What A Steal!by Freelance Midget (guest blogger)

I joined a new gym a few months ago, and it's great (that's me on the left). Private. Clean. Never crowded. Ok, I'm kidding. I would never wear ankle socks, or Adidas shoes.

But I digress. As great as my gym is however, it is completely dominated by Palo Alto housewives with nothing to do besides go to Yogilates and Cardio Sculpt at 10 am on a Tuesday, and a smattering of private equity/VC dudes who flex in the mirrors (yes, I can see you, AC Slater). Although this means I only get to choose from a menu of 3 classes that begin after 6 pm, it has a few perks like free bottled water, machine-wiping minions, in-house masseuses, and free muffins and fruit. Last week, I noticed they had a little stack of flyers advertising free goodie bags at the spa next door, so given my background, and my just-out-of-college status, how could I resist?

I had no idea what was in store for me. This wasn't just any spa, it was a "spaaaaah." I actually have no clue what that means, but it was fun to say in my head. Really though, this place isn't your Spa at the Ritz. It is a full on post-op, derma peel, teeth whitening, wrinkle-injecting (restylane? perlane? derma-lene? your choice.) chop shop. I should have realized this - it's next door to a plastic surgeon's office and post-op recovery cottage. Heaven forbid anyone realize that your once-wrinkly face didn't naturally metamorphose into this.

I walk in, and I'm the only person in there under 25 who isn't working the desk. And I'm definitely the only person in there with a boob-size that isn't the letter E in the alphabet. But who cares, I want my goodie bag. So swag in hand, I skipped home. I tell ya, I was excited.

However, as I pulled item after item from the bag. My face went from this, to this. W.T.F.

Not that I wasn't grateful for my TNS Eye Brightening Cream, Rejeuve Rejuvenating Toner and Lotion + Ceramide Treatment, and Apple-Pear-Mango-Rhino-Horn Mask...but lo and behold, what do I find at the bottom of the bag?

A baby-tee with "BOTOX" emblazoned across the chest in Swarovski crystals. Yes, you read that right. Swarovski crystal. Baby tee. B-O-T-O-X.

Ok, the magenta makeup bag that said "Botox (R) Cosmetic - Botulinum Toxin Type A" was a somewhat predictable marketing move, but this, this one: my god, the genius.

Seriously, what fantastic brain at Ogilvie & Ogilvie decided, that in a world where post-face, neck, boob, lip, thigh, butt, and tummy nip patients are trucked off in armored BRINKS trucks to secret recovery communes, a pink t-shirt proclaiming "I got a face full of Botulism" would be a marketing gold mine? As if the constantly scared/surprised eyebrows weren't indicator enough, let's put 'em in tees! That say BOTOX! I can see the back-slapping and high fives now.

I thought about that for the past week, and I was pretty set on my conclusion about the viability of the absurd pink t-shirt, until I saw this: <<http://www.bestweekever.tv/2007/05/30/unemployment-check-this-video-contains-all-the-reasons-why-our-society-is-doomed/>>

Alright, for those of you lucky enough to have the right plug-ins, and a Comcastic internet connection:

I would have paid serious money to have been that tanning salon clerk that day. Fatty commission, plus priceless internal commentary. Ionesco heaven. I saw the actual TV airing of this indecent incident, but the ridiculousness didn't quite sink in until I saw this web remake because I missed the $1300 cocktail price tag. If this guy can sell a $1300 tanning session to an 8-year old girl, this man can sell a pink BOTOX tee to Ashlee Simpson.

On first pass, I thought to myself: the little girl probably saw Herbie Fully Loaded and The Parent Trap and wanted to be a pretty race car driver/twin who had mischievious adventures. Legit. But then I realized, this LA mom-bot has to have a Sky Spa gym membership, and a Lambertson Truex bag full of US Weekly's and People magazines. So although her not-so-bright daughter has an excuse for asking "to be like Lindsay Lohan" - mom-bot, what's your excuse for wanting your daughter to aspire to be an illiterate coke fiend? Well, let's be fair. Maybe she can't read either and just flips through the magazines for all the pretty pictures. Yaaaay. Yaaaay. I can bring two of my friends!*

I bet if I show these screen shots of the little girl getting air-brushed to random persons on the street, their first impression would be "Children of Chernobyl - The Aftermath." As sad as the scene is, it's pretty amusing to see the fear of mom-bot in the eyes of a dumb kid brought on by a woman with a spray hose and latex gloves - all while mom-bot stands outside directing. "Get her cheekbones. Ger her cheekbones! She has to look JUST like Lindsay Lohan."

If you look really carefully at this next picture (bottom), this just seals the deal:

If you can't fill in the partially obscured words: it says DRIVING UNDER THE INFLUENCE. Magic. Utter movie magic. Voila! Mom-bot, you've got yourself a perfect 10:

I might be color-insensitive, but I know for a fact that this kid looks like an Oompa Loompa made out with her face. A+, mom-bot, A+. Man, and at $1300? What a steal.

*Note: 11 street cred points for getting that reference.