You can tell by this video that our world is still rocking....
When it was all said and done, we replaced "getting drunk" with "getting crazy with the lactose intolerance." McDonalds on our wedding night and Dairy Queen twenty-one years later.
Come to think of it, I should have titled this post Foodies in Love.....
So you've been wondering what new business I'm going into? Well, I'm combining the things I'm good at with something I love and capitalizing on an existing infrastructure. Okay, so that didn't really tell you anything, did it?
So here's the skinny: I am now a BeautiControl Consultant (in training). It's kind of like being a Counselor in Training at summer camp, but without the tipped over canoes and mosquito bites.
People who know me well are chuckling right now because they know that I hate direct sales things. I won't name the different types of schemes here (most often aimed at women, dontcha know), but I've been known to whine loudly and long when invited to "parties" for those unnamed direct sales companies.
I've been to direct sales parties for cookware, interior decor, candles, and jewelry. Sadly, I've never been to a party for sex toys, but I understand that those are some of your more entertaining events. And not at all embarrassing.
Now, the idea of a direct sales item that is for me and not something I can cook with or hang on the wall? (And no, I don't mean vibrators.) That's something I can thoroughly dig.
Well, a chick can change her mind and so I did. I contacted my friend Dora about her career with BeautiControl and she shared with me how it's been working for her. And you know what they say - timing is everything. I've been trying to figure out how to unyoke myself from the 8:30 - 4:30 grind I'm in now. Big changes are coming to my current position (read: the office is moving 2 hours away) and I'm not ready to uproot the family like I thought I might be. The reality of that is different than it was a year ago when I took this job.
Now I could telecommute, but my boss, for reasons of his own, is digging in hard and insists I either relocate my family or make the commute at least four days per week. When I raised the issue with him, he was quick to remind me that I knew the office was relocating when I took this job a year ago. If there can be no compromise on this, then I have to do what's right for my family.
So back to that timing thing. Enter BeautiControl. I love skin care, relaxation (although my life is sorely lacking in it), make up, beauty products and spa-related activities. The idea behind BeautiControl is to hold spas in your home, with some friends. I'm cool with that. And if I can make a living with it, so much the better.
I've tested the products because I'm not going to sell things I don't believe in or don't use. The products compare with the expensive items I splurge on at the department store. And they cost a bit less! They are also endorsed by the Pussies for Peace because BeautiControl does not test on animals.
And, hey, fellas, don't think you're being left out. We have a men's line, too. I know, I see you right now, Kitten Toes. You're swooning over that news, aren't you?
This is a time in my life where I am making some radical changes while trying to maintain the ship of state at home. I'm going to have to hang in there and make that brutal commute for a while. Talk about needing some spa time after that! But now that I've set my mind to finding a way to write my book and work for myself, I'm ready to make this thing work.
I've combined my goofball video skills with some fabulous products so that you can see for yourself what it is I'm selling. There, I said it. I am selling. That didn't hurt like I thought it would.
You can learn more about the products we offer and place orders at my webpage. You're also invited to my official lift off party at 6:45 p.m. (eastern) on Tuesday, August 11th. If you can't make it, we're going to see what we can do to include you because you all deserve the gift of relaxation and beauty (she said, trying not to giggle).
This one might be continued. Didn't want it to go too long.
It's full of camera goofs, random conversation, me nagging Doug, inappropriate language, a short song that we don't really know the lyrics to, and the two of us not being the 100% Midwestern nice we typically are. Plus there's a new theme song and tag line. I'm finally figuring this out, too.
To be continued? Well, we still haven't done this with sock puppets. I swear, they're coming.
P.S. I have a fat lot of nerve mocking someone else for their neck.
We are taking requests (or attempting to), the following is in response to Steve's insistence that we vlog dipped cones from Dairy Queen. And since Steve isn't really an insist kind of guy, we thought this must be important to him.
Thanks to others who have provided ideas. We're trying to figure out how to work in British accents, hats, the often-threatened (or is it promised?) sock puppets and finger operas. We've been rehearsing our finger opera song, Suzy, never fear!
