Crazy Impulse

Have you ever had a crazy, impulsive thought cross your mind? One that if implemented would get you in a world of trouble?

I had one of those today, out of the blue.

There are a lot of meeting/conference rooms located on the same floor as the spa, and we had a staff meeting scheduled in one of them this afternoon. A lady who is hawking a new skin care line was to give a demonstration/training class, and she had a boatload of products that needed to be carted to the room, so of course I volunteered to help (I'm SUCH a brown-noser!)

I think I made three trips all together, and had to pass a room where some company was having a conference. Coincidentally, they were taking a break, and two gentlemen were in the hallway chatting. The one guy wasn't even a blip on my radar, as I was mesmerized by his friend. He was a really big dude (just how I like 'em!), and had a very deep voice. He also had an eclair in one hand and was noshing on it as they spoke. By my third trip he had finished his snack, but apparently got some of the eclair filling on his thumb, and he paused to lick it off as I walked by...

I had an insane, almost overpowering urge to grab his hand and say, "Hey, let ME take care of that for you!" I really, really wanted to. But of course I just kept on going, since I also really, really need to keep my job.

*sigh*

Well, that wasn't so bad.

I'm home and I survived.

*whew*

Except for having sweaty palms the entire time, I suffered no anxiety or "block" during the test. I'm happy it's over, though.

I think I only messed up one problem, which still leaves me with an "A" if I got all the others correct. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Feeling a little queasy.

In about an hour, I'm off to algebra class where I will be taking my first test.

*GULP*

I know the material, I'm just a leetle nervous, since the last time I had math (way back in the eighties), I suffered from severe test anxiety and always bombed my exams.

I believe I'm over it, but a slight fear remains. Well, I guess I'll see, won't I?

---

In other (massage) news, I had my first client with a full-on, noticeable pup-tent pitched. What made it awkward (for me, at least) was the fact that his wife was receiving a massage less than six feet away.

My client was mostly asleep, so I don't think he realized it (I hope), and wifey had her eyes closed (thank God!).

My colleague J.A., who was massaging her, didn't notice, but he asked me afterwards why I had been staring at him during the head/neck massage!

LOL!

Duh, I didn't want to look straight ahead and see the "tent", so I had my head turned away!

---

Today I had the idea of plastic surgery made vividly unappetizing to me, in a very tangible fashion.

I massaged a lady who resembled Frankenstein's monster, at least when she was unclothed.

You know how they display those diagrams in the meat department of grocery stores, the ones that show a cow in profile with the cuts of meat delineated by dotted lines?

That's what my client looked like when I undraped her. Faded and new surgical scars outlining her butt-cheeks, encircling her body just below her waist, streaking down her thighs...ugh!

And her glutes just didn't feel normal to me, either. They felt hard, plastic, and it wasn't the skin. I don't think she had butt implants, I think they did a lift where they shortened the gluteal muscles themselves.

Hey, whatever floats her boat, I guess. But you won't see ME going under the scalpel, that's for sure!

Get your minds out of the gutter.

Right before my alarm clock rang this morning, I dreamt Phlegm Fatale asked me to marry her.

I asked, "What about your husband?"

She replied, "Oh, he won't mind!"

:)

Just a friendly little tip...

If you ever visit "Star Trek - The Experience" at the Las Vegas Hilton, be sure to go on the rides BEFORE you eat, not after.

Trust me.

You'll thank me later.

Since all the IMPORTANT folks are doing it...

But what does it MEAN?!

I really hope it's meant to be funny...

I saw a sign in the window of a local sushi joint. It said:


"We sell fresh dead fish!"


I did a double take, then kept on walking.

So sad.

The tip gods have not been smiling on me. Perhaps I have offended? Maybe I should burn more dollar bills on my altar?

Who knows, but I hope things improve. Here's an example of tip crappiness. I brought in $385 on Saturday (I get 25%), but I only made $20 all day in tips. I didn't find out until today, since B., who has the key to the tip-box, was on vacation on Saturday.

One person stiffed me, one person left me 10 dollars, and two others left me five.

*sigh*

On a more cheerful note, Silver, who is all growed-up and everything with a debit card now, actually whipped it out on Friday and paid for our dinner at Applebee's!

I made our waiter laugh with my reaction. It involved lots of hooting, cheering, and I believe even some arm-waving and fist-pumping.

I took care of the tip. (Tip karma, see?) It was a very generous one, natch, since our server was excellent.

---

Completely unrelated, but nevertheless amusing...

I thought something like this was an isolated incident of idiocy...WRONG!

I was on the phone with a lady who runs a business teaching CPR (I need to re-certify), and I just wanted to confirm the location.

Me: It's on the South-East corner of Spring Valley and Polaris, right?

Her: Well, that depends whether you're coming from the 15 or the West side of town.

Me: *mother-bleepin' idiots, when are they going to learn...what do they teach in school these days?!?!* Um, okay...

Her: If you're coming from the 15, it's on the left, if you're coming from the West side of town, it'll be on your right.

Me: *Isn't that what I just SAID?!* Okay, thanks.

Tsk, tsk EDIT: Happy Freakin' Valentine's Day!

I cut class tonight. Bad Christina, no cookie!

What the hell, I'm exhausted. We were so slammed at the spa today, we were actually overbooked and had to improvise a second side-by-side massage room in the men's spa!
(The two treatment rooms on the men's side are much larger than the ones on the women's side, don't ask me why.)

Except for my lunch break and a thirty minute window at one point this morning, I was booked back-to-back, which is why MY back hurts now and why I need a massage, myself!

But, and it's a BIG but, of course I'm thrilled that I had so much work, since I get a commission for every service I provide. So it's all money in the bank.

I decided to give myself one get-out-of-class-free card per semester. I consider it a mental health break.

So, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go soak in the tub...I deserve it!

---

EDIT
This shows just how pooped I am...I forgot to wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day!
That's why we were so busy today, duh...

You know the drill...

I'm a finalist again (yippeee) in Sparrow's weekly Haiku Contest!

So, I'm blegging here, please go to All Atwitter and vote for ME!

Unless your best friend is also a finalist, in that case...vote your conscience.

Thank you, guys!

Happy Birthday, Tucker!

A year ago today, my puppy was born.

Around April, I started looking for puppies, I did my research, found the breeder I wanted, and checked out the available pups on-line, and came across this picture...



And fell in love. The rest, as they say, is history!

For his birthday, he got his very first McDonald's hamburger, without the bun!



I tried to get his picture with the cute Valentine's Day antennae I got him, but he never stood still long enough for me to manage it, so here are two other shots from today.





Anyone who lives with dogs knows exactly how I feel about my pups, so I'm not going to blather on about how much they mean to me. I'll just say that I can't imagine life without them, and leave it at that.

---

EDIT
In case anyone is wondering, my dogs are Italian Greyhounds (you know, the little ones, not the Greyhounds that chase the electric bunny on the race track!)
Tucker is a bruiser (for his breed) and tops out at 18 pounds, Harley is average at around 13 pounds.

Hey, Moron!

I was driving home from class an hour or so ago, and the last block before home I was following a black sportscar, driving with no lights.

Let me repeat that: BLACK sportscar, driving with NO LIGHTS.

At nine o'clock at night.

I flashed this maroon several times, but he just didn't get it. Thankfully he turned into the apartment complex before mine, so at least I know he doesn't live in too close a proximity.

You ever feel like you're surrounded by idiots?

Yes, that was a rhetorical question.

:)

David questions, I answer

David over at Authorblog wants to know if any of my family members read my blog.

