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Jewish World Review Feb. 15, 2007 / 26 Shevat, 5767 Phoning for dazzlers By Celia Rivenbark
Call it nostalgia, call it an unfortunate mix of prescription cough syrup and Red Bull, call it whatever you want, but I recently had an irrational desire to uh, dazzle up, "an array of sweaters, hats, dresses, slacks, even school book covers!" with these little multicolored beads and brads and jewels. This would be fun for the whole family! I knew it would because the nice lady on TV said so. And how could you not trust a woman with her name stud-set in artificial gemstones across her bosom? I imagined what I could put across my own bosom. Perhaps "Yeah, they're real," on my 34 A's. I love irony in fake topaz, don't y'all? So I called the toll-free number to order the very reasonably priced at $19.95 dazzling jewelry clothing enhancer. Things were going OK, except for the fact that one of us was a recording but at least she sounded pleasant, like the kind of woman who would happily spend an afternoon affixing tiny bits of fake shiny stuff to her jeans pockets, her kids' jackets, her cat's ears, all while watching Michael Ontkean strangle his wife for the bazillionth time on Oxygen. I realized that ordering this gizmo was a totally retro thing. Maybe I just longed for simpler times, when Olivia Newton-John wanted to know had I ever been mellow. After a couple of minutes, though, the pleasant-voiced woman started getting whiny and demanding. She would place my order, perhaps even during my lifetime, but first she wanted to share some information about "fabulous offers that are just too good to pass up!" The minutes ticked by, with me pressing "2" for No to offer after offer. Didn't I want the 15 extra sets of beads and brads, the "free" Target card and gas card, the dining discounts card, the super-expensive overnight shipping because what sane human could wait for the lumbering wagon-train approach of traditional 4-6 weeks shipping to get started? "No!" I finally screamed. "Just place the order you bejeweled bee-atch!" Pause. "I'm sorry," came the recorded voice, "I didn't quite understand that last answer. Could you repeat it?" Minutes later, it was finally over. Now all I have to do is watch my mailbox. Which would be much improved with a few sparklies, by the way.
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Celia Rivenbark is an award-winning news reporter and freelance columnist for The Sun News in Myrtle Beach, S.C. Comment by clicking here.
© 2007, The Sun News Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune Information Services |
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