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My Evening with The Mary Kay Lady… And Steph.

Issue Date: Friday, Sept. 22, 2006

Ok. Let’s put aside the fact that I talk about my past a lot. A. LOT. And I get all mushy when certain songs come on the radio or I catch certain scents on the air like a deer testing and tasting the wind for signs of trouble… or a mate.

Um. What the hell was that? A deer. Riiiiight.


Yes, I did liken myself to a deer smelling danger, or sex. Can we move past that? Really, move along. Let it go.

I’ve gotten boring and quite predictable since I reached 30… And, to be honest it is kind of cool. I know that today when I leave the office I will race home to let out the badger before he befouls his linens. (My, how very Victorian of me.)

Sue, it is a dog. (Where’s the ROI?... Heh.)

Right. Right, so before the furry munchkin pees in his bed or has anymore discomfort from being left in his kennel (yes, we kennel train, let the hate emails pour in) for eight hours I race home. I make a stab at something edible for dinner and usually start a load of laundry then I look at the menu from Time Warner Cable to see if anything remotely promising is on tv then I either watch tv, do more laundry or read a book.

As opposed to say, six years ago when I knew I would be at a bar with about eight four beers in my belly and a whole half a pack of smokes in my lungs before 8 o’clock in the p.m., actually contemplating going out with someone who was trying to pick me up with this line, “You have the most beautiful face, you look just like that woman on tv. What is her name? Uhm… Camryn Manheim… And… AND… I used to play for the Mavericks. Wanna go out?”

Confidential to that guy, “Fuck you douche. Just because I am fat doesn’t mean you have to say I look like the only fat actress on tv.”

Let’s look shall we?

Camryn Manheim

Photo by Steve Granitz - © - Image courtesy of


The Photo that you are looking for has been deleted. Yeah. I deleted it. Remember... I bring out the crazy.

Photo by Suzanna Danna and her short ass arms. Also, picture to be removed at my whimsy. (See? I removed it at my whimsy, my whimsy happened to strike at 3:19 on 9/28/06.

Yes, yes… Camryn Manheim is very a pretty lady. But gah. When I was younger and because I have curly hair people used to say I looked like Andie MacDowell. Hello? I do not. And. AND. You did NOT play for the Mavericks, Roderick Hampton, and yes, again, I am going to use his real name. And yes… I did go out with him… Once.

What the hell was my point? Oh, yes, …Music. iPod. Herschel. Bonnie Raitt’s First Night Alone Without You. Dear Lord.

You know what? Forget that. I am not going to get all sentimental about some song. I just got off the phone with Stacey and I am feeling a bit ranty. (Can you tell that I had caffeine today? I’m all Grover-y “Heyyy YOU Guys!!!!! [arms flapping wildly]”) So we are going to go with the following:

My Evening with The Mary Kay Lady… And Steph.

Hi, ya’ll know I love make up… and jewelry and animals and … well, shoes. But make up? It is wonderful… and the products that go with make up… the lotions and serums and gels and balms… mmmm… balms. I get a little product crazy from time to time and I have been accused of being a lay down sale. This past weekend I had a good half hour conversation with a woman hosting a wonderful dinner about the best products in each price range.

So. So, a few weeks ago when I went out with the girls Kerry let it slip that, “Oh, and ya’ll? I signed you up for a pampering treatment with one of the ladies in my networking group.” And we all replied, “Yeah, ok, uh… sure.”

A few weeks (or maybe a few days) go by and I totally forget all about it, until (dum Dum DUM!) I get this long very high energy voicemail from this lady we will call JD. “Susan? Hi, it is JD. I got your number from Kerry and I wanted to call and schedule your pampering appointment. Just let me know what time is good for you and I’ll do the same and we’ll get together! Won’ it be fun!?” She went on for a while about…well, I don’t remember… but the point was, she called, she is Kerry’s friend/business associate so basically I was bound by law to call her back.

So, I did.

I called her back while I was on my way home from work. Her outgoing message was so excitable, like on the upswing if you are bipolar excitable, and at the end of the 75 second ramble it was all, “You can do anything you put your heart into…. GoooooooOOOOO Jesus! YAY!” Of course I am paraphrasing.

