Tupperware party was a bit surreal. When I got there I was so hungry I could’ve eaten a tablecloth, so J supplied me with some stir-fried steak salad that was so spicy it made my entire mouth first, white agony, then, numb. I’m surprised my lips didn’t start bleeding again. It was tasty, though.
The Tupperware lady was everything you’d imagine a Tupperware saleslady to be. The Tupperware was everything you’d imagine Tupperware to be.
*Everything* was prefaced with "Tupper". It was bizarre. There was a strange device called a "Tupperhusband" that assisted in the opening of difficult jars. (I find hitting the jar lid with the back of a knife [my Grandma shared this trick with me 20 years ago] quite sufficient tho it drives Zaubi crazy). We played Tupperbingo and I won a Tuppershaker. And a Tupperchopper, which I gave away. And so on and so forth. But when the Tupperlady said "That’s a Tuppernaughty" (regarding bringing the wrong color Tupperproduct) I just started laughing aloud. I couldn’t help it.
I laughed again when she talked about having an attractive, color-coordinated pantry. Perhaps it was the mental image of my own pantry, transformed.
Man, there was more I wanted to detail about this highly entertaining experience but I have forgotten it already! Perhaps I have been Tupperbrainwashed. I very nearly purchased a Tupperricecooker. Moreover, by the end of the thing, you found yourself Tupperifying your sentences quite naturally.
In fairness though, some of the stuff did look like it could be very useful. It was just the funny idea of it all that tickled my flippant part. Maybe because it faintly reminded me of my first Krispy Kreme experience, oh so long ago…
I’m hungry again. This midnight snacking habit needs to end or I am going to break the 16-year 57 kilo trend.
Think I shall head to bed. I’m Tupperexhausted.