Signs that you are an adult

1) You tuck in your shirt. This comes from a gradual recognition that you probably won't end up in a pickup game of baseball or tag. It's more likely that you'll run into some professional acquaintance or have to go to the bank.

2) You listen to Talk Radio. You used to listen to Rush and now you listen to Rush Limbaugh. It's a sad trade.

3) You start sentences with "Remember when..." Nothing says "old" like reminiscing about the good old days when the internet was still in black and white and you could buy a car for a nickel.

4) You file taxes. Part of being an adult is being a slave to the man. You must make real money and then have it taken away from you.

5) You know what APR means. There are several codes that you must understand in order to be a real adult. APR is one of them. No, it does not mean "Average Parental Rating." I have a feeling it has to do with mortgage (whatever that means).

6) You read the newspaper, and not just the funnies. Part of being an adult is finding fulfillment in the unfulfilling filler.

7) You part your hair or have parted with your hair. 'Nuff said.

8) You care about politics. As if there is more to life than light-up shoes and candy. Hmf, as if....

9) You give directions using North, South, East, and West. This skill comes with an awareness of a world that exists beyond your street. Still, tucked away in the corner of your heart you know that NESW really is a reminder to Never Eat Slimy Worms.

10) You eat bran cereal. Might as well go chomp on some woodchips. Can't sugar binge anymore? Yeah, you're probably an adult.

11) You like sleeping but you never get to. This is probably the biggest irony of being an adult.

Your turn. Tell us how you know you're an adult.

Short People Got No Reason

I'm sick of being treated like a second-class citizen. Everywhere I go, there are signs of blatant discrimination and unrelenting hatred toward me. It's not because I am a religious, white, Anglo-Saxon, heterosexual, middle class male; It's because I'm short.

One of my first brushes with heightism was in the 7th grade when the bus driver, Bruja (name has been changed), announced that I was too short to ride in the back of the bus.

While I was no Rosa Parks (refer to previous statement about being a white male), I had felt the sting of civil injustice, and I would not bow to it. When I got home, I began plotting a plot, scheming a scheme, planning a plan, and dreaming a dream. I worked feverishly into the night, fashioning posters to protest the discrimination.

The next day I distributed the signs to those sympathetic to my plight and then took my seat in the "tall people only" section of the bus. When Bruja told me to come to the front I signaled for the protest to begin. Chants of "Heck no! He won't go!" rang through the metallic walls of the portable prison. Painted posters that called for height equality shimmered in the afternoon sun. Finally, I stood, and with a voice not entirely conquered by puberty (okay, not at all conquered) said, "I have a dream that someday, tall people, short people, fat people and skinny people will all be able to ride in the back of the bus in harmony!" The bus erupted in cheers. My rights were won.

I stood a little taller that day. Actually I didn't. In fact I felt shorter because I realized how big everyone in the back of the bus actually was compared to me.

Since that day I have continued to be the victim of height crimes and discrimination. Nobody bullies the big strong kid. No, they pick on the little kid simply because he is little. It's hard for a young person to get an equally sized young person into a trash can. A small kid on the other hand, piece of cake. Shortcake.

Height crimes aren't limited to the Lord of the Flies social experiment we know as Junior High. Heightism has infiltrated into even the purest sectors of our society.

You doubt? Have you ever been to Disneyland? You would think that a park whose mascot is a mouse would be more friendly to the vertically challenged, but no.

"Must be this tall to ride" may seem like nothing to you, but to us short people, it is a flagrant assault on our identity as equal citizens. Shouldn't the God-given right to pursue happiness apply in the so-called "Happiest Place on Earth?" (Don't try to tell me that the "pursuit of happiness" doesn't include a churro and a turn on Magic Mountain). 

 

The hate doesn't stop at Disneyland. Prejudice, bigotry, and discrimination rage across the country.

 

 

 

Don't even get me started on basketball, the most heightist sport of all time. Well, you got me started so here I go. Basketball is an evil sport that favors altitude. The taller you are, the more successful you'll be. It's the only "profession" where your paycheck grows as you do. Talent schmalent. Shaq proved that as long as you are tall, you don't even have to be good at the object of the game (getting the ball in the basket, which of course is placed out of reach of small people) to become a celebrity gazillionaire. The mountainous man misses 52% of his free throws. Imagine going to a surgeon with that kind of success rate! 

