if my tear ducts were broken and I wasn’t able to cry so easily whenever I feel so damn sorry for myself?!!!
I’m petrified
of my first Tupperware party.
On Saturday I attended a party throwing seminar. We discussed recipes and dating techniques. I had been under the impression that I had dating techniques. (Despite all recent evidence to the contrary.)
I’ve been a bona fide Tupperware consultant since August and I’ve avoided consulting a single party. Now, given that I’m like the only active Tupperware Consultant in the Oakland Berkeley area, one might argue that this is a disservice to my local community. I think that’s a good view. I’ll adopt it. That way I can file Tupperware under Philanthropy.
Anyway, I didn’t even want to have a party but some woman found me on the internet and first emailed and then called! Now, who calls a Tupperware Consultant because they’re so eager to have a Tupperware Party?!! (Ok, so I totally did this when planning Jenfest 06. That’s not the point.)
The point is that this lady did, and this Saturday I’m popping my party hymen. From Saturday on, I shall spread throughout the world the joy I have found in Tupperware!! I shall sell SELL SELL!!
I have a list of people to call for datings. I promised my Director I’d have a party lined up by Saturday. Are you on that list? I can write off any trip I take so long as it overlaps with a Tupperware Party, so don’t think you’re so safe, oh friends in other states.
Hee. It’s funny that “Tupperware Party” has the same initials as toilet paper.
My sister thinks I should give out Shit Be Gone toilet paper as party favors. I think that’s just because we have a lot of that though.
My Director plays this game called “Party”. Clever, huh? She fills a small Fridge Keeper with little tiny Tupperwares (keychains and smidgets). Inside each tiny Tupperware is a piece of paper. If you pick one that says “Tupperware Party” you win a Tupperware Party! “Wouldn’t that be fun?” she says. You could win a “10% off one product”–that’s the real reason to play. She says about 50% of the papers say “Tupperware Party.” Such a sneaky way to get people to commit to hosting a party. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Ethics, you know.
I think that in my teeny Tupperware in my 6 cup Heat n Serve (my small Fridgekeeper holds my salad mix), I shall abbreviate “Tupperware Party” to “TP.” Then they can choose between Shit be Gone and a party with me. Of course should anyone pick the toilet paper, I’ll say “So you’d rather wipe your ass then hang out with me again?!”
Yes, that will be a good game. I’m sure it will help me avoid all Tupperware Parties in the future.
Now, let this be a solemn vow: As a Tupperware Consultant, I swear I will not make those mocha brownies out of that Vanilla Spice packet, cake mix and water and mayonnaise and instant coffee and whatever. That’s disgusting. I have ideals, yo.
The problem is, I don’t know what I will make. Salsa, maybe?
And what will I say? How will I greet them at the door?!
“Hello! Nice to see you. My name is Susie, and I will be your Tupperware Consultant this afternoon. I’m soooo excited!! Oooh, and my father calls Tupperware Tuppyware! How cute is that? It’s in my blood. I’ve found so much freedom in my Tupperware career. What do you do?”
Yes, I’m ever so witty. And I love Tupperware. It’s bound to be a successful party. And career.
I blew my top today
Did you know I have a temper?
Yes, I do. Good natured ol’ me.
Especially when it comes to grammar.
I don’t want to hear how it’s one choice whether to capitalize one’s name. This isn’t a God granted, American right. The First Amendment in no way guarantees the right to abandon a country’s lifetime of good, concise communication.
A person is a proper noun. Proper nouns are Capitalized.
I never EVER want to see another advertisement for any sort of help my non profit bullshit seminar that dares not to capitalize the keynote speaker’s name. I don’t care how much prettier that keynote speaker might think his or her name looks in all lowercase.
Thank you.
2007
I’m just not interesting.
I made a banana bread. I took a walk a couple times. My lustful fantasies necessarily include a dome wireless network.
I picked up my shoes from my neighborhood cobbler. I say “good morning”, “good afternoon”, and “good evening” to people I meet on the street more oftenthan in 2006.
My biggest accomplishment of 2007 is without a doubt finally managing to prioritize my money-making schemes above Genghis Kunt’s insatiable needs. For a couple weeks anyway.
Ooooh my sister is learning to be an optimist! I’m excited for that.
my second Jewish funeral today
and hopefully the last funeral of a close family member that I never knew that I will ever attend. Probably I will get this wish, unless family I never knew about starts coming out of the woodwork. And dying. Now that would be scary.
My favorite part of the Jewish funeral tradition: Getting to help to bury the dead! With shovels, dirt, and all.
My least favorite part of the Jewish funeral tradition: Not being Jewish. As I am not technically a Jew (though I am of Jewish heritage), I don’t get one of these black ribbon things to tear at the end of the funeral and pin to myself for seven days to symbolize my mourning. Which is appropriate given that I hardly knew both of my father’s parents, but also inconvenient given that one of the most appealing aspects of having a death in one’s life is getting to milk the sympathy from the utters of everyone you know for as long as society deems appropriate. Which I still plan on doing.
My least favorite part of death: The concept of burying one’s dead in a casket which is enclosed in another casket of concrete. The casket of concrete serves to keep decaying bodies from contaminating drinking water. But how is anyone going to rejoin the universe that gave them life if they remain for eternity decaying enclosed in concrete?!!
My favorite part of the family trip to the funeral: my father’s joke that I shall have my ashes kept in Tupperware. Apparently he wasn’t a fan of my blog back in 2005 when I wrote my living will.
Susie J’s Life Lessons
1. In order to do a cursory toilet cleaning, one must clean not only the inside of the bowl and the toilet seat, but also the top that only boys see.
2. Both baking soda and salt are essential for the baking process. Next time I have some time to kill, I’ll figure out exactly why. Then I’ll make little chemical models of the baking soda, baking powder and salt molecules and act out the different scenarios. It’ll be fun.
3. I like to get drunk and practice my sponge demo on unwitting party guests. Poor Gabe’s seen it fifteen times. Julia and I used to go to co-op parties and call everyone by their first and last names. It was our party trick. Now I give the sponge demo, and Julia rolls her eyes. Oooh, how times have changed.
4. People are amazing. So unfailingly surprising and brilliant and funny. I always assume everything will just keep trucking along, but it doesn’t. Sometimes you don’t get to see someone anymore, hear their voice, their laughter. For whatever reason. And I just hear “I know it’s over – still I cling, I don’t know where else I can go” over and over and over again.
5. My TV doesn’t work.
last night,
after I vetoed my decision to stay home and went out anyway, sick though that I was of all the cookies I had eaten. (Never use baking powder when the recipe calls for baking soda.)
I asked my sister, “Alex, do I look like I peaked in college?”
She made me change my coat and scarf before leaving the house.
dear jarvis,
whenever I don’t want to go out,
cause I’m not feeling well or attractive or whatever,
i remember your inquiry
into what motivates love.
is it fate?
is it chance?
and i remember especially,
that if you would have stayed at home
and gone to bed,
life would have been very different.
but nothing will change tonight, yo.
cause I ate too many cookies.
and I’m staying home.
the question is
do I really have the audacity to go with fanmail at jenniferheller.com as my primary email?! For strangers?!