Well, my oldest daughter does, but usually only when I point a particular blog post out (she has her own interests, plus I usually tell her about the stuff I end up blogging about, or she was right there when it happened, so it would be boring for her).

And my big brother, who lives in North Carolina (hi, Grosser Bruder!), will occasionally stop by, but it's certainly not a regular thing.

And that's it!

Overheard at the dog park...

"Romeo, get off him!"

Yelled at a pug who was frantically humping a (male) Pomeranian.

My dream crushed again...

I was leaving class Thursday night, and I passed right by a bulletin board filled with notices, ads for cheap text books, roommate wanted signs, etc.

One notice stood out. It was a "Musicians Wanted" ad about a new heavy metal band. The music was already written, now they just needed the actual musicians and a lead singer.

As I'm reading down the list of their requirements, I'm already building fantasies in my head. I see myself on-stage, screaming out the lyrics to a writhing mass of fans, head-banging with the rest of the band, wearing spandex and torn denim. And leather, can't forget the leather.

Then I get to the very bottom of the page. "Age requirement: 24 years or younger"

Ageist bastards.

I feel old

J.A. and I were massaging a married couple in the side-by-side room yesterday. Very nice folks, I'd estimate them to be in their mid-to-late twenties, so not too much younger than me (hey! no snickers from the peanut gallery!).

I was massaging hubby, and it was his first time (gotta love the newbies). He was a very big man, in great shape, with a high-and-tight that screamed "military".

Now to (finally) get to the point. To any question I asked this man, I received a reply with a "ma'am" tacked on.

"Are you comfortable?" "Yes, Ma'am!" "How's the pressure?" "Fine, Ma'am!" "Jake, I'm going to hold the sheet now and I'd like you to turn over, okay?" "Yes, Ma'am!"

The. Whole. Time.

After the massage, I just had to ask him, "Jake, are you in the military?"

"No, Ma'am!"

Meme

Phlegm Fatale over at Fatale Abstraction has tapped me to produce answers to this bookish meme. I'm game, so here we go!

Which book do you irrationally cringe away from reading, despite seeing only positive reviews?

"The DaVinci Code" has never, ever tempted me, and some people I know, who shall remain nameless, are, shall we say, passionate about this book...
Same goes for "Message in a Bottle", "Bridges of Madison County", etc., etc.

If you could bring three characters to life for a social event (afternoon tea, a night of clubbing, perhaps a world cruise), who would they be and what would the event be?

Harry Dresden from Jim Butcher's "Dresden Files", Juan Rico from Robert A. Heinlein's "Starship Troopers", and Sophy from Georgette Heyer's "The Grand Sophy".
I'd just like to invite them over to my house for dinner and a confab, 'cause I'd want to hear, in person, all about their adventures. Then Johnnie and Sophy could leave, and I'd proceed to bang Harry Dresden like a drum. Hey, it's okay to fantasize about fictional charaters, at least in MY reality it is.

You are told you can't die until you read the most boring novel on the planet. While this immortality is great for awhile, eventually you realise it's past time to die. Which book would you expect to get you a nice grave?

This one is easy. I was a rather strange child. I felt compelled to finish every book I started, no matter how awful or boring it was. One book foiled every reading attempt, and I'll never forget it..."Algonquin, the Story of a Great Dog", by Dion Henderson. THE most boring book in the universe.

Come on, we've all been there. Which book have you pretended, or at least hinted, that you've read, when in fact you've been nowhere near it?

Beowulf. I even owned a copy for quite a while, until I decided my life would be well lived without pretension, and removed the book from my shelf.

As an addition to the last question, has there been a book that you really thought you had read, only to realise when you read a review about it/go to 'reread' it that you haven't? Which book?

Nope, but I've bought the same book on different occasions, in different locations, simply because it had been a while since I read it originally, and had forgotten all about it.

You've been appointed Book Advisor to a VIP (who's not a big reader). What's the first book you'd recommend and why? (if you feel like you'd have to know the person, go ahead of personalise the VIP.

Depending on the kind of person the VIP is, either something by Heyer, she is the most witty author; something by Heinlein, if I think the VIP can handle him; or "The Three Musketeers", since it's a classic (in case the VIP is snobbish), and a rip-snorting adventure.

A good fairy comes and grants you one wish: you will have perfect reading comprehension in the foreign language of your choice. Which language do you go with?

Ancient Greek. I'd love to read all the classics in the original!

A mischievous fairy comes and says that you must choose one book that you will reread once a year for the rest of your life (you can read other books as well). Which book would you pick?

"I Dare", by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller. Gotta love the Liaden Universe! I pretty much re-read the entire series every year, anyway.

I know that the book blogging community, and its various challenges, have pushed my reading borders. What's one bookish thing you 'discovered' from book blogging (maybe a new genre, or author, or new appreciation for cover art-anything)?

Author Charlaine Harris's "Book and Blog" feature on her website led me to discover Jim Butcher's work. What a find! So many hours of reading pleasure...

That good fairy is back for one final visit. Now, she's granting you your dream library! Describe it. Is everything leatherbound? Is it full of first edition hardcovers? Pristine trade paperbacks? Perhaps a few favourite authors have inscribed their works? Go ahead-let your imagination run free.

My dream library is a large home I live in that has books in every room. Comfy chairs and couches, good reading lamps, and lots and lots and lots of reading material and shelves everywhere. Since the good fairy is handling this, she'll make it possible for me to purchase any book I want, any time. Ah, nirvana...

That's it for me, but I'll tag a few fellow bloggers, who should in no way feel obligated to complete this meme...

Mauser*Girl
Fat Hairy Bastard
Sonja
Zelda
FarmGirl

Have at it, Folks!
(and to go along with Phlegmmy, anyone in my blogroll is more than welcome to do this one, too!)

Embarrassment at the EDR*, and Karma

*Employee Dining Room

A. and I were getting ready to eat lunch today when I humiliated myself quite thoroughly.

The dining room was packed, so I snagged a table by placing my tray on it before heading over to get a drink. A. was at the salad bar, and I was facing that way with the drink station to my left and the tables to the right. I said, "A., we're over there...", while swinging my right arm up and around to point to our table...

Yup, you guessed it. Somebody was walking right past me. It was a housekeeper (i.e. maid), and I nailed the cup of water on her lunch tray, splashing the whole thing right into her face, down the front of her uniform, and all over the floor. I wanted to die right there. But I apologized instead, even though I don't think she understood most of my babble, and helped clean up the mess. Thankfully it wasn't hot coffee, soda, or orange juice. That really would have been worse, and it was bad enough as it is.

A few minutes later karma came into play. (At least, that's what A. thinks!)

I like putting a crapload of Tabasco sauce on the fried chicken I get. It makes the EDR chicken more palatable. I guess there's Tabasco residue on the cap and the outside of the bottle, because when I rubbed my eye with my left pointer finger...YOWCH!

"Master, it burns....!"

It took the rest of my lunch hour for the burning to completely subside.

Serves me right. I obviously have to be more careful in the dining room!

Positives and Negatives.

As anyone who works in the service industries knows, you can't make everyone happy all the time. I know it's impossible, yet I always try anyway. Some people you just can't please, and, let's face it, not everyone is going to like my massage. I've learned to be philosophical about it.

Here are two examples of comment cards that clients left at the front desk.
I covered the contact information, of course.



In case you can't read it, the lady wrote: "Stress relief massage from Christina was just mediocre. She is very pokey with her fingers. But I did feel very relaxed upon completion."