"But what about Muggsy Bogues?" Hey, even a blind squirrel can find an acorn eventually. I've seen a white guy dance, that doesn't mean the rest of us can (unless of course we are playing Michael Jackson Just Dance. Trust me, it will change your life).

People ask me if I play basketball. I'm sure that their powers of deductive reasoning are honed enough to make some preliminary judgments about the kind of sports I play, yet they still ask. It's like asking if Donald Trump is good with kids. You should be able to tell just by looking. Let's be realistic people. You should be asking me if I play miniature golf  (I do).

It's time we stand up (Cue joke about telling a short person to stand up even though they are clearly already standing). It's time we level the playing field. Time is short (bad pun). We must act today. No more hard-to-reach shelves in the grocery stores and libraries! No more high heels for anyone over 5'6''! No more height limits on rides! No more violence! No more hate! They have a Big and Tall sections in the clothing stores, but where are the Short and Small sections? In the words of Jemaine Clement, "I'm a person. Brett's a person. That person over there is a person. And we all deserve to be treated like a person."

If you support the Equal Heights movement, please change your facebook profile picture to the icon below. Then overload your wall with posts about the issue. If anyone disagrees with you, call them a bigot and defriend them. Start internet fights with strangers. If you really want to show your support you can surgically remove height from your legs. Doing these things is the only way that the Supreme Court will ratify legislation to grant equal heights for all.

It's time that short people got a reason to live.

Ask Ethel- How to Win a Man

Take advice from Ethel, a good Christian Jew

Note from the editor: Ethel Epstein is a native of New Jersey who started writing this advice column in 1973. Since then she has helped countless people with her quick wit, concrete principles, and no-nonsense approach. After several requests we have added her column to the blog. It helps if you read with a New Jersey accent.

Dear Ethel,
   I have been a reader of your column since I was a little girl. I appreciate all the advice you've given over the years. Right now I'm trying to get the attention of a guy, but he doesn't seem to be interested. What do you think I should do?
-Lonely in London

Dear Lonely,
   Hon, (or should I say Lon?) you don't need a man to complete you. Trust me, I'm 42 years old and I've never ever touched a man. Seriously,  I am a wholesome woman who has never been polluted by such a primitive animalistic betrayal of principle.  I've been called the Mother Theresa of Jersey, because she too was unmarried (they also call me the Marilyn Monroe of Bingo night, but I'm not sure why). You probably won't reach that level of sainthood but you can always try.

You might ask,"Well what about children?" Let me tell you, my oldest child was born in 1960 and since that day he has never once complained that I was not enough of a parent for him, nor have any of the others. You will be just fine carrying on without a male. Though I will admit, they are nice on the eyes.... very nice.... you know I met Clark Gable at a bar once (though I've never tasted a drop of liquor!)... but that's a different story entirely.

Listen sister, if this so-called guy, isn't interested in you it's because A) he is blind or B) he is not blind and you need to work on your presentation skills. My website has a whole entire page dedicated to wooing a man with your appearance. I have personally tested each of the methods with 120% success rates.

Catching most men is like catching a disease. However, some men are decent and winning them is like winning the lottery (which I have one twice, though I've never gambled). Remember, a man is a natural hunter; he does not like being hunted. Let him come to you. In the mean time, fix yourself up, get into shape (there is a  picture of my hourglass figure on my website) find yourself a passion (men like women who have their own interests), develop your talents, work hard at your job or in school (I only went to the 8th grade yet I am successful because I'm a hard worker), and make food (I've baited many a man with my banana cream pies. Hey, nothing wrong with a little tasty treat to catch his attention). Avoid excessive giggling, saying inappropriate or rude things, dressing like a vamp, or wearing too much makeup. A real man wants a real woman not a girl or a flapper.

