sometimes I sling super sponges

I have a dilemma

by Jen the Megalomaniac on July 4, 2006

You see, it’s 11 days into the County Fair. The Alameda County Fair. And what a riot it’s been!! I can’t tell you. Attendance is down. No one’s buying anything. I want to blame the gas prices, but according to Patrick, “the fair can only be down twenty percent due to the economy.” Now that’s some flawless logic.

The other day the power in my building was out for two and a half hours because the mechanical bull blew up. “We take cash, check, or…um. Just cash or check.”

Didn’t sell any for those few hours.

But in general, it’s been great. I’ve learned to mix up my sponge demo a bit. Instead of sticking to “the Super Sponge acts more like a vacuum…”, I’m starting off with “Super Sponge saves the day!!” Way more exciting.

Oh, and my favorite hook line: “Three minutes of free entertainment. And I’m funny!! At least that’s what my mom says.”

Which is especially funny to me because my mom never said that, and she’s at the booth next door selling silk blankets. She can hear every word.

Yes, we’re really mixing it up at the County Fair–all thanks to the presence of my sister, who is rather reluctant to recite the sponge demo precisely the way I might suggest she should.

I’ve begun insinuating that many Americans–just like you!–move their furniture around to hide the stains in their carpet. I think it hits home.

But, anyway, my dilemma…

For the last few nights, I’ve been so exhausted, I haven’t been able to successfully drinka beer. As a result, I have a couple half or third empty beer bottles hiding under the bathroom sink. Dare I drink one?

Tonight I was cleaning my carpet,

by Jen the Megalomaniac on March 21, 2006

and by cleaning, I mean rinsing out all the Diet Coke from this last weekend spent slinging sponges. I couldn’t find the Woolite, even though I recognize its amazing effect–my carpet just sparkles with clean!

So tonight I was rinsing my carpet, and I came to understand that not only does the Super Sponge really suck, but, no matter how badly one doesn’t want to take it, good advice is both always warranted and relevant.

More to come on my one year anniversary as a sponge sales woman.

I deeply and completely love and accept myself

by Jen the Megalomaniac on February 7, 2006

About an hour ago, I was a high strung rats’ nest of nerves. I saw my mother earlier today while in a similar condition, and she took the opportunity to impress on me once again a system she and my father and probably others call EFT. It involves saying “Even though [insert issue or deep seated resentment], I deeply and completely love and accept myself” over and over again while banging on different pressure points. They remind me that the sequence of pressure points forms a question mark–a handy, and, for me, personally relevant mnemonic.

I have a lot to deal with this week. (On Thursday I abandon my newly acquired practically full time job to sell sponges for nine days at a Home and Garden Show in Denver, Colorado.) And, I’ve been hearing about this miraculous technique for so long. Seriously. I’d confide about my relationship pains and all they’d pay me was a sidelong glance and, “If only you tried EFT.” Or I’d relate to them how so and so is stuck in rehab, and they’d remark on how much more effective rehab would be if it were to incorporate EFT.

So I incorporated EFT. I’d been harboring this deep resentment for myself every since I lost one of my favorite–and only!–pair of silver hoop earrings (they were the perfect weight!) while making out at the bar with total strangers!! Why oh why must I make out in bars and lose earrings?! I asked myself over and over again. After all, this wasn’t the first time such an incident has occurred. So I tried it, “Even though I lost one of my favorite silver hoop earrings while making out at a bar with strangers, I deeply and completely love and accept myself.” Over and over again as I banged against those pressure points.

And it worked!! Then I had a number of other issues to work on, and now I’m awfully sore. But that’s okay. It just gives me more to work on. “Even though I beat myself up letting go of my issues using the miraculous EFT technique, I still love and accept myself.”

It’s the easiest way to let go of addictions: Replace them with new, healthier ones.

in a rare bout of personal accomplishment,

by Jen the Megalomaniac on January 15, 2006

I cleaned two toilets today. Bowls and all.

I’ve always been afraid of toilets. For as long as I can remember, if I flush one at night, I run in terror back to bed. I just know my soul’s in danger.

It’s really only been in the recent years that I’ve been petrified of all things associated with toilets: germs… fecel matter… skin cells… urine… toilet water… even that little silver flusher. Er, especially that little silver fusher. It’s gotten pretty out of hand. But I did develop a useful skill: I can pee standing up. It’s indispensible in some public restrooms, and a good upper thigh workout.

Today I looked my mysophobia–my scatophobia–my molysomophobia–my panthophobia– all of ‘em–straight in the eye, and I said, “Mysophobia! Scatophobia! Molysomophobia! Pan-whatever-phobia! You’ve been ruling my life for too long.”

And I donned my cleaning clothes, gloves, Super Sponges, doused the bathrooms in bleach and went at ‘em. And boy are they shiny.

Then I showered and put the clothes I was wearing in a plastic bag. They’ll go out with the trash this Thursday.

Just kidding.

A call to duty

by Jen the Megalomaniac on November 17, 2005

Yesterday I got the message.

Today I got the call.

I’d been waiting for this call, wondering about it. The available Spring home shows. My assignment. My duty.

“…nine days selling the Silk Blanket. Not a very good show though…no expenses*…a few weekend shows in your area…we’re putting the Sponge into those…”

Now, I love the Silk Blanket. It’s like sleeping on a cloud! Warm in the winter, cool in the summer. But it has stiff competition in the Pacific Northwest–another blanket booth. Another silk blanket booth. We discuss it and decide it might be better to put in the Sponge instead. I’m better than that girl they had doing it last year, so even though the show’s not so great, the money should be better. Of course the Super Chamois will be there. (Parts 2 , 3.) It always is.