I like constructive criticism, but I don't quite know what to make of being "pokey with" my fingers! Hey, and the lady was very relaxed at the end! That's better than a fork in the eyeball, right? A stress relief massage at our spa is a 25 minute shoulder, neck, and back massage, by the way.

The following lady had quite a different experience, she had a 50 minute, full body Swedish massage:



She said, if you can't make it out: "Christina was out of this world, unique and awesome Rub The Best! and quiet"

I guess the fact that I didn't babble during the massage made her happy. :)

I do recall that she told me twice that I had outstanding technique!

To me, the trick is to take something from both positive AND negative feedback, but especially not to let any negative comments get me down.

And to not take them personally, since everyone has a right to their opinion.

Worst. Music. EVER.

I've mentioned before that at the spa, we have the privilege of listening to a cable company's idea of "spa mood music", or whatever-the-hell they call it.
Most of the time it's really just background noise, most of the pieces are so familar to us by now, we really don't pay attention anymore.

Unfortunately, there is one POS in the rotation that I've been cursed to hear three times when I was right in the middle of services.

I can't even tell you what it's supposed to be. Is is from some obscure movie, and I don't get the reference? Is it a performance art piece? Who knows, but I sure wish the cable radio folks would pull their heads out of their asses and yank this "song".

Imagine this: You hear some kind of chords being played softly, perhaps by strings, perhaps by woodwinds. You erroneously think, "Well, this isn't so bad."

Not so fast, Cupcake!

Suddenly a deep-voiced man starts talking. Not singing, talking. And not rap, either. And it's in some kind of language you don't understand, but it sorta sounds like Russian. In addition, not only do you have to suffer through his monologue, but you have to listen to his breathing and SWALLOWING sounds, too. I guess he had a really, really good microphone.

Wait! What was that whooshing sound? It was your massage therapist lunging at warp speed for the volume control knob to turn that shit off.

Shamelessly Stolen

from Zelda

In 1970 (the year you were born)

Richard Nixon is president of the US A federal jury finds the "Chicago 7" innocent of conspiring to incite riots during the 1968 Democratic National Convention The lunar spacecraft Apollo 13 splashes down in the Pacific after near catastrophe The first Earth Day is marked by millions of Americans participating in anti-pollution demonstrations At Kent State University, National Guardsmen fire into a crowd killing four student antiwar demonstrators A powerful earthquake claims 50,000 lives in Peru 18 year olds are given the right to vote in federal elections Tidal wave driven by cyclone from Bay of Bengal hits East Pakistan, killing hundreds of thousands An anti-war rally is held at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, attended by John Kerry, Jane Fonda and Donald Sutherland Queen Latifah, Mariah Carey, Andre Agassi, Uma Thurman, Jennifer Lopez, and Matt Damon are born Baltimore Orioles win the World Series Kansas City Chiefs win Superbowl IV Boston Bruins win the Stanley Cup Tearjerker Love Story is the top grossing film I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou is published "The Long and Winding Road" becomes the Beatles' last Number 1 song

What Happened the Year You Were Born?

Because I'm tired and honestly don't feel like fleshing out any of the blog post ideas I have jotted down...maybe tomorrow!

I love college.

Why?

About an hour or so into class tonight, the Prof said, "Well, that's my lecture. If you have any questions, please stay. If you don't, you may go."

I was outta there so fast, I trampled a few of my classmates on the way.

That's okay, they'll recover.

---

Two amusing vanity plates seen today:

MMMMWAH

and:

UID10T

LOL

My first service of the day was a 50 minute hot stone massage bright and early at 8:00 AM. The client had never had a hot stone massage before, so I asked her about sensitivity to heat and whether she had any artificial joints. I asked because, believe it or not, the stones are so hot they have been known to melt some of the components of artificial joints...

Client: Nope, don't have any artificial joints.

Me: That's good, because the hot stones could melt them.

C: *gasp* Will they melt my breast implants?!!

Me: *blink blink* Don't worry...I won't be going anywhere near your breasts!

C: *heaves huge sigh of relief*

Cloverfield

Silver and I saw "Cloverfield" last night, and I'm happy to report I didn't get motion sickness. Yay, me.

FWIW, the movie kicks ass, and there're even some funny bits, which I wasn't expecting.

No spoilers here, so I'll just say that if you like that kind of movie, you'll probably enjoy "Cloverfield".

Client Quick Takes

Just a few quickies, since I realize I haven't blogged much about massage except for the "wrong-name" incident the other day.

I massaged a lady a few days ago who warned me that really dry skin ran in her family. She wasn't kidding, either!

Her skin wasn't flaky, just very, very rough. Over her entire body. I've never experienced anything like it. I felt bad for her, and she said that no matter how much water she drinks or lotion she applies, her skin is always like that.

The texture was like that of those really cheap fast-food napkins. At least my hands were nicely exfoliated by the end of the massage!

She was also one of those "massage therapist=expert-about-everything" clients.

Her: Every day when I wake up, the soles of my feet are very stiff and painful. My doctor says it's arthritis...what do YOU think it might be?

Me: WTF, Woman?!

No, not really!

Me: Um, I dunno...maybe it's ARTHRITIS, like your doctor says?!

The odd thing was, my next client had skin like buttah! Very smooth and nice to the touch.

---

I also did a hot stone massage on a lady yesterday, of course I burnt the crap out of my hands, as always, and when I asked her how she was doing after I turned her over onto her back (I always ask), she said, "I feel like a Gumby!"

I'll take that as a compliment! And I'll take her snoring as such, too.

---

Today was my day for no-zones, I guess.

First I massaged a gentleman with a torn quadriceps muscle (I didn't ask him which one!), then I massaged a lady with severe varicose veins in both calves. You never, ever massage over varicose veins, EVER. Spider veins are no problem, but if you massage over varicose veins you run the risk of dislodging a clot, which could lead to all sorts of nasty outcomes, like pulmonary emboli or strokes!

So for the guy, I just completely avoided his quads on that leg, and for the lady, I did feathering (very light, gliding touch of the fingertips along the skin) on the affected area.

Sometimes, you just have to work around things.

Another thing I want to add about this.The second client was a massage newbie, always a pleasure, but when it came time for her to turn over onto her back, she let out a rather large *toot*. She apologized profusely, and I told her (and meant it) that it was no problem at all.

Why am I even mentioning this?

Because I want everyone to know that flatulence is OKAY. It's natural, and massage stimulates so many systems in the body that flatulence is fairly common. So don't feel self-conscious if you let one slip (or rip!). Your therapist will take it in stride, I guarantee it.

---

Yesterday, I had a side-by-side massage with J.H., one of our male therapists.
We're running a special til the end of the month on side-by-side massages, so we're getting a lot of people scheduling them who would normally have a massage alone.

In this case, two female friends were taking advantage of the 20%-off deal.
The unusual part was that J.H.'s client insisted on only getting her back and shoulders massaged, for 50 minutes! So I was doing a full body massage on her friend, about three feet away, and the whole time my client kept saying, "Oh, Jennifer, you don't know what you're missing! You really should get your *insert body part here* massaged!" Or later, "Mmmm, what's that...?"
(I had put a rolled-up hot towel under her neck after I flipped her over)
"Oh, Jennifer this feels sooo gooooood!"

All the while her friend was just trying to enjoy the massage her own way.

I felt like telling her to give it a rest already. I mean, maybe her friend has a good reason not to get a full-body massage. Maybe she's shy, or has been traumatized in some way. How do we know?

What a P.I.T.A my client was, and not a good friend in this situation, as far as I'm concerned.

w00t!!

I won, I won, I won, I won!

And I owe it all to you, my friends.