It's no use pining for a man who is not interested in you. Trust me, I used to swoon for John Fitzgerald Kennedy, and though we had several encounters I never could get him to see me as I saw me (in fact, after the restraining order I couldn't get him to see me at all). So, I left him behind. Now he is gone and I am still here. We all know who made the right decision.




Ethel Epstein is a mother, cosmetician, fashionista, Christian, Jew, Bingo player, 2 time winner of the New Jersey State Lottery, and athlete (Gin Rummy). Questions to "Ask Ethel" may be posted in the comments section of this article.

What your mission DIDN'T teach you about dating

"Yes President, I will go home and I will use everything I learned on the mission to get dates and get married." You say it and you mean it. After a final embrace with a man you have looked to as a father, you walk out of the mission office with your head (and its perfectly parted hair) held high. You are ready to move on, out, and up. Time to find my new companion, you think.

Soon you find yourself in a place like Rexburg, Idaho, where meetings about marriage are as common as conversations about the cold climate. And why shouldn't they be? I mean, to the outside observer, this place should be the Valhalla of dating right? 

It's a simple recipe:
Place some 13,000 ripe young single adults into a small mixing bowl.
Pepper them heavily with discourses and lectures about marriage
Let the mix sit in the freezer for 7 months
The result: (almost) instant wedding, and a lot of it!

Voila! It's a concoction that not even an elder can wind up burning..... or can he? Is it possible? Could Elder Superstar, the district leader to end all district leaders, the one who single-handedly taught 100 lessons in one week, the one who led 40 investigators to church through a blizzard, the greatest missionary since Paul, could he, this missionary of missionaries, mess up dating? The overwhelming response from the girls we talk to is "Yes! Very yes!"

But how? Haven't you applied everything you learned on the mission? Haven't you gone forward, armed with confidence, faith, and pristine polished shoes to find that one special girl, "the elect lady" with whom you can spend the rest of eternity? Haven't you done enough? Haven't you given it your all?

Here is something you might want to consider before taking someone out: not everything you learned on the mission translates to dating. Whaaaaaaaat? Buh buh buh, but my mission president said... I know what your mission president said. Mine said almost the same thing, but I don't think either of our presidents intended for us to date exactly like we preached. Certainly there are some timeless principles that can always be applied, but for the sake of your own salvation you must refrain from treating every sister like a potential investigator and every date like a discussion. Sisters if this is not a real problem then I invite you to chime in.

Now Elder,  I know you're used to a rigid structure and a tedious schedule, but things are a little more casual on This Side of Heaven. There is no "Date My Daughter" manual to tell you the perfect formula for dating success. There are, however, a few things that will help you NOT make your dating life a mission impossible. So loosen up the necktie and meditate upon these things:

• Unlike investigators, you don't need daily contact with the girl you're interested in. It's okay to let the savor of your last encounter sink in for a couple days. I know too many guys who have scared away girls because they insist on daily dates, phone calls, (not-so-pleasant) surprises, etc. Give her room to breathe and think. Don't go overboard. Take it easy and be natural.

• Hug. It's okay. Save the handshake for Sunday. Don't be afraid to wrap those farmer's tanned arms around a girl when you say goodnight. For anyone needing to re-learn how to hug, Bryan will be giving classes at 2 pm on Thursdays. Don't be embarrassed, we all need help sometimes.

• NO COVENANT COMMITMENTS ON THE FIRST DATE. Period.

No more companion. Time to fly solo.

• Not every situation is an opportunity to find someone to date. ie: the 2nd floor of the library, a family reunion, and the testing center, to name a few. 

• Don't invite others (especially your roommates) to participate in a date unless it's a group date. 

• After the date, do not ask for referrals.  

• Street contacts are even less effective here than they were there. Unless it's Ryan Gosling, most girls don't like being asked out by a total stranger. (Don't try to argue girls. I've heard too many complaints and too many verses of "Don't Fear the Creeper" to believe that you actually like it. You know the difference between cute and creep is attractiveness, and frankly, most of us aren't attractive enough).

• Tracting= Unattracting. It doesn't work. You can make friends that way (friends can then become more than friends) but don't knock doors with the intent of finding The One. 