Now, truth be told, I’ve missed the Super Sponge. Even the blue ones. The twelve hour work day**, strange life-out-of-a-suitcase-urban-camping experience. They’re so absorbant, and I’m so prepared. I have an electronic tea kettle for brewing at the booth and a cooler for my kombucha. I have batteries for my very own microphone and Ginkgo Royal Jelly energy pills.

Rejoicing in the prospect of delivering my sponge demo ad infinitum for at least a few days next year, I rehearsed it along my way to work–straight to work but jabbering like a loony. “Try a hot one on your face, it feels incredible!*” It was a good practice as I was damn rusty. But not nearly as bad as the other day when I tried my LL Cool J rap in the shower. That shit was pathetic.

Yes, 2006 Spring Home Fairs, I’ll be there. I need a vacuum, and there’s always the lure of the Euro Steam. It turns out my current boss is a brunette with a blonde streak or two.***

*total lie
**dramatization

Little Guy

by Jen the Megalomaniac on August 15, 2005

I drive a 1990 Ford Ranger. He’s a good truck, however tempermental. He has a good engine, though he really doesn’t like to go over 20 miles per hour for the first twenty minutes he’s driving, especially in cooler weather. He also doesn’t like it when we call him “Little Guy”, which unfortunately is his name.

The other day he got his front left wheel stuck on a train track. A busy train track. Surrounded by rocks. The trains using this train track have been waking me up for days now–at all hours of the night. It is now four a.m., and I am confident that I, my roommate, and my vehicle, are in danger of annihilation.

I assure you, this situation has nothing to do with me, the driver. And everything to do with Little Guy’s negative attitude. He thought he’d get to see the ocean from his spot in the Ventura County Fair parking lot, and unfortunately this didn’t turn out to be the case.

Regardless, here I am, without a room in Ventura, and my truck is stuck on the train tracks. I may or may not be partially drunk. The tires are spinning, I can smell the rubber in the cab. I am definitely nearly hysterical. The truck won’t move, and we empirically ascertain that a truck just too heavy to lift.

Finally I insist on calling the police. My roommate insists on leaving. It turns out, for whatever reason, that she’s on probation. Not that I would hold that against anyone. I might, however, hold it against her that she lost the key to the motel room that we paid for in cash. She must have lost it in the motel parking lot, for only that could explain how the people who were in our room had gotten in there. It was her birthday though, and I incurred my portion of the two hundred dollar loss in respect for her continual existence.

A long story short, miracles happen, and Little Guy, however scarred, is freed from the train tracks. No one died, however perilous the evening. And the five hour stay in a motel that night only cost me a mere hundred and sixty dollars.

As young as I might be, I will never trust anyone else with travel arrangements. That is my lesson. That and train tracks are actually quite tall. Who knew?

Tonight a fellow says to me, “You look like a train ran you over.” I found the irony hilarious, though he was merely referring to my obvious exhaustion.

by Jen the Megalomaniac on August 3, 2005

“Feel the Super Sponge.” This is my feeble attempt to pitch to this older gentleman walking by.

He stops. He feels the Super Sponge. “Smooth as a baby’s bottom.” He looked at me expectantly.

For once in my life, I didn’t know what to say. No sale.

the Guru

by Jen the Megalomaniac on July 30, 2005

I met the Guru of Sponge Sales the other day. My mentor was the Queen; I studied under the best around.

Our chance encounter left me breathless–after only one demo. If only I could had been born one of his nine children. Only after a lifetime of watching his demos, only then will I have learned my lessons well.

But, then again, he really wasn’t that good. I didn’t buy any sponges.

sometimes

by Jen the Megalomaniac on July 30, 2005

I get lost in the boundaries between different aspects of my life.

Or rather, its that the boundaries are so thick, I can’t differentiate one aspect from another. So one slips away while the one present at hand dominates.

I don’t think I’m alone. Heidegger might call each aspect a “mode of being”, and the modes of my being are often mutually exclusive.

That’s one way to explain it. It doesn’t necessarily solve the problem. If I can’t see the bill paying hat when I’m in sponge selling land, I’m left with a buttload of late fees and a lack of an overarching plan.

This Mary Kay lady is stalking me.

by Jen the Megalomaniac on July 29, 2005

I’m terrified. I never answer my phone anymore. Last time we talked, I admitted to her that I didn’t know whether or not my skin was oily or dry. I think she thought that was cute.

We met when I was selling sponges. Given my sponge demo, she said, Mary Kay would be a snap! A snap, I said! Well, then…

I thought I’d meet with her just for kicks. I know that I’ll never use any skin care products that aren’t organic, or at least chemical-free. And I know that I’m trying to avoid pyramid schemes. Mary Kay lady, I don’t think this is going to work out. But let’s give it a try anyway. You give me a facial. I make fun of you in my blog. It’ll work itself out.

When I threw my back out just before our scheduled rendez vous, I knew it was fate. God hates Mary Kay! Or maybe Aristotle does. Either way, it was time to call in sick.

Riiiiinnng. Riiiiinnng. Riiiiinnng. Riiiiiiiiiiiiinnng. Click.

“Hi, I’m so EXCITED you called! This is Marsha with Mary Kay Cosmetics. I’m so EXCITED to announce that Mary Kay will be giving away a five thousand dollar shopping spree. I’m so EXCITED to tell you how this could be yours! Please leave your name and number, and I’ll get right back to you!”

It’s not funny anymore. She keeps calling to reschedule. I’d call her back, but I fear listening to this answering machine message again. My alternative upbringing has left an indelible fear of subliminal messages.

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sometimes I sling super sponges

I have a dilemma

Tonight I was cleaning my carpet,

I deeply and completely love and accept myself

in a rare bout of personal accomplishment,

A call to duty

Little Guy

the Guru

sometimes

This Mary Kay lady is stalking me.

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