Thank you so much, I never win anything.

Guess I can't say that anymore, heh.

Have a great weekend!

The Monte Carlo is Burning.

But I'm not fiddling.

Don't worry, I don't work there. A bunch of us spa folk did grab our jackets and run outside to the Strip, and we could see the huge plumes of black and white smoke filling the southern sky.

The flames weren't visible from our vantage point, and this was maybe only half-an-hour after the fire was first reported.

Ow

So, I got braces yesterday.



I feel like Ugly Betty, only not as cute.

I've been living off oatmeal and mashed potatoes, but the pain is slowly fading, or else I'm getting used to it. So bring on the cheeseburgers!

Shameless Blegging...

It's crunch time, Folks. Time to step up to the plate. Time to lock and load. Time to pull up your big girl/big boy panties. And any other cliche you can think of!

I'm finally a finalist again in Sparrow's weekly Haiku contest at All Atwitter.

So, please, PLEASE, go, vote, and make me number ONE.

I'd be ever so happy, and ever so grateful!

Thank you in advance, you guys ROCK.

No longer "made of fail"!

I just got back from my first algebra class. It's been over twenty years since I had math, but it was so easy! So far, so good. I was surprised that we didn't have a little meet'n'greet at the beginning of class, but the professor didn't even introduce herself, much less ask the students' names! She didn't even write her name on the white board, just handed out the syllabi and jumped right in. Eh, it works for me, I'm not there to socialize, I'm there to learn.

Something happened on my way to school that flabbergasted me. I was waiting at an intersection and the guy in the car next to me decided not to wait any longer to continue on his journey. He inched forward to make sure everything was clear and then zoomed across six lanes, against the light. What an idiot! Too bad there were no cops around.

---

I received some bad news today. I had been planning on being a surrogate one last time, since I AM getting up there in years, at least where pregnancy is concerned, and the coordinator from the agency I used before shot me down. I developed gestational diabetes during the last pregnancy, mainly because I was carrying twins, and I guess the treatment was just too cost-prohibitive for them to risk another pregnancy with me. I have to admit I'm very disappointed. I'd gotten all revved up, ready to go again, and now have to completely rearrange all my plans. I'm going to see if a friend of mine still wants me to have his baby (I know that sounds bad!), but if that's a no-go, I guess I'm done.

I am made of Fail

Today, for the first time ever, I called a client by the wrong name.

Granted, that's not quite as awkward as calling out the wrong name in the throes of passion, but still embarrassing.

In my defense, I corrected myself immediately, and the guest didn't appear to even care that I briefly called him "Mike" instead of "Jim", but the humiliation lingers in my mind.

I'm just like that. Why can't I replay my triumphs over and over again, instead of my foot-in-mouth moments?

I don't know, but I wish I could change it.

When life hands you lemons...

Sometimes, the only thought that gets me through the day is, "When I get home, I can blog about this!" So everything bad that happens turns into blog-fodder.

Also, sometimes I think karma is a bitch.

Take today, for example. There I was, minding my own business, futzing around in my jammies, perusing a site I discovered this morning. Good stuff, by the way, you really should check it out. AFTER you read this, of course.

Have pretty decent plans for the rest of the day. Take Silver to her allergist for her weekly shots, take dogs with us, since the super-awesome-ginormous dog park is just a few blocks away from the doc's. After that, take exhausted doggies home and head out to see "Cloverfield", since Silver is obsessed by it. Should be fun, right?

Maybe I shouldn't have almost gloated in my last post about the fact that I have today off.

My phone rang, and it was my boss, who proceeded to beg and grovel piteously for me to come in to work, Please, Christina, please, it's an emergency, you're my last hope...! I could practically hear the violins in the background.

But did he need another therapist, because everyone else was booked? Oh, nooooo he needed me to man the reception desk and close the spa. Oh, fun.

And I hadn't even showered yet (I told you, that's a damn good website I found!)

So I raced around getting ready, poor pups went in their pen, and Silver and I hit the road. Yes, I took her with me! She still had to get her shots, dammit. So all the way up North to her doctor, then all the way across town to the Strip, all on the surface streets since I'd heard that I15 was shut down for some reason.

Finally clocked in, and reacquainted myself with the front desk procedures. It all came back to me with horrifying rapidity, and after all the hard work I'd put in trying to forget I'd ever even worked the front desk, too!

There outta be a law.

In any case, "Cloverfield" was out, but we did make it home in time to watch "American Gladiators", so all was not lost.

There I go again, making lemonade!

Oh, well, as someone or other once said, tomorrow is another day. (Was it Scarlett?)

Bored.

No, not me...YOU!

Actually, I'm bored, too, since I have nothing to blog about. Maybe this coming week will be more interesting, since two things are happening that should be good for at least a few posts. I can almost hear you panting in anticipation, as well you should!

Enjoy your respective Mondays...it's MY Sunday, yay! Those of you who have the day off due to the Holiday...enjoy it more!

*Cue Twilight Zone Theme*...

All day at work yesterday, the chorus from this song was playing on continuous loop in my head. I don't like this song very much. At all.



When I got in my car to head home, I turned on the radio. Three guesses as to which song was playing at that exact moment...and the first two don't count.

Public Service Announcement #4,378

I am a Massage Therapist. Yes, I'm licensed and nationally certified. I'm prohibited from diagnosing OR treating any illness or ailment, it is outside of my scope of practice (yes, even massage therapists have a scope of practice).

If you have something bothering you besides a minor ache or pain, and you want to know what's going on, visit a doctor or chiropractor, that's their job.

Also, I'm NOT St. Christina of the Healing Hands. Don't ask me, after a 50 minute service, twenty of which I spent massaging your back, if I "got rid of" all the knots in your back. I do not perform miracles. How long did it take to GET those knots? Do you still do the same repetitive motions that put the knots there? See where I'm going with this? I can certainly help in the limited time I have, but you need to reassess how you do your work/which sports you do/your posture, AND have regular and frequent massage if you want to "get rid of" all the knots.

Thank you.

This has been a public service announcement from your local massage therapist.

Teen-age strangeness

Since it's my day off and I wasn't doing anything anyway, I picked Silver up from school today. I told her to meet me at the office, since I had to update some contact information. While I was standing at the counter with Silver, filling out the form, a boy walked up to her and started talking. It was almost an ambush, and he asked an odd question, "Do you hate your grandparents?"

I was thinking, WTF?

Silver returned monosyllabic answers, but he didn't or wouldn't take the hint and kept up his bombardment of randomness, Are you turning 16 or 17 this year?, Is this your Mom?, etc.

Silver literally turned away from the boy and finally the secretary shooed him away, since he was obviously distracting ME! I even put my first name in the space for "student's first name" and had to start the whole form over again.

While we were (finally) walking toward the car, I told Silver that I thought she'd been really mean to the boy, so stand-offish, since I was surprised due to the fact that she's usually super-friendly to everyone. She replied that the boy always got on her nerves, even going so far as to pester her for a Christmas present. She explained that everyone thinks she's so nice, but look out if you piss her off:

"I appear to be a nicely-wrapped candy, but if you take a bite, I taste horrible!"

Teenagers are weird.

Meme

All the big kids are doing an album cover meme, and I wanna play!

So, since I don't have a working paint program, or anything similar, I have to do the poor-blogger version of it.

My band's name is "Aratiba" and the album is titled "Indispensible to Each Other"...

And here's the album cover:



Even Silver couldn't help me with this one (or she didn't want to!).

H/T to Breda

Well, isn't THAT special...?!