• Don't fill your day with as many dates as possible. There are a few terms to describe that kind of guy, and none of them are nice.

• Don't schedule an appointment in a planner. Ask for her number and put it in your phone, then call her some time when she's probably not very busy.

• You are not on a date to teach or promote a cause. You are there to get to know her. So ask some questions, build that relationship of trust, and have some fun! 

• Old habits are hard to break but try to avoid referring to yourself as "we," or your roommate as "my companion." And for heaven's sake, don't point to where your tag used to be when you tell someone your name.

 
• Stop expecting people to make you food. Women want a provider not a parasite ------------------>

• You can only set the date with one person. There can only be one "progressing investigator."

• Observe curfew, but you don't have to be home at 9:30. On the other hand, don't feel like a date has to go all night either! 

• Don't walk so fast. Your greenie hated it when you walked so fast and your date will too. Slow down and enjoy her company. Remember, the activity isn't important; she is. 

• Avoid falling into missionary jargon. "I know that I will be a very good husband to you, and that if you date me, and pray about it, you will too." Besides the fact that the Lord doesn't have to back up every promise you make, that approach also tends to scare people away.

If you have any other advice to offer these brethren, please feel free to post it below.


  

TannerG: It's more than energy

From the brilliant mind of Sterling "The Yellow Dart" Smith comes:

       Do you fall asleep in class or work? Are you feeling drained and fatigued? Do you need energy ASAP but can't seem to get it? You don't need energy, you need TannerG! This isn't your average "swallow and wallow" energy drink that leaves you buzzed for an hour and then sends you crashing into physical and emotional despair; this is a science tested energy enhancer that will give you hulk-like energy for up to 15 days... and then will send you crashing into physical and emotional despair! TannerG's patented method of temporarily restructuring your DNA will give you energy like you've never had before!

       TannerG is a proven product capable of giving you stimulation beyond your wildest dreams. Seriously. Beyond wildest dreams. Every can contains at least one ounce of Tanner's own sweat, blood and tears. From the sleek black can to the delicious taste (most taste testers agreed that "it tastes just like a penny!") you are going to love TannerG. For only $6.99 a can, you can fundamentally transform your world into a speeding rocket of fast-motion power.

        For a mere $14.00 we will give you double, that's right, DOUBLE the amount of TannerG. That's a deal you can't find at the store. If you aren't satisfied with TannerG then put it in your car. That's right, 1 cup of TannerG is the equivalent of 3 gallons of diesel fuel. 

        TannerG hasn't yet been tested on humans, but the results have been stunning on our animal test subjects. All 24 of our test rats showed increased activity of up to 8,000%. Unfortunately all of them died within minutes of consumption due to circumstances totally unrelated to the experiment. (We assume it was old age. Who is our rat supplier and how do we go about suing them for providing faulty old rats?) Allegations that the rat deaths are somehow connected to drinking TannerG are simply a Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc, absolute poppycock. 



Do not drink TannerG if you have been diagnosed with or ever been under the vague suspicion that you might have problems relating to the brain, heart, stomach, lungs, intestines, skin, pancreas, appendix, foot, elbow, chin, or self esteem. Drinking TannerG may cause ulcers, aneurisms, cardiac arrest, pulmonary failure, cancer, rapid chest hair growth, fingernail sensitivity, blindness, tone-deafness, blood clots, stroke, paralyzation, loss of teeth, mood swings, depression, seizures, vomiting, gout, scurvy, and acne. Tanner and Bryan are not legally responsible for any accidents that may occur while drinking TannerG.
   

The Life of the Rich and Famous

Well, I'm not that famous, and I'm definitely not rich. So I guess it's not the life of the rich and famous. More like, "The Life, and that's it," or "The Life of the Single Student." Moving on...

After the power went out in Rexburg, my roommates and I made this little video as a parody of "Sweet Brown's Cold Pop Escape" (if you don't know what I'm talking about, take a quick jaunt around youtube). For those of you who missed it, here it is:

 

The video was an instant hit. In less than 24 hours it had over 10,000 views. All sorts of people began watching and sharing our video. I guess you could say it went viral (for those of you over 30, this has nothing to do with the flu).

