This Mary Kay lady is stalking me.

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.

Questions? Comment? Cigars? Cigarettes?

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