If you google "flesh eating shroom", my blog is the only thing that pops up.



It's not as hott as "horrible screaming death", but I'll take it!

This one's for you, Chuck

Well, I cave to the pressure, so here are some pics from work.

Here's the infamous side-by-side room, where another therapist and I can massage two people at the same time:



See the white roaster-looking thing in the background on the right? That's where some river stones are cooking in case we get a hot-stone massage.

Behind this door is no-man's land, literally:



It's the back door to the women's spa, which we hustle (female) guests through to avoid leading them through the gym while they're wearing robes.

Here is my second favorite place in the women's spa, the jacuzzi (I like the steam room the best):



It's where Silver spent most of Christmas morning, lucky thing!

Finally, here's a typical massage treatment room, this one happens to be in the women's spa. Basically, if a female therapist is massaging a female client, it will be in one of these rooms.



Not very much space, right? Throw "proper body mechanics" out the window, sometimes you have to be a contortionist to do the massage!

Bored yet? Well, I'm done anyway. I couldn't risk taking pictures that might identify the spa, though of course anyone who's BEEN to this spa will recognize it!

Have a great weekend, Folks...I know I will!

Damn Dogs!

Or rather, damn, stupid Christina for leaving her glasses where the puppies could get them...AGAIN! Just for two minutes while brushing my teeth, while the dogs were peacefully sleeping...I thought.

Here's the result:





And just so you don't leave with that vision of horror, here's the dog park we go to every Sunday. Silver took this pic since she was enchanted by the way the sun illuminated the clouds:

Just a LEETLE stress.

Except for a little stress due to the registrar's office listing me as a non-resident, I've got nothing to blog about.

Work has been slow, though I've got quite a few services on the books tomorrow, thankfully.

No wacky or otherwise interesting clients.

Nothing going on at home.

*yawn*

I think I'll call this post a bust.

'Night, Folks.

Somebody's pissed off...

Severed Finger Mailed to French Minister


Jan 7, 8:02 PM (ET)


PARIS (AP) - France's justice minister wants to know why someone sent her a severed finger in the mail, a ministry spokesman said Monday.

A package, containing the finger and a letter addressed to Justice Minister Rachida Dati, was opened by the ministry's mail service after it was received Friday, spokesman Guillaume Didier said. He gave no information about what the letter said.

"The minister asked her services to look into this person's situation, to see what could have driven him or her to carry out this act," he said.

Didier said he could not confirm a report in regional daily Ouest France, which said the sender was a former hair-salon owner in western France with business and legal problems, who had cut off part of his own finger and sent it to Dati. Ouest France did not give a source for the information.


So...was it a middle finger?

I forgot one thing.

I forgot to mention that I have a guilty secret, but I'll tell YOU!

It's not like potentially millions of total strangers have access to...oh, wait.

Anyway, here's my secret...

I watched American Gladiators last night. AND I'm planning on watching it again tonight.

Whew, I'm glad I got that off my chest.

Observed today...

as I was driving up Torrey Pines toward the college, through an older neighborhood of houses with actual yards, a billy goat.

A white billy goat, complete with horns, hooves, and a beard.

My jaw dropped, and it was a good thing there was no other traffic on the road at that time, or I might have caused a collision.

The weird thing was, the goat didn't appear to be restrained in any way, nor was the front yard completely fenced. It was just calmly grazing at the grass.

I wonder what the laws are regarding the keeping of barnyard animals?

---

Also seen today during my travels:

A bumper sticker reading:

Your kid may be an honor student, but your driving still sucks!

And a bumper sticker reading:

Excuse me, which circle of hell is this?

Disturbed

I dreamed last night that I was at my 20th High School Reunion (which is this year), and everyone there, male and female, looked like 20-year-old supermodels.

Except me.

I also dreamed that my ex-husband, his wife, and MY kids were living with MY mother (who died in 1995), and that my kids' stepmom was the daughter my mother always dreamed of having.

I'm glad I woke up.

Slooooooow...(with a minor edit)

It's been very, very slow this week at the spa, with the previously noted exception of New Year's Day.

I had seven services on Tuesday, four on Wednesday, two on Thursday, and only one yesterday (Friday). Yes, I know it's technically Sunday already, but I haven't been to sleep yet so it's still Saturday as far as I'm concerned. Work with me here!

It was so slow in fact, that our boss sent everyone except two therapists and one aesthetician home at 11:30 AM today.

I had two services today, but they were only chair massages. The problem with chair massages is that they're just not worth it to the therapist.

Let me break it down.

If I have a regular, $60 half-hour service, I work 25 minutes and make $15 commission.

If I do two, 15 minute chair massages (at $1 a minute), I work the full 30 minutes and I only make $7.50 commission. Plus, chair massage is hard work! I can't do any gliding strokes, since the client is fully clothed. It's all compressions and petrissage (the kneading strokes where I use my hands a LOT). So I'm pooped but don't make enough money to really make it worthwhile.

Anytime I start thinking about working conventions doing chair massage all day (where you can really make shitloads of money), I remember how tired I am, and how much my hands hurt after doing just a few minutes, and I change my mind!

My clients were actually in their jammies and slippers, which made the whole experience interesting. Naturally they didn't tip me, but I wasn't surprised...
the IDIOT (male) spa attendant, J., asked the one client if she were pregnant! What moron involved in any kind of service or customer service industry would ask a woman that unless she's wearing a t-shirt that says "Baby on Board", or "Bun in the Oven" with a big arrow pointing down?

Sad. Too sad.

Thankfully the International Consumer Electronics Show starts on Monday, we should get plenty of business from the conventioneers and their spouses.

But I won't hold my breath.

---

*EDIT*

After reading Phlegm's comment, I realized I hadn't made it clear that the client was NOT pregnant. So, I state for the record, J. was an idiot who asked a chubby, NOT pregnant, woman whether she was indeed pregnant, causing her to be justifiably pissed off.

Thank you!

Thanks to everyone who voted for me at All Atwitter!
I actually tied for second place, that's the best result I've ever had! Really, I'm just happy to even make the final cut, everyone's haikus are excellent.

So, every Tuesday after midnight EST, head over to All Atwitter and join in the haiku madness! Sparrow does an outstanding job with this contest, and my hat's off to her.

If you do write a haiku, I'll even give you permission to vote for your own entry, instead of mine.

I'm just that kind of person.

New Year's Resolutions 2008

From now on, I resolve to always draft my blog posts in Notepad first. That way I can avoid the frustration of having my posts vanish mysteriously during publishing.

I had written a nifty post about a lady with a hot bod who insisted on prancing about the spa nekkid, but I really don't feel like recreating the whole thing.

So just use your imaginations.

I also resolve to take better care of myself when doing hot stone massages. Yes, it feels great to the client when the stones are really, really hot, but I don't have to practically give myself first-degree burns on the palms of my hands to do a good job.

---

Today I only had two massages, one at 9:30 AM and the other at 3:00 PM. Talk about a day that drags and drags and drags...well, you get the idea!

The lady in the morning would have benefited from a shower. She was super nice and we chatted during the entire massage, but she smelled.

Turns out she literally rolled out of bed, saw her companions were still sleeping, and decided to head over to the spa to see if we had any openings.

Before the massage was scheduled to begin, she had half-an-hour to shower, but she just threw on her robe, sat in the lounge area, and talked on her cell phone.

She reeked of sweat and smoke from the casino, and I could tell while doing the scalp massage I was dealing with yesterday's hairspray.

After the massage she headed into the jacuzzi, THEN she took a shower and did the typical grooming stuff.

Ugh.