The video was even featured on the BYU-I Admissions and Overheard at BYU-I facebook pages and seen by notable figures.

Instant fame. People stopped when we passed by and whispered to their friends, "It's those guys from the video." Strangers asked if they could take our picture. People threw goodies and daisies at us. It was all the fame and fortune a person could hope for...

Sort of. Not really. Actually, we are not that famous and heaven knows we aren't any richer, but it was a neat experience.

Beyond viral videos on the social media scene, I have found further facets of my fame in a magazine. Open your September 2012 edition of the Ensign. Turn with me to page [licks his thumb] 39 (or is it 42? Well, just thumb around until you find this picture).

But Tanner, that doesn't look like a picture of you? In fact, it doesn't look like a picture at all. Well, that's because it's a painting of me as a bearded Jaredite done by none other than the illustrious Albin Veselka.

In the fall of 2011 I modeled for Brother Veselka (a counselor in my ward) who submitted this painting in the annual LDS art competition. This piece won the merit award, Brother Veselka received the honors, and I ... well, I am just thankful that I was painted with a beard.

So there you have it, the life of the slightly famous and much less rich.

Bryan Fleming Deported

Famous Blog Producer Deported
Adam Goodman

PHOENIX, Az.- In a shocking turn of events our own Bryan Fleming was deported at 4 a.m. last Thursday morning.
      Fleming's arrest and subsequent deportation came as a great shock to friends and family. "He just said he was going back to Mexico. We had no idea that he was here illegally," said Chester Stallion, Fleming's longtime neighbor.
      Ever hiding his true ethnicity, Fleming kept the secret even from his closest friends.  "I knew he loved hot food and Spanish, but never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed that he was Mexican," said high school friend Hansel Mallow. "I mean, he was so tall and white. Latin people love to dance and that kid couldn't dance to save his life."
      As our dedicated readers know, Bryan Fleming has been the Creative Consultant for B&T's Excellent Adventure™since its inception in 2008. He has also served on executive boards for several major productions including: "The Arrrriba," a monthly newsletter from Brasil, "The Bobble-head Chronicles," a comic strip documenting the adventures of Mrs. Carlson's bobble-head dolls, and "The Tanner and Bryan Show," a sitcom scheduled to air some time in the next decade.
       Speculation about his deportation has spread like butter across BYU-I campus where Fleming previously studied. Some claim that he was framed, others that he was betrayed by jealous coworkers. The official court transcript, written by Merwyn "Skitch" Davis, identified his charges as: espionage on behalf of Mexican chimichanga cartels, hunting La Chupacabra on Federal land, and making  pinatas of political foes which he destroyed with "extreme prejudice" in direct defiance of the Mexican-American Treaty of 2008.
      Communication with Fleming has been sparse at best. In limited email exchanges with blog co-producer, Tanner M. Gilliland Esq., Fleming has stated that he is being harbored by a Mexican family in Puebla, Mexico where he also teaches English at an elementary school. Mexican Ambassador Henrique Hernandes, who was present at Fleming's hearing, said that after three months of volunteer work he may be be reconsidered for immigration, but only on a student visa.
      Our best wishes go out to Mr. Fleming as well as his friends and family, particularly to his roommate who is probably suffering most from this sudden separation.

Tears of a Wingman- Part 1

"I don't know why he always gets the ladies when it seems like I do all the work."
    Bryan and I were at a party that I had been invited to by friends that I had made in hopes of  meeting a girl for me to date. After seeing Bryan together with the very dame I had my eye on I began to evaluate the dynamics of our relationship with a mutual friend.
"That's the life of a wingman," the friend answered.
"Since when does the wingman get all the girls?" I asked.
      "Since never. The wingman does the work so the main man can get in," she said.
      "Well that doesn't make any sense. Bryan has been my wingman for years and he always gets the girls and I get nothing. Either he is a really bad wingman or..."
       "Or he isn't the wingman at all."
       I sat there in silence for a moment, contemplating the implications of the accusation. Me, a wingman? All these years I thought he was trying to help me, but really he was just using me as a meat head marionette in his narcissistic puppet show of passion. "No!" thought I. "That's not true! That's impossible!" My inner Darth Vader responded, "Search your feelings. You know it to be true." It all began to make sense in my mind. I knew I needed to confront Bryan.

