I had a rough day last Sunday. I was sick, I was tired, I was jacked up on Allegra-D, Flonase and some little, white allergy pill that my always questionable doctor put in an unmarked envelope and shoved into my purse during my last visit. I just didn’t know what to do.
I tried baking and burned my finger. I tried walking and stubbed my toe. I tried reading and got a paper cut. Finally, I tried writing and pretty much just embarrassed myself:
The Modern Version of “The Cobbler’s Children Have No Shoes”
By Wendi Aarons
The Plastic Surgeon’s Children Have No Implants!!
The End
In short, I was an antihistamine riddled nightmare, so I decided to just give up on life and go watch Bridalplasty on E! instead. If you haven’t seen Bridalplasty, it’s probably because you’re one of those huge snobs who has “taste” and “standards” when it comes to your TV viewing since this is definitely the best show about future brides competing to win plastic surgery operations that I’ve ever seen.
(My internal monologue while watching Bridalplasty:
Why am I watching this crap? What is wrong with me? I should put on something more intelligent. Like Tom & Jerry. Or that infomercial about growing tomatoes for fun and profit. But since the remote’s all the way over there, I guess I’ll just have to see who wins this week’s challenge. Sigh. It’s such a shame these women are so shallow and not as concerned about their souls as they are about their look…Oh, COME ON, Cheyenne! You’re never going to win that surgery to shorten your second toe if you don’t play dirty! THINK, you big nosed moron! THINK!)
The cosmos must have sensed that I needed divine intervention right about then because the doorbell suddenly rang and there, standing on my Halloween-themed welcome mat that I use year round, were two of my Arch Nemesi. No, not the usual Girl Scout menace, but the Jehovah Witnesses. Who never even offer to get you addicted to cookies.
Now, let me very strongly state that I don’t care at all about someone’s religion—I am 100% Live and Let Live and even used to be good friends with a Wiccan until she stole my Bananarama CD and used it in the love ritual she performed on the altar in her condo. Plus I’m sure the Jehovahs must be very nice people or else Michael Jackson wouldn’t have joined them.
However.
When I was 17-years-old and living with my parents, a group of JWs—a skinny man, a skinny woman and a sickly little boy wearing a newsboy cap so he looked straight out of Central Casting —would come by our house once a week to try to convince me to join their church. I was too nice and naive back then to give them the bum’s rush, plus we didn’t have a front window to look through before opening the door, so I’d always get stuck listening to their rap and taking one of their informative pamphlets. By the end of the summer, not only did I have a stack of JW literature about two inches thick, but I also had a growing interest in how to best install security cameras and trip wires on a one-story house.
Fortunately, my problem with them was solved when I went 500 miles away to college a few weeks later. There were no cell phones or emails back then, so the only way you could keep in touch with friends and family was through long distance phone calls and letters (yes, I’m 99 years old), which is why, when I found a thick, handwritten letter waiting for me in my dormitory mail box one day, I was thrilled. At least, I was until I started reading it and realized it was from the skinny Jehovah’s Witness woman who’d tried her best to convert me all summer. “I sure hope you’re doing good,” the letter said in her looping scrawl, “your younger sister was kind enough to give me your college address! Wasn’t that sweet?! Hope you’ve been thinking about our teachings! Here, let me go over them again…”
I got one letter a month from her until school ended that spring. Once she even sent me a drawing of a horse that I hung up in my friend’s room because she liked animals.
So that’s why, when I saw the two smiling ladies on my porch last weekend, I immediately panicked. I didn’t want my life to turn into another marathon recruiting session. I didn’t want to encourage them. And while I was pretty sure they weren’t as zealous as my skinny friend, I really didn’t want them writing me letters in their spare time. (Although, I do still like to get mail.) But was I now mature enough to politely decline their offer? Was I assertive enough to let them know I mean business? Was I evil enough to give them my younger sister’s email, home address and social security number just to finally get some well-deserved payback? As it turned out, none of those things even mattered.
Because once those two well-meaning ladies got a good look at my red, runny nose and my glazed eyes, and once I began babbling about cobblers, white pills, and whether or not Janessa really needed a tummy tuck to fit into her wedding dress, they immediately knew they were barking up the wrong drugged-up tree.