A couple of administrative things. First - this one has some adult content. Not pictures, but language, so be prepared for that as you consider who might hear this. And second, regarding the audio - we're still working that out on the cheap. This was filmed using Doug's camera, which makes a better video, but distorts the audio, making us sound like we're doing lisps and lateral lisps. Please note that we are not really doing this - it's the equipment. Now, some might find it amusing, others might find it uncomfortable. I'm not sure what the politically correct thing is here, so I'll just offer an apology in advance if anyone is offended. Because a pre-emptive apology is so convincing, isn't it?
Anyway, here it is, we're eating again and talking about things of an adult nature. I fear we've already typecast ourselves.....
I've managed some music on the opening credits this time, but forgot closing music. Baby steps.......
I swear, I cannot believe I'm showing you this. First of all, it's ridiculous. And self-indulgent. And goofy as hell. I hate seeing myself on video and hearing my voice. I'm still heavier than I want to be. And for heaven's sake, do I have to look that much like my mother? I used to watch her mouth when she spoke and wonder why she did that thing with her lips, etc. I guess this is my due for being so silently critical of my mother back then. And finally, when did I get Dawn French's neck and chins and do you suppose she'd like them back now?
When we did this experiment, I had no idea how disconcerting watching myself would be. It goes back to that question of would you like to be married to yourself, I think. (We actually ended up having a discussion centering around that theme in another video chat that won't get published, but it ended up being a really good discussion). I mean, now that I've seen some of my mannerisms, my tone, the eyerolls, fidgets and tics on a longer format video, I'm painfully aware of how I might look and sound to others. I find myself wanting to be quiet and trying to sit more still after watching this.
The fact that MathMan can barely be seen will have to be remedied if we do any more of these. And if we do more of these, they won't be scripted, but perhaps we'll have some idea of what we're going to talk about. Oh, and the camera will be on something stable. Duct tape will be involved. Perhaps to put over my mouth so that MathMan can get a word in..........(My suggestion that I chew a piece of gum to use as an adhesiveto hold the camera in place was met with MathMan's scorn. In retrospect, I must agree. That would have been wrong. And gross.)
The sound quality is just like being there. The Corolla isn't terribly soundproof. Oh, and you even get an opening song. It is the first time we've been recorded singing. I'm sure, upon viewing, you'll understand why.
MathMan and I made it through our first co-commute yesterday without a single puppet show. Thanks to those who provided future programming suggestions. What great ideas! However, I want you to consider carefully before encouraging me to vlog. Aren't I insufferable enough using the written word?
So this is how our afternoon commute went as we made the short drive from my office to our marriage counselor's office. Oh the irony.
First, I started out examining my face in the mirror behind the car's window visor. Why is it that I always see stray hairs that must be plucked only when I'm in the car and have no tweezers?
Next up, MathMan made a left turn and didn't stay in his lane. I chided him briefly but then I got distracted by the German bakery on Atlanta Road. My stomach growled.
I asked "How about if we stop there and buy some German pastries and then we stop at Douceur de France and buy some eclair?. We can do a World War II re-enactment and my mouth can be the Ardennes." (history nerd humor + food humor - Epic FAIL).
MathMan responded with alacrity, "That would give new meaning to the Battle of the Bulge."
I laughed because I actually got that joke and then looked down at my tummy and sucked it in really tightly, trying to meld it with my spine. More FAIL.
As usual, I was not happy about having to go to see our therapist. I don't see why we need to go talk to some guy about our marriage. And hey! he doesn't even have fab eyebrows. When MathMan picked me up at the office I moaned, kvetched and then whined a little. He was unmoved. I decided to take the direct approach - petulance and threats.
"I'm not going to talk. I just going to sit there with my arms crossed and glare at a spot on the wall. YOU can do all the talking," I huffed, then flounced away, shuffled some papers, clicked my mouse and watched MathMan from under my eyelashes as I pretended to concentrate on my computer screen.
Still nothing. His calm demeanor can be so annoying.
