Sunday, August 16, 2009
The sorrow of addiction
This weekend I attended a Party Lite Candle show. Uh huh.
Let me start off by saying that until I became a stay at home mom, I’d never even heard of these at-home parties. As soon as I stopped working and began being mom full time, it was like I was initiated in to some secret club. I began receiving a flood of invites for various at-home product parties. Candles, jewelry, cooking stuff, scrapping stuff, sex toys...you name it, it can and probably is, sold in an at-home atmosphere. I’m not much of a party person, but I did attend a few here and there and was immediately struck at the efficiency of these parties. You almost don’t have a choice. You have to buy something or you feel guilty. Your nice friend has invited you to her house, which you know is not usually that clean, and fed you yummy food and let you drink her wine. How can you not buy something? That would be like kicking her in the teeth and then stealing her favorite shoes. You have to buy something. And in a way, I kind of like that. If I have to buy something, I can’t feel guilty about it. It’s not like I had a choice, now, is it? No. Absolutely not. How could my husband be upset? I had to buy the silver necklace with the chunky pendant. I had to buy the overpriced candle and wrought iron wall sconces. I’m helping out a friend. It’s like charity. And everyone knows that charity is a good thing. We have to sacrifice for a good cause. To date, I’ve donated my money to numerous friends and bought several charity items: a nifty little patchwork purse, countless candles and accessories, jewelry, jewelry and more jewelry, scrapbooking stuff (some cute little alphabet stamps and some pretty floral ones), lotions, a $30 garlic press (What? I have to cook, don’t I?), nail polish and make up, some more jewelry, a bowl, lingerie, sex toys...yes. That is the one type of party that my husband usually encourages me to attend.
“Are you sure you have enough money? Here,” he says, digging through his pockets. “Have some more.”
I’ll admit that they are rather fun. For some strange reason, I’m really good at the little games they play at those parties. I once won a penis shaped lipstick for making the best penis out of playdoh. That was really the pinnacle of my success. Then once I won some scratch off sex lotto tickets for some other game. At these parties I watch in amazement as the party consultant stands in front of the room holding a vibrator in one hand while talking nonchalantly about the walls of her vagina and her nipples and I find myself feeling a bit like Beavis or Butthead.
“Heh heh. Snicker. She said “vagina”. Heh heh. Nipple!”
But I’m mature like that.
Then there are the Uppercase Living parties! I love, love Uppercase Living. I’m addicted to the stuff. My mom liked it so much, she became a consultant, so now I have my own dealer.
“Mom,” I whisper, hoarse, into the phone. “I need some more. I can’t stop thinking about it. I need something now... the hallway, the wall, it’s too bare. You have to help.”
“Stay calm, breathe...in and out. There you go! I’ll bring a catalog right over.”
I buy Uppercase Living stuff and then when it comes, I realize that I don’t have any place to put it. Or that maybe I should have measured, you know, like everyone else was doing, before committing to the biggest piece. And you can custom make them! I made one that says “A house without books is like a room without windows.” But it’s too big to fit where I planned on it going. It’s still cool thought. At our wedding, part of the ceremony was excerpted from an Native American prayer and I had a line out of it made to put on our bedroom wall. “Now you will feel no rain”. That’s not going to work where I wanted it either. I have a closet of really neat pieces
that have yet to find homes. But it won’t stop me from buying more. Oh no...I’m not that easily deterred.
That's just a sample of a few that I currently have in my house. You should go here and look at all the fun stuff: www.uppercaseliving.com
But anyway, the point of this post. I went to a PartyLite Candle party this weekend. And I didn’t buy anything out of the catalog. Nothing. Now I feel like I need to call the host up and offer to wash her car or babysit in exchange for the delicious pecan pie and cookies she served. www.partylite.biz/caseyking
I should have just bought a stinkin’ candle.