“Would you…” one of them halfheartedly said as she clutched her pamphlets to her chest and slowly began backing away. “Be interested…”
“No, I really wouldn’t!” I slurred while sloppily shutting the door. “And as I’m sure you can see, that’s probably best for all of us. Whee!” Then I hiked up my sweatpants, went back to the couch, turned on Bridalplasty and gave myself a pat on the back. Because at least I’d finally succeeded at doing something that day.
Even if it meant I probably wouldn’t be getting any more horse pictures in the mail.
One of these days I HAVE got to show up at your house uninvited just for the entertainment value. And I’ll bring my camera.
Oh my gosh, I love Bridalplasty. I’ve read four books so far this year just so I have other things to talk about so no one will *know*.
And I once got talking to Mormons for ages and they tried to convince me that Jesus visited the Americas by showing me a painting of him with a bunch of Mayans. Cute, huh?
We have a huge NO SOLICITING sign on our door, and even that didn’t help.
I have been watching Bridalplasty religiously. I have no standards in TV watching. I mean, my favorite all time reality show was the original Paradise Hotel.
God, I miss that show.
Oh lord, I love Bridalplasty. Because I’m really hateful, I especially love it when she tells them their wedding will still go on, it just won’t be perfect. Oh, how that makes me giggle. It is also probably unhealthy how much I loathe Janessa.
Man, those people are PERSISTENT! I’m the 17 year old you. I have a hard time turning away someone who is asking to read me scriptures. Ugh! They came, they came, and they came, and then one day hubs answered the door and before they got a word in, he was all “Now’s not really a good time.” and slammed it in their faces. So now they just think I am some poor little wifey who is most likely interested in their teachings, if it weren’t for my dictator husband who is keeping me locked away in a tower. Or my own house.
And why the hell am I so worried about what they think???
I figure JWs believe just 144-thousand people get into heaven, and that they’ve probably already hit that quota, so, why should I bother…
Feel better!
And even if it means you’ve foreclosed on Eternal Paradise.
The skinny ones are the worst. Most zealous.
Bridalplasty hasn’t drawn me in the way Married To Rock has. Cheyenne is such a hillbilly name. I had like 8 friends named that.
Cure for JWs coming to your door idea from a friend of my brother’s.
Open the door buck naked. They woke him up early one Saturday morning and he decided to give them a silent but powerful blast.
It worked they never knocked on his door again.
When I lived in DC with my parents I got regular (to my door) deliveries of Watch Tower. I could never be rude – they were always sweet old ladies.
The next JW experience I had was with a man who worked the same subway station where I transferred every Sat/Sun I went into the city (NYC) for my weekend college job. He was like a machine. Same speech every time and no remorse for giving it to the same people week after week.
And my third and last JW story is about a co-worker at my first job out of college. She was a very sweet girl and I had no idea what her religious leanings were until I realized that she never came to the office birthday parties. That in and of itself isn’t particularly remarkable since they were always boring and awkward. But there was CAKE. And I’ll sit through just about anything for cake. So of course I found it bizarre that my co-worker never ate any. She explained to me that she didn’t celebrate birthdays, etc. I understood that part, but I was still a little hazy on why she couldn’t eat some cake after the festivities had concluded. But she was pretty hard core. And while I did feel badly for her – missing out on one of the ONLY perks I had discovered about working to support myself – at the end of the day, it just meant more cake for me.
I don’t even know how to say this, but here goes: When we moved to this small town, and I had 2 under 2, I was so lonely that I let Mormons in, just because I knew they’d talk to me…and no one had talked to me in 18 mos.
Sad, huh?
Oh my god. I can’t believe they wrote to you at college. You do realize you had Jehovah’s Witness stalkers right? Did you ever get any mysterious heavy praying phone calls? Skinny looking people across the street from your dorm window with binoculars?! Suddenly finding bibles in your bed?! “Get out of the house! The praying is coming from the other room!!!!”
