The Gift

I think this is a good omen for the Staycation. It may even be a good omen for the new year, who can say.

When I got home last night this mysterious box was waiting for me on my desk.

But before I can tell you what was in the box, I have to tell you another story.

***

Once upon a time, in one of my other incarnations, I was the 1-800 skin care expert for a small natural skin care company. I was the person that you would speak to if you bought our products, used them unwisely or without reading the packaging, and then called the 1-800 number to complain.


(BTW, we had very nice products. The company no longer exists in its present form and was bought out by a much bigger company and everyone lost their jobs. But what I did learn was that 1. people are silly and have greatly exaggerated dreams of what a jar of face cream can do for them, 2. people don't read labels or instructions, and 3. when I say "people" in this instance, I mean women.)

Anyway, this is only part of the story. Because we were such a small company, when I was not on the phone with customers, it was part of my job to help figure out marketing angles for our products. The boss really wanted to get us written up in InStyle Magazine and other beauty mags (and to my credit, I once got us a mention in Harper's Bazaar by pulling a very large string from my days in the cosmetics world).

But more than anything else, the boss really really wanted us to get our products in those Oscar bags. You know, the bags full of shwag. Bags loaded with expensive skin care and fancy cell phones and jewelry, the bags they give to the presenters at the Oscars. Like Gwyneth Paltrow really needs your product. Or gives two hoots about it.

Anyway, we never did get our products into an Oscar bag. The closest we ever got was that a supposedly fancy shmancy salon in Beverly Hills stocked one of our facial masks for a while, but that's it.

The purpose of this post, however, is not to go on about the inner world of the skin care business. It's to tell you that I got my first piece of shwag. And unlike Gwyneth Paltrow, I'm going to keep my shwag and not give it to my personal trainer who will then give it to her assistant who will then sell it on eBay.

***

My schwag comes in the form of a jar. A jar... some of you might be savvy enough to guess what it is... are you guessing?... of Baconnaise!

SCORE!

One of the nice things that happens from time to time when you have a blog, besides the other nice things you might already know about (friends, connection, creative expression), is that you will get a random email from someone who found your blog because it mentioned them in a helpful way.

Which is why I got a very nice email from Dave, the self-described Bacontrepreneur of Baconsalt.com. When he offered me my very own jar of Baconnaise to try, of course I jumped up and down and was very excited about it. (In hindsight, I should have asked him for some food to go with the Baconnaise, because we have none and now I have to go to the store and get something to put the Baconnaise on, but that's entirely my fault and the way things roll in Casa Tangobaby and is not really his concern.)

***

For those of you who still are not quite sure what I'm talking about or don't remember reading my post about Baconnaise, let me tell you that Baconnaise a spread, thick like mayonnaise and smells like heavenly, delicious bacon. Ostensibly the idea is that you can put Baconnaise on sandwiches, burgers, etc., but I can see where I'd be sampling it out of the jar straight and also dipping vegetables I don't normally eat into it because it would even make celery taste good.

Despite the lack of things in the fridge to put my Baconnaise on, I found some Triscuits and did a taste test. And the findings? YUM!

YUM, like in:

1. I'm definitely going to the grocery store asap with the sole intent of procuring foodstuffs that I can put my Baconnaise on;
2. If I was a NASCAR, I would be the Baconnaise Car.
3. If Baconnaise was skin care, I would put it all over my body as a moisturizer because it's THAT GOOD, even though it doesn't say to do that on the label.

So, in conclusion, if I were you and I really liked bacon, I'd get a jar of Baconnaise, either by visiting their website or asking your local market to get some for you. And tell them tangobaby sent you. ;-)

And Dave, thank you for my treat/shwag. I promise to get some sandwich fixins asap and make a proper Baconnaise sandwich! I was just too excited to wait....

***

ps.: This is probably old news to some, but have you seen Gwyneth Paltrow's blog? "I have this incredible, blessed, sometimes difficult, very lucky, very unique life, and I've gotten to travel all over the place and to work and live in different cities...and sometimes friends need help finding a sink that looks midcentury." (You know I don't make this shit up.) This makes me dislike her even more than I already do, which I did not think was possible. Gwyneth, honey, leave the blogging to the little people, and you just go back to ironing your hair and making sure Madonna's okay.

pss.: I think I have scientifically proven that there is a Bacon Loving Gene (BLG). Very recently my niece, Little Curly Girl (LCG), was asked by her mother what her most favorite thing was in the whole, wide world. Being only 2.5 years old, of course she did not say her new baby sister, Princess Chubness. She answered "pudding." But when asked if there was anything she loved even more than pudding, LCG gave it some serious thought, and then said "Yes, bacon." So even though LCG is not a child that sprang from directly from my loins, we are related by blood and therefore I think I have proven the existence of the BLG. I am going to get LCG her own jar of Baconnaise to further my scientific research.