---

When I headed to the front desk to pick up the ticket for my three o'clock, I was greeted by three extremely excited young women.

"Oh my God! Christina, you won't believe how hot this guy is!"

"His eyes, his smile...!"

"He's totally built, you're so lucky!"

Etc., etc., ad nauseam.

After I retrieved my client from the men's spa and escorted him to the treatment room, I had a moment while he was situating himself on the table to run up front to tell the girls one thing...

"Oh, puh - LEAZE."

I guess what you find hot at 21 differs substantially from what you find hot at 37!

Thank GOD.

Vote for ME!

Sparrow says it's okay, so I'm totally, shamelessly begging for your vote.

Go here and vote for me.

You know you want to...

Too pissed off.

Too pissed off to write now. Blogger ate my post. Fuck it.

Happy New Year!

My year started off with a bang...back-to-back-to-back-to-back (etc., etc.) massages!
I'm exhausted but it's sooooo worth it, considering how slow business has been since Thanksgiving.

Naturally many of the clients were hungover, but I didn't get puked on, so all is well. My eight o'clock client showed up late (of course), I'm just happy she made it in at all!

I was amazed at how many people were hitting the gym early in the morning. Wonder if they'll still be so dedicated in a week or two...

Our spa attendant for the women's spa called in sick today.

I know I should give her the benefit of the doubt, but does she seriously think anyone at work believes her?!

If you know you have to be at work at 8:00 AM on New Year's Day, don't party like a rock star on New Year's Eve!

I surprised myself by staying up until 1:00 AM last night, though going to sleep earlier would have been futile anyway...the fireworks drove my dogs into a brief, but very violent and vocal frenzy. Who knew? They didn't react like this on Independence Day!

Maybe the fireworks weren't so loud then.

Anyway, I want to wish all my faithful readers, even the ones who DON'T leave comments (you know who you are!) a wonderful, prosperous, and healthy 2008. May every succeeding year only get better, because you all deserve it.

Can't get it out of my head

The current song on continuous play inside my noggin:

"Empty Walls", by Serj Tankian of System of a Down fame.

I just saw the video for the first time and am equally creeped out and blown away by it.



Anyone who can come up with lyrics like these, and sing them repeatedly without getting his tongue tangled, totally ROCKS:

Don't you see their bodies burning
desolate and full of yearning
dying of anticipation
choking from intoxication

I also love this little tidbit that he sings in the background toward the end of the song:

I loved you yesterday, before you killed my family...

He does all the vocals himself on this song.

Incredible. Superglued inside my brain.

Wow.

Just drinking my coffee and checking out my SiteMeter report, and already I've come across some weird Google searches:

gluteal cleft massage

Come on now, I TOLD you that's a no-no!

spanking home coming

I really don't want to know.

massage tales

Somehow I have the feeling that the kind of stories I tell aren't the ones this person is looking for...

nice mom

Awwwwww. Thanks!

bjork sucks

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!! This search popped up FOUR TIMES.

massage breast bolster

I don't know how much MY blog can help you with that one...

milky mamas

???

lucrative pain

From the location, I know this was my big brother, who I guess didn't want to ask me for the url...

I LOVE SiteMeter.

Only my daughter...

could look at me calmly from across the table at our favorite Chinese restaurant and say:

"I need some evil minions."

One thing you definitely don't want to hear...

after you ask your client how he's doing today (and he's already on the table), "Hungover!"

Crap.

Karma?

I must have done something right, because not only was there a check from my Dad in the mailbox today (and let it be known that my Dad is, shall we say, frugal), but there was also a notice stuck in my door from the apartment management, stating I had a credit on my account and should subtract $85.00 from January's rent!

I have no idea what credit they are referring to, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. My name was on the letter and everything!

Now I don't have to sweat this semester's tuition! Yay! I can enroll in the two classes I need to take.

What a relief.

Christmas Day

I hope all of you had a lovely Christmas!

I had to work from 8 to 1 on Christmas Day, but I was sneaky. I exploited a loophole, booked my daughter an eyebrow waxing at 8, and was able to take her to work with me. See, having a service entitles the guest to the use of the facilities at the spa for the entire day, so Silver got to sit in the jacuzzi and chill while I was busting my ass doing massages.

Yup, for some bizarre reason it was actually busy, a rare occurrence at this time of year, according to the "oldtimers" at the spa.

After work, we went straight to the Rio, to the Carnival World Buffet, our favorite, for Christmas dinner. It's never made sense to me to cook the whole holiday meal for two people.

We had to wait for about an hour-an-a-half just to get in, but boy, was it worth it!
Of course, being me, we had a nifty little bottle of hand sanitizer on our table and used it religiously. Some of the other patrons grossed me out!

After getting home, and taking naps, glorious naps, we played MapleStory, a free on-line MMORPG. Silver convinced me to create a character, and now we go bravely forth, together, to slay cartoon snails and cute, but deadly mushrooms.

All in all, a very fun Christmas!

A (Sad) Sign of our Times...

I didn't know it was for sale.

On my way home from work today...

I saw a man pissing on the side of a dumpster.

Such are the joys of my life.

Also, just as I was getting into my blog-reading, two Mormon Missionaries appeared at my door.

Silver concurs with me that I was extremely polite, but I did tell them that I couldn't talk with them about religion because I didn't want to get REALLY ANGRY.

They get bonus points for admiring my dogs.

5 Worst Ways to Wake Up

1. Alarm clock

2. Banging/slamming drawers, cupboards, microwave doors, etc.

3. Being licked on my inner thigh...BY MY DOG (eeewwww)

4. Being licked on my face (b.m.d.)

5. Being licked anywhere else (b.m.d.)

"Breakroom Conversations" or "Christina is Weird!"

A few days ago G., the lead aesthetician at the spa, celebrated her birthday.

My colleague B. brought in a delicious cake and we performed the obligatory serenade before scarfing down the goodies.

One of us asked, "Anybody got milk?"

B., mother of an infant and currently breastfeeding, jokingly raised her hand, causing all of us to start laughing.

I was staring at B., a bizarre thought in my head, and she caught me at it.

Busted!

B.: What?!

Me: Oh, it's nothing, really!

B.: Seriously, what's going on?

Me: Well, I was just wondering...if a lactating woman were stranded on a desert island, how long could she survive by living off of her own breast milk...?

B.: You're weird, you know that? You read too much!
(Implying, I suppose, that all the fiction I read makes my imagination go wild.)

Me(thinking): *That's not possible. There's no such thing as reading too much.*

Hmmm, let me see...the answer is NO!!!

Had a lady come in with her mom today for a side-by-side massage.

They were of foreign extraction, though I'm not sure of the flavor.

She proceeded to tell the front desk people, loudly and with other guests present, that she was having her period.

Why, you ask? Because she was of the opinion she should get a longer massage AT NO EXTRA CHARGE because she wasn't able to use the facilities (the jacuzzi, sauna, and steam room) due to being on the rag.

Excuse me, Lady, but how is it OUR problem that you're riding the menstrual train?

Ever heard of tampons?

Needless to say we denied her request, but the massage went very smoothly regardless.

She was very happy with the service and actually tipped me SIX WHOLE DOLLARS!!! (/sarcasm)

Bring it...

28


H/T to AD

Client Vignettes

I really love my job. One of the best parts about it is all the wonderful, interesting people I meet.

Many of my clients don't say a word during the massage, and that's fine! I just let my mind wander, and it's almost like a mini-nap, very refreshing.

But when the client and I get to chatting, that's when it gets interesting.