Ok, coming to your door I can handle-just don’t answer, say something rude and slam the door. I have a new twist. As a teacher, every few years I have a JW in my class. I get regular deposits of pamphlets on my desk, refusals to write essays on gratitude (“I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”), and-yes, you guessed it-I’m supposed to make sure the kid doesn’t grab a birthday treat and eat it. Come on, I can’t even stop myself from eating treats-do they really think I’m going to enforce their weird anti-holiday policy? Wait, I could confiscate that treat and eat it myself….
Someone needs to turn the JW’s on to the power of social networking because their marketing is so not working. The power to convert is so much higher with Tweets and FB photo posts. As far as Bridalplasty goes, when ever I am feeling particularly bad about my parenting skills, I turn on the tv to see how these young ladies turn out. These offspring are at the ‘inferior parenting’ end of the spectrum (not that I’m giving a plug for the Chinese parenting end of the spectrum). I’d just like my children to land somewhere in the middle. Without a JW after their name.
I got caught once in college, they stopped by my apartment my junior year and I was too polite to kindly ask them to leave (or slam the door in their faces…either works for me really) and I ended up talking to them for an hour while my boyfriend sat at the top of the stairs laughing at me.
He’s now my fiance and knows better than to ever let me answer the door unless we know we’ve got company coming.
Props to you, lady! Loved this entry and I’m totally going to take some pointers from it. Even if it means I have to shove my face into a pile of dust to achieve the runny nose look. Because I… am dedicated.
Last winter someone knocked on our front door. Now usually people always come to the back door. So, with the door shut I called out “who is it?” because I was still in my pj’s. I thought the man said Bob, my land lord’s name. I thought that’s odd that he would come to the front door and proceeded to open the door. Much to my surprise it was not my land lord but a man in a suit wanting to tell me about the scripture until he saw that I was in my pj’s. To this day the only thing I can figure out that he said instead of Bob would be God. Now they just leave the flyers for the church in our mailbox and have not knocked on the door since. I wonder why?
Hope you are feeling better.
I’m still thanking my lucky stars we put a child-lock on the front door…the other day, while sitting on the escape pod (also known as the potty) my youngest, who opens the door for ANYBODY, suddenly yells “Daddy’s at the door!!” Since the child lock was on and he couldn’t get in, I jumped off my escape pod, barely pulling myself back together, only to see JW’s staring back at me through the front door window. I just “politely” said we weren’t interested. Yes, thank goodness for doors with windows! And thank goodness for that lock, otherwise, they would have been right there during my “blast off.”
By the way… Bridalplasty??? Dang, I gotta get a life
Given my heathen lifestyle up until this point, I highly doubt I am anywhere within a gazillion miles of the front of the (very short, according to the JWs) line of folks who will get into heaven. And I am perfectly fine with that. Party on, my hell-bound friends.
I LOVE when I see your name in my email. It’s the first one I always look at and it always cracks me up! Thank you for making me laugh!
Really? There’s a surgery to shorten the second toe? (just askin’, no reason…)
We got some letter in the mail from JW and I wanted to write them back some scathing email about “how dare they?! Who did they think they are?!? And p.s. I’m Jewish!!” but Matt, the sensible one, said “no”.
And Bridalplasty? I tried out but huh, there was too perfect to fix.
We have a strict “Never Answer the Door” policy and so far it’s worked well for us. We disabled our doorbell and if someone knocks we all hide in the guest bathroom like there’s a tornado approaching.
Bridalplasty? Puh-LEEZ! Those women are too late to the game. For serious sickness, check out “Toddlers & Tiaras”. Now THERE are some seriously deranged gals (the moms, not the kids….although one of the dads is pretty seriously wacked, too).
Can I get the name and address of your doctor?
I will even send you a picture of a horse for it.
I am HORRIBLE at getting rid of the JWs who stop by. They know my name. My real name. Not my internet name. Although if they knew that, they might leave me alone.
I like getting mail, too. We should write each other letters and postcards and notes. Particularly since I continue to purchase postcards and notecards and stationery with the intent of writing to people and then . . . I don’t.
“Big nosed moron”?! Was that really necessary?
The folk wisdom I heard from my husband (his motto: “Seldom Correct, but Never in Doubt”) is that the JWs believe that Jews are beyond saving. Though I’m not a member of the tribe, that’s always been my ruse. “Sorry, I’m a Jew, have a greatdayseeyoulater” as I slam the door shut. Not sure if it’s the door slamming or the religious fakery that works, but it’s my system.
