I have always had a thing for infomercials. If I see one, I'm very likely to keep walking past the television. This isn't because I hate infomercials. No, it is quite the opposite. I have to keep walking past the telly because it will take only 4.8 seconds before I'm unable to talk or avert my eyes from the spinning web of mesmerization.
I don't know why, but I am utterly fascinated and totally taken in by their lies. I know that they are lying to me, but they do so with pizazz, poor graphics, and a promise to send me extra stuff if I call in the next 10 minutes.
Thankfully, I have never purchased anything; the Unavoidable Infomercial Pull is for my attention only and not my debit card.Why the draw? I'm not entirely sure. I'm normally a cynical, negative/realistic (depending on your view), 'don't believe anything until I've tried it myself 'kind of girl.
But secretly...deep in the dark chasms of my soul....I want to believe that a machine will make dinner for me. I wonder 'what if' when I'm told that honey and linen cloths will rid my legs of hair. I am rooting for the small black box that you wear under your shirt that melts away body fat. And the cooking utensils....the juicers....the compilation c.d.s!
It seems that Moira has this curse as well. When I spilled something on my mother's rug, she promptly told me to get some Oxi Clean. When I looked at her quizzically, she informed me that the enthusiastic man on television had explained it all to her; his product got EVERYTHING OUT! She went on to say that blood, rust, red wine, and other common stains would be lifted. Almost verbatim of the scary, overloud commercial that offends the ears and all other senses. But she couldn't help but watch.
She's a sucker, just like me.
I used to drink Tazo bottled drinks waaaay before Starbucks raped their soul and bought them out. My flavor of choice was Bramble Berry, and the reason I liked the complicated, earthy blend was not just because of its crimson hue. No, I liked it because in the ingredient list, alongside sugar and tea, it listed 'the mumbled chantings of a certified tea shaman'.
I didn't know there were uncertified tea shamans! Actually, I had never heard of a beverage specific shaman.
I liked to drink my Bramble Berry while walking the quad of my SUPER CONSERVATIVE christian SCHOOL. For some reason, it made me feel better...as if I had a secret, a talisman against the cheesy strange world that was closing in on me.
And I did! My talisman came in the form of fluffed up, prettied and painted tea.
When I was trying to 'dig in' and 'get involved', I went to an after-school Bible study. Yes, I'm telling the truth. No, it wasn't a good one.
The boy that 'led' the thing talked to me about my bottled beverage choices. They weren't, apparently, What Jesus Would Do. Tea shamans? That kooky stuff was for pagans. I was sanctified and forgiven, and unless I could get my Southern Baptist Bible teacher to pray over it...chances were that the tea would send me straight into the firey pits. Why, I might even be possessed by the spirit of some creepy tea picker.
I started hiding my Bramble Berry, hoping that he wouldn't see. I could almost hear those mumbled chantings as I tipped the glass bottle to my lips. Ahh, the smell of faraway places. I even had a mental picture of the shaman. He felt like a friend, or at least someone who was familiar and constant. (Friends may come and go, but shamans are forever...catchy, yes?)
One day the 'leader' called me out on the proverbial carpet. Bramble Berry must go, or I must leave the life-altering Bible study.
Um.....Tazo for one, please!
Thus began my slow yet sure decent into being an ignored person on campus.
All because I liked the fluff and stuff. I liked the glitz, the intrigue, and the mumbled chantings. I'm a sucker for anything that makes the ordinary seem more shiny.
Shopping for toilet paper? Boring.
Shopping for toilet paper that comes with a free blue glitter eyeshadow sample? Wowza!
You can imagine what an ordeal it is for me to go to the grocery store or mall or even gas station.
There is always something calling to me, telling me that it will make my life easier, cleaner, or at least prayed over by someone styling himself a tea shaman.
I know it isn't true. I'm the absolute dead center of the target for marketers. They should bring me in to those PR meetings and try stuff out on me.
Because I am a sucker.
I would try to cure it, but why?
The tea shaman says it is totally normal.
And I would take his advice over the Oxi Clean man any day.