Sunday, September 19, 2010

Live it up in your bathroom during a major catastrophe.

Question: How do you prepare for a hurricane/tornado/hell freezing over? What survival tactics do you recommend?


Answer:

I'm so glad you asked, because I am clearly the best person to give this advice with my background in lifeguarding/tanning and five years of babysitting. I don't know why Obama hasn't asked me to be on the Department of Homeland Security.

-My initial response would be to tell you to go to Target (please say it with a French accent) and grab one of those first aid kits. But who are we kidding? They get me to turn my head with those awesome silver capes/emergency blankets I wear on halloween, but when I'm cold I need a legit BLANKET. Don't wrap me up in foil (ok sometimes I lay on it and tan..).

-If Tom Cruise would ever friend me, then I'd just live with him. I bet he has a bunker and that bunker is better than any Four Seasons hotel. So grab your Spiderman sleeping bag and let's wait on Tom to call me back.

-Oprah. (enough said).

-Marry someone who works at NASA.

-Marry an Italian (if you have to live in a hole, you'll have enough pasta for a few months and with the pasta, definitely some extra meat on your bones).




Clearly my ideal date for a Saturday night. C'mon who's with me? Flannel not included.

So here we go.  With every answer I have a parallel that gives you some light into my world. I, like you, definitely think about catastrophies. How can you not? There are movies about it, one of them is with my high school crush, John Cusack, so I'm obviously going to pay close attention. I'm pretty sure he makes it out alive.


No, that's not me on his back. Trust me, I did audition for the part of the scared child, but I was dragged out by security. Sigh.


And if you turn on the news, it's all over the place. Terrorism, tornados, e-coli infused spinach, eggs that will make you drop sunny side up. How do we plan to survive?

In my brain, I fantasize about random things almost all the time throughout the day. If you sat next to me and just pointed to my head and said,"Now what?" I think I might freak you out. But I'll let you in on this one scenario, mostly because

  I've shared with my closest friends and they are still my friends.

This is an example that I'm probably thinking something I THINK is funny and my best friend has some doubt. I also wish I could've invented double sided tape for my towel. If I did, would I be writing now? No, I'd be on my own private island with unlimited guacamole and chips and my unicorn, Shirley.

So my scenario involves a really bad hurricane. Initially in my fantasy it was a tornado, but those seem really scary and I don't want anyone else to get hurt.

One night there is a hurricane (potentially bad enough that Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton want to follow but there's not enough time. I'm in my apartment (which is wherever I'm living at the time, I'm not THAT detailed)...

ALL POWER GOES OUT. It's windy, cold, wet, things are hitting my window and I think a few glasses fell in the kitchen (the ones from garage sales, not the ones my dad helped me pick out) so I'm pretty shook up. It's so stormy that I run into my bathroom to sit in my bathtub.



If you're afraid you're going to panic and not know where to go, feel free to label things in your home such as BATHTUB, DRAWER WITH FLASHLIGHT, PHONE, CHOCOLATE, EMERGENCY WINE, etc.

I do this alot, if I get scared, I always hit the bathtub. Past roommates always laughed and found it strange but there I would be in the tub saying,"YOUR LOSS, I GOT THE TUB, IF YOU WATCHED NAT GEO YOU'D BE SQUEEZIN' IN HERE WITH ME."

*Sidenote: Nat Geo: National Geographic Channel. It happens all the time, apparently everyone was supposed to get into the cool groove of the nerd alert channel but I have to explain it every single time.


OK, I'm in my tub. I'm also wearing the one pair of sweatpants I own and a t-shirt. Let's not forget the comfort factor. I still haven't determined if I have socks on, but most likely not. If it was up to me I'd be running around barefoot in the sun. But my mom, by now, you sorta have the gist that she freaks out about everything so let's not get into foot diseases, lotions and potions.

I'M STILL IN THE TUB. My apartment roof sounds like it's going to be ripped off. Things are crashing outside like a Hollywood movie set (never been on one, just guessing) and then it's silent. I'm guessing two or so hours goes by and guess what-

I'M HUNGRY.

I'm Italian and I'm hungry (well I've never stopped being Italian, I just assume it's why I'm obsessed with food). Two hours to me feels like an eternity. How am I going to make it through this major catastrophe that has me held captive in my bathroom?!

It smells like Thanksgiving dessert in this tiny jar. I DARE you NOT to just try the tiniest bit. C'mon I DARE YOU.
Enter: Burt's Bees citrus facial scrub (it's my first official plug for a sponsor-HINT HINT. I love their products, in fact I love them so much I literally make out with their chapstick. LITERALLY). So as we continue with my fantasy I have to give you the side story that I loved my Citrus scrub so much I actually tried it. And by tried it, I mean I put some on my finger and then ate it. Not with a spoon, or on a plate, but standing in my bathroom right after I washed my face in my pj's, door closed...I ate my face scrub. And...it wasn't that bad. You've done it, maybe not your facial scrub, but maybe a piece of your dog's biscuit? Pet food is so fancy pants nowadays and super-uber organic that if I don't label my dog's treats I'm bound to grab a turkey stick when I'm ravenous.


SO..my fantasy. I'm in the bathroom, starving, and I remember, BURT'S BEES CITRUS FACIAL SCRUB (cough cough, plug for product). I open it up and as I sit in my bathroom waiting to be rescued by only the most attractive and humorous policemen and firemen, I survive on my facial scrub.


Almost true to size and here's me daring you AGAIN to try the nutmeg, spice, citrus goodness that should replace your Aunt Alice's stale cookies at Thanksgiving. 


Hey I'm not shallow. I said my rescuers need to be attractive AND humorous. Cut me some slack, in my fantasy I'm delirious and just surviving. A day (ok maybe two at most) goes by and I'm finally rescued. My sweat pants are loose on me (y'know because I lost weight from almost starving) my hair is definitely good because I was stuck in my bathroom and I'm betting the news team will be waiting for my story.
I mention to Ann Curry (it's a middle America story, so I'm guessing she'd cover it) how I would've died if it wasn't for Burt's Bees (cough cough, product placement) and it's a national success survival story (I just made that up and the fact that people climb and survive Mt. Everest would maybe trump me).

Burt's Bees hears about it and I get their products for the rest of my life, sorta like the Jared/Subway guy.
But not really because it's not a diet, I was just trapped, but in the way Jared exploded Subway's advertising campaign, my catastrophe turns into success for Burt's Bees (as if they need it, I just plugged them 45 times and admitted that I make out with their chapstick).

So go back to living large, you now have the ultimate device to survive if you're stuck in your bathroom.

To my one fan in Morocco, if you have trouble locating Burt's Bees, I'm sure once they endorse me I can get them to ship internationally.