LOL! This was a great story!
When I was in university, two young, oddly attractive JW’s came by while I was studying for an exam. I was also too naive and nice to tell them to piss off (and was also intrigued by their cuteness). I did ask them why they were targetting suburbanites, instead of doing something more useful with their time. (ie. Helping the homeless, etc)
One of them replied they did work with those less fortunate and shortly after I thought that was the end of it.
Nope, they returned while I was taking said exam. My dad wasn’t quite as nice as I was when they came by! 😉
That’s what still freaks me out about the suburbs. People can just walk right up to my door and knock.
99? You don’t look a day over 29. As for your sister. She looks over a 100.
When I was in high school, I frequently allowed two hot looking young Mormon guys into my house. I tried to convert them to “real” Christianity and they tried to convert me to Mormonism. They finally gave up, but it was a fun couple of months.
And “The Plastic Surgeon’s Children Have No Implants!!” is just classic.
I have a sign on my door: The Witch Is In. I also have another sign — No Solicitors, this means Scouts, Salesmen and Missionaries.
You don’t look 99, unless the drugs are doing something nasty at the subcellular level.
Did you at least grab the remote on your way back to couch?
followed this on twitter, and loved the play-by-play there. MEMORY: Mormon boys walking up towards the door, w hubby weeding. He looks up and says, “Go ahead and knock, but she’s fucking nuts. I just work here, thank god.” They looked at each other, turned, and left!
Poor baby. Where is your Mother?
My JH’s are lovely people. I look forward to their visits. We get along fine. We never never ever talk about religion.
Get well soon. Though I don’t see how you can without homemade chicken soup.
Rikki
I was studying once in my families dining room when some JW ladies came to my door. And because my dining room is right in front next to the door and there’s a big window; they saw me. So I picked up my phone, turned off the volume, and faked a very profane call while heading to answer the door. They haven’t been back since, and I don’t study in the dining room anymore. Even if it was the best study space.
I live in Silver Lake, which is right next to Hollywood. Just the other day, 2 young Mormons came a knockin’, and when I told them no thanks, I was in the middle of “work” (i.e. catching up on season 7 of “The Shield”) they were very pleasant, then wanted to know if I knew of any celebrities in the neighborhood.
Re: reply to #9 – Sniffling in Alberta
He is currently happily married to my cousin and is 60 something.
He was a reasonably attractive young man at the time, about 1975 or so. So not a bad sight but too much for the “innocent eyes” of the 15 yr old JW girl in the group.
Small town BC so it became folklore among the 20 and 30 something males of the day.
Wow, now this is awkward…those weren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses they were strip-a-grams I hired to make your day a little brighter. (For an extra $20 there was a happy ending in it for ya but I left that part for you to pay since I wasn’t quite sure how well you were feeling).
Hahahaha, I love it.
There are two Jehovah’s Witness churches near here that have gone under in the past three months. Maybe people really do want a dam birthday cake??
I am notoriously mean to door to door people. Especially religious people.
Your sister still needs payback. She gave them your ADDRESS? Although I understand her plight, she needed to get them off the doorstep bad. Bad enough that she’d sell out her family.
And I, for one, have no standards when it comes to TV. How have I missed this show?
When a pair of Jehohvah’s Witnesses last stood on my doorstep and told me that they wanted me to join their crusade for spiritual health, I said I would be happy to do so if they also joined me in my crusade to legalize gay marriage, and then we could all be helpful to each other like good neighbors should be. Scared them right off. At least when I told the Mormon boys that I am an alcohol-loving atheist lesbian, they still offered to help me rake my yard.
No I haven’t seen Bridalplasty but I have seen that show with the 16 year olds whose super rich daddies spoil them hideously rotten. I comfort myself by feeling smug and superior in my authentic life over materialism lifestyle.
And yes, I have told many a JW to get lost. I’m a live and let live kinda woman, too, but only when they’re not standing on my front porch.
My mother and both of my sisters are JW. I chose not to be – that’s living on the edge. It sure does make holiday’s easier though.
ROFLMAO!!!
