So here’s how it went down. I went over to a friend’s house, and she is a ‘Minimalist’. She has no crap. No piles sitting anywhere. No doors that are closed, blocking off rooms that should not be seen. Nothing. She also doesn’t believe in ‘consuming’, because its not green to consume vast quantities of say, kitchen gadgets, whose production puts toxins into the environment and enslaves small children in China. And she says the packaging alone is an environmental travesty. But I digress – I got home and immediately called Queen B. and told her to come over, I need therapy because I just discovered that I’ve destroyed a rainforest by being a total consumerism-whore.
QB: Oh Honey let me make you feel better about yourself. Everybody does this, we all have shit we shouldn’t have bought.
Let me tell you about the shower head. As a result of drinking a margarita the size of a fish bowl, I got totally plowed and your sister Nelly had to drive me home – she had to stop at Walmart, so while we were there I bought a banana cream pie and a massaging shower head. Your Dad installed it while I was sleeping off the margarita, and the next morning my hungover self decided to take a shower. It turns out it was a power pulse shower head, and it started beating me in the head. I fought it off the best I could, using the giant bottle of conditioner as a shield, but I didn’t have my glasses on and couldn’t see the dial. I ended up crying in the corner of the shower and your father had to rescue me.
HB: Well apparently its hereditary. I bought a juicer and $80 worth of organic vegetables. I came home and took it out of the box, turned the vegetables into an $80 glass of green slime that looked like science fiction leaking out of the bottom of the juicer, and tasted like a cigarette butt. I added a pound of fresh fruit and 4 pounds of non-organic white sugar, the result was so repulsive that I boxed up the leaking piece of shit juicer up and dropped it into the trash. Unfortunately the story didn’t end there, I poured the congealed green slime down the drain and clogged the kitchen plumbing. The plumber was not prepared when he unclogged it, it let loose and the kitchen looked like a scene from the Exorcist.
QB: There was the time I bought the waffle iron because it was on sale, and who doesn’t love waffles. I was so excited about it, I made a giant bowl of waffle batter. The first waffle cooks up like a dream, golden and delicious. I tell your Dad that I am a waffle genius and this is what we’re having for dinner for the next month. Waffle #2 was fabulous, and waffle #3 to die for. Unfortunately, somewhere between waffles # 11 and 12, I forget to spray the waffle iron with Pam. Waffle #13 (not a lucky waffle) gets stuck to the waffle iron and ripped in half, some on the top and some on the bottom. I immediately take a butter knife and start hacking away like a prospector, which extricates some of the waffle from the top but takes a large portion of the non-stick lining as well. In the meantime the bottom part of the waffle has started to smoke, and the smoke detector alerted your father who came into the kitchen to fan the smoke detector with a paper plate, and started screaming at me to unplug the damn waffle iron. The last straw was the spark that flew out of the side where apparently a tiny amount of wet waffle batter makes the whole thing unusable. I marched out onto the deck with the smoking sparking piece of shit and threw it in the yard. I hate waffles.
HB: Yoga clothing. I think we’ve said enough about that already.
QB: There was the Ab Shaker. I was using it in front of the bathroom mirror to watch my biceps develop before my eyes, but the momentum got away from me and I smashed the bathroom mirror. I think that counts as two – one for the Ab Shaker which went directly to the trash, and the other for the mirror which took a half hour to sweep up and $30 to replace.
HB: I bought that electric staple gun for my upholstery project. I plugged it in and realized it had some sort of trigger malfunction and went off like a machine gun. Thankfully the damage was minimal, the ceiling had a few holes and I always hated those mini blinds anyway.
QB: And lets not forget the time that I went to Macy’s when I decided I was going ‘sporty’, and bought $300 worth of Columbia cargo pants and Merrells sandals with 83 straps on each foot. Do you think a woman that weighs over 200lbs can be sporty?
HB: Oh Mom. Only if you’re a competitive eater or sumo wrestler. But in the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit that I’ve been getting Shape magazine for two years. It was from one of those door-to-door salespeople who tell you that you buying a subscription is the only thing standing between them and a life of crime. Since getting Shape magazine, I have gained 40lbs and my exercise consists mostly of my monthly sprint to the mailbox to get the magazine and hide it from Marmot and the cleaning lady.
QB: Every time we go to the As-Is department at Ikea, we buy shit that we not only don’t need, but is already broken – or will be by the time we smash it into the back of the car or drag it across the cement driveway and up the steps into the house. We might as well walk it straight through the house and out the back into the dumpster, or better yet just pitch it out the window into the ditch on the way home.
HB: Thanks Mom, I no longer feel like a consumerism whore, I’m just the daughter of one.
QB: No problem. Want to go shopping?