perpetual Kool-Aid mustaches. I hate how they squish the aisles with displays and you can’t maneuver because some Nascar-wearing tool is standing there scratching his head over some Sam’s Choice vaginal lubricant. I just hate it. It takes about six months or so to forget how much I hate it and stupidly try to shop there again. I just don’t know how some people are able to shop there on a regular basis.
I went directly to the toy aisle, avoiding some child who was, I kid you not, running around Health and Beauty Aids barefoot in only a diaper. There I found that the MallWart Tard had confused the two packs. There were 12 itty bitty Dohs in a pack and 10 slightly larger mini Dohs for $4.84. Then I noticed the full size Play Dohs were $1.50 for four. I could get twelve full size tubs for $4.50. It would be easier to turn into Weetaswag and it was just that more generous. Sure, it would be way heavier and far more bulky but it was a FULL LEGITIMATE CAN OF PLAY DOH! How much would I rock out JournalCon? So very much. I would be That Fat Play Doh Girl, only I’d work that nickname. I’d make it sing. People would see me and say “Hey! Play Doh Girl with the Chubby Tink on it! Lay some Doh on me, baby!” and I’d happily oblige. Oh, it’s going to be grand. Just grand!
Of course, the other side of this is that I’ll be schlepping this heavy sack of Play Doh tubs around, begging people “Here! Take some Play Doh” because that shit will be so heavy. And I’ll start to sweat. And no one wants their Doh pre-moistened. Because that is just ick.
So I quickly did the math… 4 tubs of Doh per pack… probably a pound or more… I’ll need about 18 packs. I started loading 4-packs into my cart until I had every full-size tub of PlayDoh in MallWart. 14 packs. That was it. I raped MallWart of all their PlayDoh. I felt so dirty. I could almost hear the wails of little white trash children “Mama! Whar’s all da Play Doh, Mama? Why did dat fat girl take all dah Play Doh, Mama? What we going to eat for da supper now, Mama? I was gonna make Daddy a Play Doh gun and bring it to him in prison.”
Did you hear that sound? That was the sound of Satan clearing out the Evil Bitch suite in Hell for me.
So yesterday was my first day of the “Late Hours” that come with my new position. I’m all West Coast hours now. It’s strange. It’s like I’m in college again, waking up whenever I feel like it, not having the rush to get ready in the morning. Tilly scampered over the bed this morning with frantic MEOWs because I suspect that she’s worried that I’m going to be late for work. Apparently, she didn’t read the memo.
As I was leaving for work yesterday, I got a phone call from my friend Mary Kaye. Her girlfriend Angel has asked for her hand in marriage and MK has accepted her proposal. MK called to ask if I’d be her Matron of Honor. I’ve accepted but now that I’m thinking about it, I have all these issues. First of all, wedding gear tends to look like absolute ass and I don’t have a body which lends itself nicely to satin ruffles and ass bows, although knowing Mary Kaye, the wedding attire will be all glam. Also I don’t think I like that title. Matron of Honor. It sounds so… matronly. As though I should have Librarian hair and crows feet and steel belted girdles locked in a death grip to a rather intimidating pair of support hose. I must suggest a new title.
Perhaps Mistress of Hotness.
Thankfully, the wedding will not be for at least a year so I have time to marinate on that. As always, feel free to use the comments section to make suggestions.
Have an uber weekend!
