I’ve had fun as the SpokesMom for the EasyMop325. I was barely acting when I said my lines: “EasyMop325: Your floor will thank you.” I’m so glad the company survived the lawsuit/rebranding because the mop doesn’t rotate a full 360 degrees. And I’m grateful that the director took my note about the floor being too immaculate and added a kid’s soccer cleat mark. (My line, “Darn you, Alex! Darn you to heck!” was ad-libbed.)
But as great as this gig has been, it’s time to move on. After five years as the mom in the mop commercial, I am ready to be the mom in the vacation commercial. Send me anywhere. Please. I’m your gal.
My resume and dishpan hands showcase my extensive household commercial work. I have swooned & spooned plain yogurt. I have eliminated pet odors—and once, unfortunately, a pet—while spraying air freshener. I have scrubbed shower grout with frustration (before using Grouty) and with satisfaction (after using Grouty). I know all the vitamins in fortified cereals and can list them in the right order, which is crucial because the wrong order can spell a satanic message. I have cleaned hundreds of litter boxes even though I am allergic to cats. (You’d think they would use fake poop. They do not.) And I’ve done theater, of course.
Pick me. Help me. Free me.
I will change out of my cooking and cleaning clothes—fitted (not tight) khakis and fitted (not tight) scoop-neck sweater in jewel tones—into whatever athleisurewear the location requires. Please note that I can ride a logjam roller coaster and laugh like a good sport as the spray of bacterial amusement park water hits my face and décolletage, now displayed in a fitted (not tight) scoop-neck T-shirt.
While camping is not exactly my thing, I can rock a pair of hiking boots and shorts (not too short) and stand on a mountain peak, hands on hips, behind my “husband” and “three kids.” If you’re progressive, give me a wife and kids. I can recommend many women in commercials who want to make the leap to Vacation Mom. I will give you their names after I sign the contract.
My racial identity is nonthreatening. My jewelry is nonthreatening. My breasts are nonthreatening. I have served the cooking and cleaning commercial industry well, and I want to be the mom in the vacation commercials before I age out. Viewers should focus on Family Fun Surf Packages, not calculating how old I must’ve been when I had Alex and whether or not I did fertility.
I know how to dive. I survived a shark attack with my grandmother’s advice: bop ‘em on the nose. I memorized the Brady Bunch three-episode Hawaiian adventure, and I own a guidebook for undoing various tiki curses. A tarantula on the bed needn’t spoil a vacation, especially because I use CARP Method acting: Change Attitude, Role Player! I can reprise the line, “Darn you, Alex! Darn you to heck!” (Note: Maybe he could hit me in the face with a volleyball while I’m sunbathing?) We’ll turn it into a bit if he manages to stop crying this time. FYI, Alex the actor is not my actual kid. You do not want to hire my actual kid. Yikes.
Thank you for your consideration. While I wait for your call, I will be praying in a non-denominational way. If it means booking the job, I’ll combine mom roles and clean the rented beach house. I can do realism.