In no particular order, here's a run-down of some of my clients over the past week or two:

- the Paris Hilton look-alike. I have to say that I immediately jumped to certain conclusions about her, which she proceeded to demolish. Bad Christina, no cookie for you! She was extremely friendly and personable, and a very good tipper (always a bonus).

- the ER doc from Colorado, who commutes to a hospital in Oklahoma. He spends his spare time ridding Oklahoma of feral pigs, which are apparently a plague, since they breed like rabbits and have no predator besides man.
He also bow-hunts and cooks for the nurses and other staff at the ER. What was remarkable about him was the absence of the notorious "doctor's ego"; as a matter of fact he told me that he didn't hang out with other doctors for just that reason. A really down-to-earth gentleman.

- the Education professor from Arkansas, who just lost her husband a few months ago.
"I teach others how to teach," is how she put it. Sometimes I feel like a hairdresser, considering the things people tell me, a total stranger! She talked and talked about her late husband, who just dropped dead with no warning signs whatsoever.

- the naive pharmaceutical rep from Pennsylvania, married with four children, who asked me, "Are the girls in the back of the truck?" while referring to these, seen everywhere on the Strip and in its vicinity.

And my personal fave:

- the 25-year-old farrier from Michigan, who was raised Amish, decided it wasn't for him, started his own business at 19, and now has to refuse new clients because he's too busy. He also dreams of going pro as a calf-roper and bull-rider. I googled his name and found some of his local stats. Cool. When he's famous, I'll squee like a fangirl and ask him if he needs a personal full-time massage therapist!

---

As much as I bitch about clients leaving their underwear on, I never thought I'd see a woman who left her BRA on! What an idiot! J., who was her therapist during the side-by-side massage (I was massaging hubby, who had ALL his clothes off, thankyouverymuch), had to ask her politely to remove the bra.

I also massaged a gentleman with an invisible ass. Seriously, this man was completely flat from shoulders to feet. Baby did NOT have back! It was just kinda odd, and threw me off a little.

Bjork sucks.

After we had dinner at the Rio, we headed across the street to the Palms, one of only two casinos we go to to watch movies.

Fandango tickets in hand, we had plenty of time before the movie was scheduled to begin.

UNFORTUNATELY, Bjork is having a concert tonight at the Pearl theater at the Palms.

Which means we couldn't find parking. At all.

We left without seeing Will Smith's rippling, naked muscles on the big screen.

That's truly a sacrifice.

Now I can only hope that they honor the tickets tomorrow when we go to the afternoon show...

Etiquette Question

So, my dear readers, I have a question for you. Mainly for the Texicans out there (and anyone else who lives in a place where cowboy hats are popular).

Is it considered de rigueur to keep one's hat on one's head when eating in a restaurant?

Silver and I were at the Carnival World Buffet at the Rio this evening, which is touted as Las Vegas' largest, and there was a veritable sea of hats-on-heads visible.

I've mentioned a time or two (or three, or four...) that I have a liking for cowboys, which goes into overdrive during NFR every year. I'd hate to have my illusions (and fantasies!) shattered due to bad manners!

I'm waiting to be educated. Thanks.

More Pissed-offness...

at Silver's Pep band performance (aka "Varsity Basketball Game").

Here's Silver night before last at her symphonic orchestra concert (yes, that's a new hair color, yet again!):



And here she is last night at the basketball game:



I have a new pet peeve, if you will, to add to all the assholes who aggravated me at the concert the other night.

Obnoxious parents at high school sporting events.

I wanted to either put a bullet in my brain, or tear off my ears and stuff them in this dude's mouth, to shut him the hell up.

I wish someone would explain to him that screaming/chanting, "Defense - Defense - Defense - Defense!", or my favorite, "MORE Defense - MORE Defense - MORE Defense - MORE Defense!" for the entire duration of the game does not add anything to ANYONE'S experience of said game.

Not to mention potentially distracting the players, instead of "inspiring" them.

Of course, he mixed in, "Offense - Offense - Offense - Offense!" whenever our team had the ball.

He only stopped during timeouts.

I was never more glad for the sheer volume the band produces indoors, 'cause they were the only thing that drowned him out (briefly).

I feel like I'm surrounded by idiots.

Homicidal Rage

What the fuck is up with people today?

Since when is it okay to read a gossip rag IN THE MIDDLE OF A SCHOOL CONCERT?

I don't care if your Mom made you go and you couldn't give two shits about your dorky little sister's cello playing, you'd better show some respect.

The same goes for the assholes text messaging, talking, and eating.

I could feel the enamel on my back molars disintegrating under the pressure of the grinding and clenching I was subjecting them to. I visualized several scenarios where I would look like an ass, like jumping up and screaming, "Shut the FUCK UP! They're trying to PLAY here!"

Alas, that gratification shall remain fantasy.

But at least I have this blog.

The worst offenders were the couple whose son was a violinist in the advanced orchestra.

The mom spent the whole concert catching her son's performance on video, all the while completely ignoring her rampaging toddlers.

The "little darlings" scampered between the rows and in the aisles, the folding seats always hitting the seat backs with a bang! every time they got up. Also the one girl was shlepping a big bottle of gatorade around, except for when she repeatedly dropped it, causing a loud thump! followed by rumbling as it rolled downhill toward the stage, which both little girls found highly amusing. I wanted to smack the parents, constantly and soundly.

Hubby/Daddy just sat there, two rows behind them, like a lump, occasionally miming, "shhhhhh!", with his finger to his lips, causing the one fruit of his loins to mimic him by whistling like a steam kettle during a particularly touching orchestral movement.

Next time get abuela to watch the brats, okay? (Was that racist? Oh, well.)
It's not like the three-year-olds appreciated the cultural enrichment the parents were providing them, or that they would remember watching and listening to their brother play, anyway!

And who the hell dresses fraternal twins in matching, ugly and ratty pink sweat suits for a fucking concert, anyway?

Which leads me to also rant about appropriate dress. If the boys and girls on stage can wear tuxedos and formal gowns, respectively, why the hell are the audience members in jeans and sweats? Fucktards.

One concert down and one to go, plus about five more pepband performances to watch at the basketball games.

Oh, joy.

Fun

So far, my weekend has been non-catastrophic. That's good!

I took a "nap" that lasted until 3PM, with my pups providing extra warmth (my feet were cold).

Then Silver and I packed up and headed to the Palms. We had dinner at the Bistro Buffet (which really isn't all that special). Highlight there: A gal with a t-shirt bearing the slogan "I beat my boyfriend at Guitar Hero!"

That was amusing, at least to me.

Then we saw "The Golden Compass" at Brenden Theatres. Awesome, awesome movie. I don't know what crawled up the critics' collective ass, but I thought the movie people did a good job of translating the book to the screen. Didn't butcher it too much. Considering that the author of the trilogy, Philip Pullman, wrote the screenplay, that's not too surprising. Dakota Blue Richards, the girl who plays Lyra, did an outstanding job with the role.

That's it as far as reviewing goes, 'cause (as I've mentioned before), I really, really suck at writing reviews. I know when I like something, and when I don't, but don't ask me to explain why. I'll get Silver to write one, maybe, then I can link to it, since she LOVES writing reviews and critiques and is good at it, too.

That's my Sunday report, hope you all are having fun!

Drama

As a massage therapist there are many avenues of employment open to me. I chose the spa setting because I wanted a relaxing workplace environment, one where stress stays far, far away.

I guess I shoulda read the fine print, or something.

First off, the fact that business has been glacier slow has everyone at each other's throats. Needless to say everyone's paychecks have been affected, too.

