Panel 1: Elly has put on her favorite sweater, the one that gives her rack a high-gloss sheen, and is pushing a cart containing grapes and a can of Giant Red Beer (tm). She sees a display of pastel colored brooms, dustpans, and buckets, with a sign saying "GRUBBERWARE" and helpfully expositioning "Since 1975." Elly's thought bubble leads us into ...
Panel 2: Ah, thinks Elly, remember that time I went to that Grubberware party? There was the hostess in a mauve dress, and that redhead who constantly had gas pains and was always grabbing her stomach, and the Black woman with one boob, and that old lady who hung out with all us newlyweds for some reason. And the presenter put everything on the floor and we had to stare at her ass as she crawled around all night. Good times.
Panel 3: "Ladies," hawks the presenter, "the Grubberware people present a new concept in cleanup!" Yes, it's ReefSponges! We've hacked off a piece of a coral reef and buffed the sharp edges away. Plus, it's not like those coral reefs are going to be going anywhere in the future, right? Uh, right?
"Is it physically possible for my leg to be at this angle?" Elly wonders. "Why is Lone Breast's shirt growing longer at an alarming rate? Have the cleaning fumes put me in an Escher-like state of visualization?"
Panel 4: "Holy shit!" thinks Oldy McAncient. "That 'all-plastic cleanup container' is just a BUCKET! And it costs $30.17 in 2007 Canadian dollars! We're getting hosed!"
Panel 5: Elly fiddles with some Eau Illegible, which the hostess finds alarmingly entertaining. "Hmm, 'apothecary style' means there is no childproof cap on this cleaner," thinks Elly. "It will fit in perfectly with the rest of my dangerous household!"
Panel 6: As the presenter hollers in the background to no one in particular, Elly chooses a refreshment while an alien tries to explode out of Uni-tata's cheek.
Panel 7: Elly rambles off a list of cleaning supplies. "Hopefully something will be strong enough to disinfect the toilet rim, and we won't all catch typhoid fever from Baby Liz again," she thinks.
In the background, the hostess looks positively exuberant as Elly makes her order. Delight in getting another free Grub-brush? Or is she just so damn proud of Elly for sacrificing herself to buy supplies for the eeeevil housework, she could just pop? Everyone revolves around the Pattersons, after all!
Mrs. Monotit sniffs a can of cleaner and wonders, "If I drink this, can I avoid getting sucked into the Patterson Worship Orbit for the next forty years?"
Panel 8: Elly returns to her electric-blue living room. "How was your night out?" asks John. Elly looks dismayed, because of course, the thought of cleaning renders her incapable of having fun.
Now, this is where this strip totally lost me. My mother hates cooking, to the extent that my parents have been living in a house without a working oven for nearly two years. She actually hates food of all kinds. But my mother spent a lot of time going to Pampered Chef parties in my childhood, because:
- free food
- free wine
- chance to hang out with your friends
- chance to get out of the house and away from the kids
- presentation occupies a very little part of the evening, with plenty of time for visiting
- even if you feel pressured to buy something, you still got all of the above out of it
So I'm supposed to feel sorry for Elly because she couldn't see a single bright side to a night out, with free food and adult company? Hmm, I seem to be all out of sympathy. But I do have this all-plastic cleaning container of Get Over Yourself for only $25.99 postpaid!