So there we sat about forty-five minutes later and my resolve was gone. I was participating, making a go of it, taking an enthusiastic part in the conversation about our relationship with each other and with The Spawn.
Thankfully, our therapist isn't one to expect us to actually read the book, although I'm sure he thinks it might be a good idea. Nor is he one who thrives on the dramatic. He just cut right to the chase.
"The question is pretty simple," he began. MathMan and I waited quietly, patiently. I don't know what MathMan was thinking, but I know what I was thinking. There's just one question?
"The question is What would it be like to be married to you?"
I gasped first, then let out a very unladylike guffaw. MathMan seemed to ponder this quietly. Gathering my wits about me, I sucked in my breath and watched him. When he looked at me, I gestured that I would choke me with my bare hands. He just blinked at me as if to say "As if I haven't considered that a million times and dismissed it because I don't want to go to jail because of you."
We left the office with our next appointment scheduled and some thinking to do. What would it be like to be married to me?
On Friday night, after the tornado sirens stopped going off and we emerged from our basement like peevish moles, we waved a fond farewell to the lemon Kia. Thank goodness on the one hand. That car was so temperamental and expensive to maintain. On the other hand, we're now tethered together each morning and afternoon and, although we enjoy each other's company immensely, we're about to experience togetherness like we haven't in many, many years.
Gone will be the time to switch gears between work and home at the end of the day. I won't be able to burn through cell phone minutes passing the boring drive by gabbing away with friends. I won't be able to shout "Hey, Brassy!" at MathMan's friend's horse each day on my way to and from work when I pass his paddock.
I'll leave it to MathMan to tell you what he won't be able to do now that I'll be riding snuggled up against him during the hour long commute. I'm sure it would involve listening to sports talk radio in peace - not having a person sitting next to him snorting with derision and lolling her head against the passenger side window, begging him to please, for the love god, please change the channel. How about the weather and traffic? I'm thinking all this togetherness might make for the occasional blog post, but I don't want to jinx the idea by thinking it now. If I expect something curious or interesting or even funny to happen so that I can write about it, we'll just end up discussing hideously mundane things like what we'll make for dinner, who's responsible for delivering the bedtime beatings to The Spawn and whether or not we'll have time to practice that new square dance we're trying to perfect. I do have a back up plan, though. I've been contemplating writing the occasional post providing driving tips for the clueless. You see, here in Georgia, there wasn't a mandated formal driver's education program until a couple of years ago. The lack of such formal education shows. A lot. Now, native Georgians might get a little miffed at being singled out, so my driving tips will not be framed in such a way as to make the locals feel bad. Goodness knows, there are bad drivers every where.
If it comes to that, I think my first post will be something like "Go on, inch out into the intersection already! You've got people behind you who know how to make a left turn, dammit!" or maybe "Turning into your own lane - why the road engineers may have overestimated your intelligence..." For now, though, I'm just planning to enjoy the ride. If MathMan is driving, I will (1) Regale him with stories of my childhood, if I can think of any he hasn't heard; (2) Remove my shoes and socks and perform sock puppet versions of our favorite The Young Ones episodes; (3) Try not to snore too much; (4) Beg him to stop at every Dairy Queen on the way and buy me a Dilly Bar; (5) Explain, in excruciating detail, what I had for lunch, to whom I spoke on the phone during the day, what itches and what doesn't, which work project pained me more and whose blog post made me laugh the hardest when I was supposed to be working.
None of these things are too far fetched. You can thank me later for leaving off number 6 which involves a feather, some Barry White Music, a small container of Crisco Oil, a video camera and that book of extraordinary positions we keep tucked away in the top dresser drawer.
However, if I'm the driver, I will just keep my eyes on the road and bark out orders to the other drivers who are either too oblivious or stupid to know that they are doing it wrong.
Hopefully this morning's inaugural co-commute isn't an omen for things to come. The rain poured down, the wind sheers battered the compact car, the traffic jammed up and then just inched along until right before our exit.
To pass the time, MathMan and I sang rounds of old favorites and shared the banana without nuts bread I baked yesterday.
Old MacDonald will be coming around the mountain.......
