Way back in the D-A-Y, before there was Wifi, reality TV, or me, there was the sweetest Avon commercial on TV. It went something like this:
I’m super nostalgic for the 1950’s, even though I was born A LOT of years later, like at least 40. OK, more like 20. Anyway, I would live in Pleasantville if it existed. So, I have thought of a way to bring back the 1950’s Avon lady, but modernize her a bit by changing her product line just a little. Anyone know where I’m going with this? Wait for it. Mary Jane lady parties.
Instead of the Avon lady showing up with lipstick samples and perfume pouches, the Mary Jane lady would arrive with all of your marijuana needs, medical or otherwise. And just like with Avon, Mary Kay (I never realized how close to Mary Jane that is), Tupperware, Pampered Chef, and MANY others, you could host your own Mary Jane party. That’s right! You could invite your friends over to sample and purchase fine Mary Jane products.
Your personal Mary Jane lady would provide glossy catalogs with a variety of products. She could even borrow a Pampered Chef technique and make pot brownies for you and your guests, giving everyone samples and a recipe card. She could also whip up some green butter and some canned dinner rolls for a non-sweet treat. Your friends may be so relaxed that they can’t get up from your couch. Then you could get out your Avon stuff and make clown faces on them. Think of the fun you could have!
And let’s not forget about that host or hostess gift. For every $100 in sales, you could earn a free bong, pipe, or other product of your choice.
I’m not really a pot person, and it’s not legal in my state. So, if anyone out there starts Mary Jane parties, I will expect a check each month totally 40% of your sales. I mean, you will be doing ALL of the work, but it IS my fabulous idea. It’s a better offer than you would get from any of the sharks on Shark Tank.
Disclaimer: Mary Jane ladies do not need to be ladies. We are an equal opportunity employer. Gentlemen are welcome to apply.
I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post again. I’m still recovering from last weekend when people at THREE different parties surrounded me and talked. I had to struggle to listen because, A. I have the hearing of an 80 year-old (no offense to the elderly folks out there with good hearing), and B. I am an introvert and I am busy inventing things in my head like laser printing apps for the iPhone (I don’t know how to make this a reality; it’s just something I thought of). By recovering, I’m not referring to anything alcohol related. I’m talking about reenergizing from talking to actual humans. As I may have told you, we introverts lose energy from social interaction. Still, I enjoyed getting my holiday cheer on, and I have the pictures to prove it. Here are the parties, in chronological order.
Thursday — The Husband’s Work Party
This party was at Park Cantina, a place I had not been to before. It’s a Mexican place, and I like Mexican food. So, I packed my gluten and dairy digestive enzymes, and I was ready to party. The world was not going to cooperate with this, though. First, it was raining, and we had to drive on the highway through rush hour traffic. It was scary, and it took forever. I haven’t blogged about this yet, but I had a horrific accident on the highway, in the rain, during rush hour, when I was 6 months pregnant with my son. Highway driving in general makes be nervous, and we had the trifecta on our way to the party. My husband was driving, so I closed my eyes and did some deep breathing. I’m sure he loved this.
Needless to say, by the time we got there, and walked two blocks in the cold rain from the parking garage to the restaurant, I needed a drink. Since my husband’s company gave us handy bracelets with three drink marks on them, I stepped up to the bar and asked if it was “only beer or wine or could I have a real drink.” I actually said that. The bartender said I could have whatever I wanted. I ordered a top shelf Cosmo. I ended up having two. I should’ve had one. My tolerance is low, and there was not much food. Don’t worry. This will not turn into a puke story. You can keep reading.
So, like I said, it was a Mexican place, so I was thinking burritos, quesadillas, you know, the usual. Instead, there was lots of raw veggies, some sliders, and some chicken on a stick. Oh, yeah, and a platter of cubed cheese, but I didn’t have any cheese because the woman in line in front of me brought a cube of cheese up to her nose, sniffed it, and THEN PUT IT BACK ON THE PLATTER. WTH, Cheese-sniffing Woman?
Saturday — The Ugly Sweater party
Every year, my friend and her husband throw an ugly sweater party. My husband and I just love this family, and we go to everything they invite us to, if we can. Last year, when I was in the boot cast, I still went to the Ugly Sweater party. While it was fun, and the food was yummy, like most parties, it was one of those people overload situations for me. So, we left early. Apparently, there was an ugly sweater competition at this party, but I was too geriatric to stay that late to see it. This year, we ended up talking to some of the same people we chatted with last year. They all seemed like a lot of fun, even though I know for sure I said a few inappropriate things that made people’s faces twitch. I do that a lot. When you don’t get out much, you tend to lose that ability to know if you are truly saying something out loud because you rarely say anything out loud. It’s like you develop a case of Sheldon Cooperism.
