meeting billy blanks and writing tampax

your average thursday thoughts

Okay, Billy. I did it. Due to my unhealthy obsession with and my potentially obsession with Tae-Bo. I bought your book. I hope it really does show me how to do some of the exercises that I think I’m doing wrong. To tell you the truth, it’s all the guilt I feel about not paying for the first three tapes. I’m trying to make it up to you, Billy. I swear I am. You can thank madbrunette for sending me the reminder, and Juliet for sharing this story:

Meeting Billy I did meet Billy — he was very polite, and kind of short. I felt really really bad, because I haven’t done Tae-Bo for about 2 months — I felt like a big old lazy lying dork up there shaking Mr. Billy’s hand for no good reason other than I felt like it.

See, he came to the office where I work, and was meeting everyone who helped put out his Tae-Bo book (BUY IT) — and I had nothing at all to do with the book, but I was jonesing to meet the Man, so a coworker and I snuck like little weasels up to the conference room where he was standing about with lots of grinning publishing folk and a person or two who looked like they might have been part of an entourage. We hung about the door giggling like fools for a few moments until we got ushered in by our publisher, and then we got to meet Billy and said stupid things like “I’m a big fan” and “Hi, I’m Juliet” from me (because really, I was /meeting/ him, ostensibly, supposedly not just ogling his celebrity — and that’s what you do when you meet someone. I don’t know, it made sense in the half second I had to consider before my mouth opened.) To his credit, he looked me right in the eye while he shook my hand and said, “Hi, I’m Billy.” (his hand was dry and his handshake not quite firm — although I’m not sure if that was because he was trying to be careful not to crush the little fingerbones of all the nice young ladies he was meeting). Then we smiled a bit more like morons and ran away quickly before we could look any more foolish.


And now for a little mail…

Dear Tampax,

Recently I was watching television and I saw a commercial for your product. I believe it was Woodstock and people were running around enjoying the peace and whatnot, at the last few seconds a banner proudly proclaims “Tampax Was Here.”

After I got over my initial reaction, which went something along the lines of “EEEW? WHY?” I realized that the tagline “Tampax Was Here” could be used greatly to your benefit. I offer you the following promos:

A man with a black eye standing in a doorway holding a fistful of wilting flowers. He smiles weakly. “Tampax Was Here.”

A completely disheveled room with all of the clothes from the closet covering the floor. In the middle of the floor is a cat. He looks at you and shrugs. “Tampax Was Here.”

My friend Becca and I came up with another: A tabletop. An overturned bottle of wine, mostly empty. Six Midol tablets are strewn. One half-melted tub of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream. One shredded photo of boy. “Tampax Was Here.”

Shot of a bathroom stall from the outside. At the bottom we see a woman’s legs. They are on tiptoe, bent inward at the knees. “Tampax Was Here.”

A huge traffic jam. Overhead a jet writes in the clouds, “I’m fucking sorry, okay?” “Tampax Was Here.”

A demolished car. “Tampax Was Here.”

A Blockbuster movie receipt: “When Harry Met Sally.” “Say Anything…” “Steel Magnolias” “Pretty Woman” “True Romance” “Natural Born Killers” “Dick” “Tampax Was Here.”

Just thought I’d share with you a few ideas. Keep up the good work.


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