        The lights were dim in the house later that evening. Stumbling through that dark, I could see Bryan preparing for bed. I decided to be direct. "Bryan?" I asked. "For years I thought you were my wingman. But now I'm starting to think, have I really been your wingman all this time?"
        "Uh oh," he said with a grimace, "I knew this day would come."
        "So it's true then?" You convinced me that you were my wingman just so you could use me like a pawn in your game of love?"
        "Yes. The best way to keep a wingman is to convince him that you are his wingman."
        "Alright. Well, at least now I know where I stand." And that was that.


This was part one of a two-part series about wingmen. Tune in sometime in the vague future for the second half. Remember, "A wingman takes one for the team so his buddy can live the dream."

B&T's Guide to Surviving a Public Restroom

   We as humans may be divided economically, politically, racially, intellectually, or a host of other "ally's" but there are a few key attributes that unite us. One of these common denominators is our need to release the byproducts of our digestive system. All mankind, rich or poor, educated or ignorant, black or white, bond or free must at some time (usually about once a day) harken to the call of mother nature and in the most vulnerable and exposed of positions, excrete the leftovers of his daily intake.
    Now we won't assume the position of John Madden, giving a play-by-play commentary about the Browns at the Superbowl. We will however, bring certain enlightenment to a certain "necessary evil:" that of using a public restroom. These tips are meant to educate those who wish upon themselves a minimal amount of collateral social damage that so often plagues our public restrooms.

Here are our Top Ten Tips of using a public restroom:

"Be a thinker not a stinker." -Ms. Knotts

1) Avoid using a public restroom at all costs. It's better to seek a throne within your own kingdom.

2) If  you know in advance that circumstances will require you to use a public restroom on a certain day, be sure to wear your most inconspicuous pants and shoes. I once made the mistake of wearing bowling shoes and corduroy pants. Big mistake! Trust me, you do not want to stand out when you are sitting down. Heaven forbid anyone take notice of your cool shoes and then remember them later when they see you passing in the halls.

3) Find a restroom as far from human traffic as possible. I'm sure Robert Frost would agree that taking the bath[room] less trodden by truly makes all the difference in this case. Besides having minimal chance of human interaction (which is the most desirable goal when using a public restroom) low-key lavatories also tend to be cleaner.

4) Remember that you never want to be caught standing still in a bathroom. If you walk in and see all the toilets in use, act like you only wanted to wash your hands. Then scrub those mitts as fast as you can and skedaddle! Remember the motto, "No John? Be gone!"

5) Don't talk to anyone. Ever. I don't care if you see your best friend or Denzel Washington. Don't you dare start a conversation, especially while they or you are in the act of self-relief. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY wants any business while they are doing their business. Few other social atrocities are more heinous than striking up a conversation in the bathroom.

6) Be wise when choosing where to sit. The same concern that goes into buying a home should be apparent in the stall selection process. What will the environment be like? Who will your neighbors be? Is it safe? Is there a lot of traffic? Will you have your privacy? What special features might it include? (i.e. motion sensor in place of the button or lever, air freshener, seat covers, two way paper dispensers etc.)

7) ALWAYS check to make sure there is toilet paper BEFORE you sit. This principle cannot be stressed enough. No ghastly vision of hell and its fiery demons could strike as much panic into the human heart as finding oneself in a public toilet with no paper. I've heard stories... terrible terrible stories...

8) If they are provided, always use the handy seat covers. If your stall of choice does not provide covers, there is nothing wrong with building a nest of toilet paper. You gotta do what you gotta do when you do what you do. (a doodoo joke? What am I, six years old?)