I’m all for a Jesus cheer now and again, so I left her my information and my number and hung up.

She called back while I was taking the dog out, fixing dinner, doing laundry, massaging your grandmother… something, so I didn’t hear the phone. When I checked the message it was another Declaration of Independence preamble of incredible length and I finally just pushed the delete button before she was through. Oh, sure… I felt bad about it. But Lord. Queen of short attention span over here. Snappy, people, snappy. Message = 1) name 2) phone number 3) maybe a reason… a SHORT reason why you called and 4) repeat of name & phone number.

No throwing stones in this glass house missy, I know I ramble on and on… paragraph after paragraph… but it is in written form. Therefore my logic is impenetrable.


Oh, yeah… GoooooooOOO! Jesus!

So JD and I finally reconnect after playing phone tag like four times and having to listen to her two minutes outgoing message each time. And NO pressing 1. That just restarts the damn thing. “HIII this is JD with Mary Kay, you can do anything… blah blah blah….. GOOOOOOOOOOOO JESUS!”

We decided on last night as the night of the pampering. Wednesday night, 7:30 p.m. Got it. I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that she was going to do a facial or something with Mary Kay products. I’m good with that. Mary Kay makes an amazing oil free eye make up remover that is never far from my person. I’m down with MK. So when I saw an email message from Steph saying that she would be there Wednesday night as well, I was all “rock on.”

Stacey was more in the “Hell to the no, I ain’t going” party but, BUT… Kerry was supposedly coming to the little pampering make over appointment with Steph and I.

I showed up at 7:15 as I am like that. Steph showed up at 7:20… JD showed up… well, late. She ushered us into this strip mall office thing and put on some music. She told us when she scheduled the meeting on the phone and in emails (2) to remind us; that we didn’t have to worry about eating because she would have snacks available for us. I thought that was pretty nice of her.

She asked us what we would like to drink while holding a plastic pitcher with tea bags in it. I asked for water, as I am a water drinking girl and Steph said, “Ooh, yeah, water sounds good to me too. I’ll have water as well.” JD scrunched up her face and said, “REALLY?!” Like we were the craziest (and most freckled) girls she has ever encountered.

I said, “Oh, um… then I guess I’ll take some of that tea.” Knowing full well that I don’t do caffeine and that I would be vibrating like a washer out of balance before 10 p.m.. Steph agreed and said, “Sure, tea sounds fine.” And JD trotted off, calling over her shoulder, “Great, it is cold brew. It will only take a few minutes.”

When she got back she took a bowl of salad, two small containers and a bag out of the fridge, she opened the salad bowl and the containers saying, “This one is the dressing and there are some croutons as well. Stephanie, why don’t you heat up these bread sticks in the microwave?” Steph obediently did as she was told.

(Picking up from yesterday as it is now Friday… GOOOOOOOOOO Friday! Ahem, sorry. Remind me to tell ya’ll about the most uncomfortable dermatology appointment ever. I just got back to the office and let’s just put it this way. It was so disturbing… that I wrote a letter.)

I picked up three plates and JD said, “Oh, I won’t be joining you.” So I put one of the plastic plates down and asked Steph if I could serve her. She said sure so I turned to look at the salad. JD piped up, “It’s from Olive Garden.” I love Olive Garden (shut up) salad. Really. I could live off of their salad and breadsticks alone. So when I looked in the bowl of salad and noticed that most of the lettuce was turning brown around the edges I wondered if she had this shipped in from Oregon or if the Olive Garden just around the corner was trying to save it’s bottom line with using week-old lettuce.

I served Steph and I and sat down as Steph was bringing the breadsticks out of the microwave.

JD perkily announced that, “We had Olive Garden Monday, so I thought I would just save that salad and breadsticks for you ladies and serve it tonight!”

I paused, fork halfway to my face, flicked my eyes to Steph who was all, “O…kay.”

