And a one, and a two, and a three…three…three trays!
Once the meeting gets started, thinking she knows the answer, Sonja asks the designer if he’s seen her photo shoot with her sprawled across her dining room table flashing her hoo-ha.
Unfortunately, he hasn’t, which deflates Sonja on many levels. She probably thought he’d be entranced by her, but even worse, it also means he doesn’t really know about her hoo-ha, umm, brand. Sonja is correct in that she is the vajayjayin’ brand, so it’s disappointing he walked into the meeting knowing nothing about her. All he needs to know is that her hoo-ha is her brand. Instead of burning images of Mickey Mouse onto toast, Sonja’s toaster oven is for the more mature set, searing images of tacos and bearded clams onto anything that hits one of its trays. Pretty sure the Hornysaurus will be in for one…and another one in four hours.
It should sell well. Every guy she’s slept with will probably buy one, so that’s easily a million!
While they are discussing images and fonts, Sonja is bringing up her failed production company logo. Sonja has a bubbly personality, but mister graphic artist isn’t falling under her spell. The talk of mission statement and un-sexy “J” fonts begin to shut Sonja down. She needs and wants professional help, just not in the graphic artist/marketing department.
Can you believe this picture that some old guy in Miami sent me? He used Times New Roman, for pity’s sake. Send him a cease and desist letter…and use Bazooka font.
She needs the logo soon because the boxes are ready to be made. The designer is only feeling favor, not money time pressure, unlike Sonja, whose biotoasterlogical clock is ticking double-speed. The two of them just aren’t meshing. It looks like she wants to walk out, but she stays. Even more ego busting happens when he tells Sonja that he doesn’t want her all over the box. She has a black and white photo ready to go, but Heather encourages her to go full-on color since she’s like a box of jelly beans. Yes, she said jelly beans, though you know she’s thinking about those weird Bertie Bott’s flavors, like earwax or boogers or broomstick-ridden-hard-and-put-up-wet.
I detect some notes of Porta-Potty…a turquoise Porta-Potty.
Since Countess Punkin has been the absent target all evening, it’s time to join her at Jacques’ wine and shame party. He throws in a trick question about the color of the juice from a red grape, snaring Aviva in his trap. After the shark attack at the anniversary party, Ramona is happy to see LuAnn for a change and is trying to figure out how to catch lightning in a bottle with Heather. Pleather is first up for the blindfold game. When Heather is asked if she likes the wine, she shakes her head and looks rather displeased. LuAnn cackles up a storm. Hmmmm…wonder why?
I detect hints of motor oil…10W-40.