I remember being around 14 when a couple of kids my age that were JW came knocking. I let them in and they went through their whole spiel. Back then they didn’t usually have any copies of the Watchtower to give out, but would read out of their bibles.
SO these two, VERY nervous, brand-new missionaries proceeded to read at break-neck speed all the words printed in red, barely pausing to draw a breath….finally, the one that was reading paused and shot out,”Do you pray every day?”
And being the very spiritual person I was and still am, I said, “Yes!”
They. Were. Stunned. No one had told them, apparently, in JW missionary classes that they might actually encounter someone who prayed every day. What were they supposed to say? What were they supposed to do?
So they did what anybody that age would do. They said, “Oh.” Then they got out as fast as they could.
We have them come around here. The secret to keeping them from coming back frequently is not to take the literature. I have had them ask me if I was reading the signs of the times and I just said, “Yes, Jesus is coming any day now and I can’t WAIT!” Which is true, so I’m not lying, LOL. But I will not take their literature, once you do, they will never let you alone. But they are unfailing polite, so I try to be the same back.
So scary. Anyone coming to the door that’s not the UPS or Fedex guy, I pretend I’m not home. This also goes for Halloween. Poor kids, I turn off the lights, muzzle the dogs and hide out.
Bridalplasty! I have been dying to see that. I had a nice Jehovah’s Witness neighbor and she would always invite me to things at her hall. My dad would never let me go. I used to get so mad because doesn’t going to a hall just sound like fun? : )
Wait. I’m slow, so let me just over this and make sure I have it straight. If I’m ever in the neighborhood and I really feel like having a snack with you or something….should I NOT show up with a picture of a horse and some pamphlets? What if the pamphlets involve some sort of inside scoop on bad plastice surgery or snippets of reality tv that no one’s ever seen before? Can I come in and talk to you then?
OOOOh, this made me laugh so hard. First of all, let me just say that my wacky Biological Father that I did not know growing up, became a JW for 13 years. When we reunited, I went to a meeting with him, to do some investigation. Yup, they really are a cult. He then left Jehovah to beat drums in naked circles in the wilderness.
Next, I live in a small village in Germany. Do you think I am safe? No. I answer my door, and normally it is the chimney sweeper, the apple farmer, or some other pleasant person. JW’s are everywhere. They found me and talked to me about “HAPPINESS”. Even read me excerpts from some scripture. I thought it was a sign because I was so miserable. My husband had just left for a 2 month school in the States. They are bilingual…si I couldn’t use the, “I don’t speak German” excuse.
I told my mom about this episode, and she gave me the solution…JW’s are not allowed to talk to former JW’s. So, next time this happens to anyone, just tell them that you quit JWdom, and they will magically just walk away. Awesomeness.
You are like a blog post ready to be written every day, aren’t you? 🙂
Love it…The JWs hit us up while we were unloading our groceries one day. The whole family. I mean, there was no way to get away from the timid looking woman and her pamphlets, so I just took one, shoved it in with the milk and oreos (oops..I mean, the lettuce and tofu) and shuffled back into the house.
— Signed, The girl with a blog whose feed keeps screwing up and the girl who reads your blog but doesn’t comment because she has been trying to start a photography business and is somewhat failing.
There’s a Kingdom Hall about 3 blocks from my house, on my friend’s street even. They’re everywhere and they do not respond to my crazy. I used to brandish my German Shepherd at them (I told her they had snacks) and they’d back away but one guy persistently asked me from his station on the corner if I wanted to read anything. I told him angrily one morning that he needed to stop talking to me. When my dog died he was gone for a bit and a few months later he came back and approached me again. I looked him right in the eye and said, “I’m the girl with the German Shepherd, I told you not to talk to me. You HAVE to remember me and stop.” There’s an old JW lady in my building who was all nice to me forever and I was all Live and Let Live until she let her friends in and they went around knocking on apartment doors. When they knocked on mine I opened the door a crack, saw the pamphlets and proceeded to scold them like errant puppies, “Ladies! No! No!” and closed the door. I do not speak to her in the courtyard anymore. She doesn’t understand why. (The silent treatment, THAT’ll show her!) If you’re out on the street well, I can’t control that, but in my home? Oh hell no.