9) Avoid making physical contact with anything. Call me a germaphobe; I don't care. I empathize with Jerry Seinfeld who once tossed out a belt just because it touched the side of the urinal. In a public restroom the paper is free (which might be why you are there in the first place) so use it up. In lieu of an automatic flushing loo, use your foot on the lever. Don't touch that thing. You know people are touching it with their hands and you know where their hands have been.

10) Listen and be conscious of activity in the rest of the bathroom. You want to be able to time your exit when there are as few people present as possible, or ideally when the room is vacant. Listen for audible cues like faucets, hand dryers, flushing, the rummaging sounds of others groping for paper, and the main door opening or closing. If there is someone in the stall next to you do not, I repeat, DO NOT leave at the same time. Don't feel above playing the waiting game. Just don't wait too long. After all, someone might have noticed you go in the bathroom and when you leave they could think, "Man, he sure was in there a long time." 

We hope these tips have been helpful. The subject may seem taboo, but the more information you are privy to, the more successful you'll be in life and in the privy too. (I totally didn't even plan for that to rhyme)

Free Lunch and the Mary Kay Cult

Every college student should know the art of getting free lunch (don't tell me there's no such thing). If you've never sat through a Pest Control recruiting meeting just for the free pizza, you aren't being resourceful enough.

Does it seem low and cheap? Perhaps. But Pest Control and Student Support meetings are nothing compared to the low level that I stooped to last week. In this tell-all article I will explain how my search for sustenance led me to one of the most bizarre cults of our time: Mary Kay.

It all started when I was approached by a friend who was recently initiated into the Pink Persuasion. She offered me pizza to  listen to the Mary Kay Business Plan (their equivalent of the 1st Discussion). Being the sucker for free food that I am, I agreed, never imagining what I would witness there.
 Different sects give different names to their meetings. Some have revivals, others have masses, Mary Kay has parties. While men are technically allowed at these parties, they are obviously intended for women. It's kind of like feminine freemasonry. Freemarys? Not-so-free-marys? During the hour long ordeal I became acquainted with some of Mary Kay's secret rituals that may or may not go down in a giant pink pyramid like this one: (on that note, I think that all pyramid schemes should have a real pyramid as their headquarters)

In this segment I would like to outline some of the basic beliefs and practices of the Mary Kay Cult.

MK Cult History
Mary Kay started her cute little cult in the 60's when cultish groups were more popular than the Beatles. But while other cults like the Charles Manson Family and Jonestown ended in disaster, The Cosmetic Cult experienced amazing success and continues to do so to this day.



MK Cult Beliefs and Practices
From what I gathered in my brief brush with beauty is that Mary K-ites have the following beliefs and rituals:

• Mary Kay invented cosmetics and was the first to market them
• Pink is a sacred color that posses mystic powers
• Cult sisters must apply ointments and creams to their bodies in order to become ceremonially cleansed 
• Following in Mary Kay's footsteps will bring untold riches and satisfaction into one's life.
• Mary Kay did not die. She was caught up by a pink Cadillac into the Cosmetic Cosmos where she dwells in eternal beauty surrounded by the most loyal Six Figure Sales Reps.
• Faithful members who invite others to accept the Mary Kay lifestyle are rewarded with gifts ranging from pink jewelry to pink cars. As Mary Kay says on her website: "Behind every success story in Mary Kay, you will find a simple explanation of great faith." Obviously whoever has more faith in Mary Kay will have more success.

 As is generally the case with cults, once you are in it is hard to get out. Some have been successful in leaving, others have not. Entire websites like pinktruth.com seek to expose the secrets of the Pink Pyramid and assist other women "de-pink" their lives.
 One such source has said:

"One of the devices used to achieve mind-numbing compliance with all things Mary Kay was the use of the slogan. We were led down a path of little to no resistance because no matter what ugly objection surfaced in our heads, we had a cancel, cancel, canceling thought that fought back. The slogans shut down our concerns, convicted us of Mary Kay sin, aroused our enthusiasm, and otherwise controlled our thoughts."

I never would have supposed that an empty stomach would have led me to this. I now willingly impart my knowledge to all those who may fall victim to a similar trap. So when someone says to you" Come to Mary Kay," you can smile and say, "no thanks, I'll be on my merry way."