I am a sucker. I am an advertiser's wet dream. If it can be advertised, I can be convinced that I want to buy it or beg for it for a gift. I am especially susceptible to late night infomercials.
Debbie Meyer Green Bags? Of course! Who doesn't want to keep their produce brand-spankin'-fresh?! I am fully convinced that these special bags will make my strawberries last until the end of time, unless I remember I have them in the fridge and eat them all in one sitting.
The Bumpit? Yes! I want it! I even have it! Sadly, it does not work. I am truly disappointed. Nevermind the fact that I have never nor will I ever actually leave the house with any sort of hill or mountain sculpted into my hair.... the models on the commercial seemed so happy. So put together- which is totally my fantasy. I am one of those women who always looks like she could have used an extra five minutes to get ready. Disheveled is my norm. Anything to help it not be like that would be welcome. Next I am gonna try the InStyler. If Allure magazine says its good then it has to be, right?
I can totally see the use for the Kangaroo carrier to make switching purses that much easier. At three in the morning the Neckline Slimmer makes sense and I am a huge fan of Proactive though I do not possess the pimply face that the product requires. I can kick the asses of all the PX90 people and I dream of having closets thoroughly organized with those special hangers and Space Bags and the Flip Fold.
Oh these advertisers have me by a choke-hold. My late night brain wants it all. (My late night brain also thinks that there is a chance in hell that someday I will hit the winning lottery numbers...)
But the other night I found my Holy Grail of late night infomercial products. The EZ Egg Cracker. Its not so much that I have the obviously huge problem of cracking and separating eggs that this product promises to alleviate. Its the "free gift" that comes with it. An egg scrambler that you use to scramble the eggs IN THE SHELL. Just poke this little probe into the bottom of the egg and press a button and egg innards are whipped and mixed. I MUST have this. And not so much because I spend my mornings bitching and moaning that the scrambling process takes just too much time and muscle....no... what I want to do is steal into your house (yes, yours) and prescramble all of your eggs. I want the media to pick up this story- a rash of home invasions where the only damage done was creating morning convenience.
I wanna be called The Scrambler.
Or maybe the Egg-sistentialist.
Sigh. I need help. And a Jupiter Jack.