Sunday — The Wine Party
One of my husband’s friends is a wine collector. So, we had no idea what to bring to the party that he and his wife were hosting. We couldn’t bring wine, like we normally do. So, we stopped at Earth Fare, and picked up some brie, crackers, and cupcakes. We were the first ones to arrive. As Chris got our brie and crackers on to plates, I stood around trying not to get in the way because I’m useful like that. Then, when the couple’s cat jumped up to sit on a bench near the dining room table, I figured I had better sit near him as he sort of eyeballed the food. Finally, I felt useful. That was my way of helping — keeping the food safe from feline invasion. Also, as you may know if you have ever read this blog, I like to hang out with cats. Orange, the host cat, is an older gentleman, but new to the household. He used to live outside, but our friends recently adopted him. He’s got a good life now, complete with tuxedo collar. I’m not sure if you can see this in the picture.
I loved getting out and wearing sweaters. Oh, and of course, I really loved visiting with Orange, even if Andre was pissed when I got home. Still, I’m looking forward to not having plans this weekend. I may be ready for people again in a month or so.
I went to a party last Saturday night. No, this is not the beginning of a Lita Ford song. I actually went to a party on Saturday night. It was a lovely birthday party for a woman who is as nice as she is beautiful and smart. You know; one of those people you can’t even hate for being gorgeous. Anyway, the food was great, the drinks were interesting, and the people were nice. Well, MOST of the people were nice. Yes, I’m talking about you cat hater woman.
I really liked cat hater woman at first, before I knew of her feline issues, even though she “demanded” a show when she found out I used to do stand-up. I hate when people do that. I QUIT doing comedy seven years ago. Demand all you want. It ain’t happening. Once, she accepted that, she was great to talk to. She has two teenagers, and I have one. So, we had that in common. I didn’t quite catch her name because it was noisy and I have the hearing of an eighty year-old. I thought it was a feminine version of a popular male name, but my husband informed me that it’s actually the name of a liquor that rhymes with that. Either way, it’s a stripper name, but I wasn’t thinking that yet. I still liked her.
I didn’t even say anything when she stood there, in a somewhat thin, linen, halter jump suit (think Miami disco club circa 1977) and complained of being cold. I was thinking, “Do you not have the Weather Channel, or local channels, or a door, or windows that you could consult before getting dressed?” But, believe it or not, I held back. Kept my mouth zipped. We were having a great talk about kids and their horrible boyfriends and girlfriends. We were mom bonding.
I don’t know how the subject of cats came up. We were probably talking about my new Black Lab/Great Dane 50-pound puppy when I professed my love for cats. Knowing my irritation with the moose dog, this is probably how it happened. She replied with, “I hate cats.”
This always throws me when people say this, but I’m used to it. Most people I have met love dogs. A lot folks have this false belief that cats are not friendly. I WISH my three cats were a little less friendly. This belief is why so many cats are in shelters, and are euthanized. Though I have heard many people talk about not liking cats, I had never really asked someone WHY the hatred. So, I asked liquor name stripper girl, “Why?”
I was expecting a real answer about a horrific childhood experience about how she lost a beloved pet hamster to the hungry jaws of an alley cat. I got, “I don’t know. I just really hate them. I would run one over if I could.”
I had to hold my breath not to physically reach out and either grab her by the top of her halter jumpsuit or choke her, or both. There were so many things I wanted to say to her, like:
Are you aware that the host and hostess of this party have two cats that they love dearly?
Did you know that if I ever became a millionaire one of the first things I would do is build a GIANT indoor cat sanctuary and save as many cats as I could for the rest of my life?
RUN ONE OVER??? What the hell is wrong with you?
How can you hate an entire species? Are you one of those idiots who think all Muslims are going to blow up a building?
You have a stripper’s name.
Put on a sweater if you are cold. Your shoulders aren’t all that.
RUN ONE OVER??? Do you know who you are talking to?
I didn’t say any of that. I said nothing. I channeled the Dalai Lama somehow. It wasn’t my party and I wasn’t going to ruin it. I think she picked up on the fact that we disagreed on creating feline road kill and she excused herself because her husband was flirting with some young “short skirts.” I wonder why.