Ya’ll, seriously. Poor little withered salad. I am sure that it was old enough to still have some EColi riddled spinach in it. Whatever, I ate a few bites (it didn’t hurt me the last time) and made all the appropriate, “mmmmm” noises. A’la Friends Thanksgiving show, “It tastes like feet.” Thanks for the visual, Ross.

So with the music in the background; “Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car” – Billy Ocean, “We Are Family” – Sister Sledge and the like… stuff to really get us pumped up to be part of the little MK family… JD asked us to follow her to the bathroom to do the Satin Hands and Satin Lips treatments.

With that done we came back into the training room and sat down at our little fold up mirrors and Styrofoam plates. There was a cotton ball. A. Cotton. Ball. On each of our little Styrofoam plates that would definitely come into play later. And JD gave Steph and I each a damp mauve washcloth.

She put a dollop of cleanser into each of our plates then instructed us on how to best remove our make up, “Just your faces, leave your eye make up on.” So Steph and I washed our pink little faces and then JD asked us to rinse with the washcloths. I picked mine up and that is when the smell hit me. Mildew. So there I am, soapy shit all over my sensitive skin and nothing but a mildewy washcloth to wash it off.

Yes, I used the washcloth. And no, I didn’t make any rude comments. I save that for you guys, because I love… and I like to give. I am a giver.

So there I was face first in a mildewy washcloth, peering at Steph over the edge of it. I have it sort of pinched in my fingers because, Hi. I don’t want my hands, that I know I am about to rub all over my porcelain skin, to smell like mildewy sneakers worn without socks. Eau de boys locker-room. Mmmmm sexxay!

But, I did it.

After the cleanser and the washcloth came the moisturizer and the … well, the other stuff… I was sort of distracted (MILDEW!) by the, “How long have you had rosacea?” comment. My reply? “Um, it’s not rosacea. I drank a lot in college.” So I don’t remember everything she put on our faces… but I DO remember that she said, “If we just had a product to SUCK OUT THE FAT….” like six times. I don’t have a problem with being large lady, do you? (::Ahem:: Also read as: Yes, I do, stop bringing it up.)

She gave us each a dollop of makeup to cover our faces with after the moisturizing MILDEW! cream. She put Steph and I in the same color. Steph. Red head, fabulous green eyes, beautiful skin… cute as a button with her freckles, but she can tan. And me. So white I am blue. With… uh, rosacea or something. Same color of makeup.

We both obligingly put it on then used our ONE cotton ball to put the pressed power (from a flap of paper) on our skin. We looked positively… well, the word cakey comes to mind. Then DJ used a brush and commented on my chipmunk cheeks. “To make ourselves look thinner we need to create shadows.” And she put some bronzer under my cheekbones. And gave Steph bright Barbie Doll Pink blush. Heh. Now, granted, Steph could wear blue eye shadow and red lipstick and pull it off. She is that gorgeous. But pink cheeks on a redhead. She worked it, but I would have given her more of an earthen tone, not something found only in post-it notes and Barbie Dream Houses™.

May I just tell ya’ll that Kerry never showed up and JD kept us in her tentacles loving embrace for two hours. And. AND? I had a migraine. Sitting in a fluorescent lighted room with a migraine and a chirpy Mary Kay saleslady for TWO HOURS.

Two hours.


Seriously. Two hours. I could have been watching Harry Potter and eating non-EColi wilted salad… also known as Dove Chocolate.

Stacey called me yesterday, which is when I got all ranty, because she was laughing her ass off at the retelling of my story from the night before. Laughing… and laughing HARD. She was all, “HA HA HA HA!! Oh, my God… HAAAAA! I am soooo sorry, but this is funny as shit. AH ha… HA HA HA!” And then she would laugh some more. I think her favorite parts were the salad, the mildew, Kerry not showing up and did I mention TWO Fucking Hours!?

Lord. Seriously. I would totally sell Mary Kay for a living if I needed a part time job to supplement my income or work really hard at it and have my husband retire in three years like JD has (that part? Rocks) but, come on. Two hours. Yes, Mary Kay has good product and they sell fine and well, free cars. But I still can not see taking two hours out of women’s busy lives and calling it a pampering session.

Up next? Mr. Scratchy Pants.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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