Then there was the lovely scene we had on Wednesday, where six security guards, a mix of uniformed and plainclothes, arrived to "escort" two spa employees off the property.

So long! Have a nice life!

And if anyone knows what was going on, they're not talking. Which means the gossip-mill is running overtime.

The only info we got was a memo Thursday morning, informing the spa staff that Ms.C. and Mr.A had "resigned their positions", yeah right!

To cap it all off, like the cherry on top of a shit sundae, I had to refuse a service yesterday on a lady who was four weeks pregnant (hotel policy - NO massage whatsoever during the first trimester, and this lady hadn't even seen her OB yet). Since SHE couldn't get a massage, her two friends who were booked with other therapists cancelled, too.

Ms. Popularity I ain't at the moment, though really my colleagues were very cool about it.

Outside of the spa, I've had drama galore, too. Wednesday on my way to work a guy was furiously honking at me, until I dared to roll my window down to see what was up.

Turns out my brake lights weren't working. Great. I got out of work early (it's slow, remember?) and headed over to my mechanic. They had to practically take my car apart to figure out where the burnt-out switch was ('cause of course it couldn't be something as simple as a mere light-bulb replacement), and the new switch wasn't available from the dealership until Thursday morning. There goes my Christmas money.
Plus I had to walk home from the auto-shop AND walk back the next day to pick my car up. And I was late to work, too. Of course.

Let's not forget the little tid-bit about my dogs eating my glasses. Well, almost. They did chew them up and eat the nose pieces and temples. That was Wednesday night.

Then there was the necessity of taking one of my pups to the vet. Why? Because the little shit blows himself so much his doggie pecker got stuck in the "out" position!
After two days of exposure I figured I'd better get him checked out. Now I'm in the unique position of having to use "personal lubricant" on my dog's wang if it gets stuck again, oh joy. Hey, wouldn't some people pay money for pics of that? If it's YOU, I really don't want to know...

Hope you guys are having a great weekend.

I'm not going to curse myself by saying that my weekend couldn't be any worse than the week leading up to it.

Oh, shit, too late.

*UPDATE*
Forgot to mention the fact that I jacked-up my right thumb today, too. Which makes massaging people just a wee bit difficult. Not to mention typing. A bag of frozen peas is calling my name, c-ya...

Wha?

Excuse me, but I call bullshit.

Taken from the KLAS Channel 8 website:

A runner from Russia, Sylvia Skvortsova, won the Las Vegas Marathon 2007 with an unofficial finishing time of 2:29:02. The top men's finisher is Christopher Chebobibich from Kenya, who will take home $20,000. His unofficial finishing time was 2:16:49. The women are given an 18 minute lead in the race and this is the first time a woman has won the challenge.

How can someone WIN a marathon if she doesn't have the best time?
I'm not knocking Sylvia's accomplishment, which is remarkable, but just because she was the first person over the finish line doesn't make her the winner.

Honorable Mention

I've been honored by Joey at Vegas Links with a review and recommendation of my blog.

I'm so excited, I could squeeeeeee like a little girl (actually, I already did!)

This is a very nice start to my weekend, that's for sure.

Let me just say...

that I saw "too much" during a massage today.

I was getting ready to work on a guy's leg and glute, had already draped it, when he decided he wasn't comfortable enough and spread his legs

T H I S

F A R

on the table.

Unfortunately, the sheet stayed where I had put it, so the guy flashed me his sack.

For a split second I thought, "Oh, yeah. THAT'S what they look like. I forgot."

Then I quickly re-draped the leg and got back to work.

Weird

Had a strange dream the other night. Have no clue what it means, if anything.

In my dream I was pregnant again, this time it was my baby, and I knew it was a son.

I (somehow) took the fetus out, it was about the size of a peanut, and set it on the table to show my daughter.

"This is your brother," I said.

I pointed out his beating heart, and how he was (visibly) growing, then told her it was time to put him back.

Here's where it gets REALLY freaky. The fetus was now a dessert-plate sized crab.

(I know, I wouldn't want to be my subconscious, either.)

The crab was alive, bright red (which, while awake, I know means it's been boiled already), and waving its claws around. (Claws? Pincers? Who knows or cares?)

So I just shoved that sucker back where it belonged. And trust me, a fucking crab that size just does not fit "up there", okay?!

Thankfully the dream ended there, so I didn't have to give birth to some crab mutant.

And I don't want any jokes about pubic lice, you hear me?

Sweet...

To me, tips are icing.

If a client stiffs me, he will be roundly cursed behind his back.

If a client gives me ANYTHING it's greatly appreciated. Tips are my grocery money, my movie-ticket money, my hey!-let's-have-McDonald's-for-dinner money.

Today I was stiffed by one client, who was rude enough to be late AND didn't shower (Bastard), and his girlfriend, whom Angie had the "privilege" of massaging, didn't wash her hands after using the bathroom before the massage. But I digress...

Another client who received our "super-deluxe massage", a $200 service, gave me a folded twenty afterwards, while I was changing the linens. Hey, that's 10%, I'll take it! I stuffed it in my pocket and thought nothing more of it.

I stopped at Smith's on the way home to pick up stuff for dinner, and the total came to approx. $13.00. I took out the folded twenty to pay, unfolded it, and found ANOTHER twenty was folded up with it.

Woo-hoo!

Thanks, Ms. L. You really made my day. Not to mention making up for Mr. Cheap Asshole.

Why?

Why does this shit always happen to me?

We were in the dog park less than 5 seconds, my hounds were indulging themselves in their first sprint across the field, when Harley, the small (15 pound) pup intersected the path of a mentally and physically handicapped teen aged girl.

She was running full-out, being "chased" by some other dogs, looking over her shoulder instead of where she was going and tripped over Harley, ending up doing a face-plant in the grass.

Thankfully, Harley wasn't hurt...

Is that callous? Maybe, but I don't give a shit, frankly.

Yes, of course I'm glad that no lasting damage was done to the kid, but either way...wtf was she doing in the dog park, anyway?

She was there with her Grandma, they didn't have a dog...it's not a playground, folks!

If the girl likes dogs, great, bring her to the park and then PARK her ass on a bench, so she can watch. Don't let her run around the field with about twenty dogs who are going in all different directions if she doesn't have the capacities to pay attention and stay on her feet.

My dog was scared out of his tiny mind, jumped into my arms and tried to climb on top of my head. Luckily, he was only traumatised for about 18 seconds (his entire attention span). Then he was off and running again.

The girl was complaining to Grandma that she couldn't breathe (but was having no problems talking, go figure), and they packed up and left a few minutes later, with Grandma telling her she'd take her to the doctor. I attempted to apologize about three times (why? Because I'm overly socialized), but Grandma completely ignored me and wouldn't even look at me.

An hour later, a couple with their cute Boston terrier showed up at the park. I just wish they had found a babysitter for their obnoxious, four-year-old son...

Piece of...

Seen today at a local hospital, a truck from this company.

I'm sorry, Folks, but the first thing that came to MY mind was, naturally, the obvious...Piece of Shit!

It's just the way my filthy mind works.

Guess what?!

That's always an ominous question to field from a client, but especially when it's a male client and you just flipped him over onto his back...

Me(hesitantly): Yes? *Oh, no, what's he gonna say now...?*

Him(jubilantly): You know, I have two extra bones in my body!

Me: *Oh, my God! Please, PLEASE don't get weird on me now...!* Okay?

Him: Yeah, right underneath each of my outside ankle bones, do you see?

Me: Wow, you're right! How *freaky, weird, bizarre*...um, interesting.

And it's true. He had a small, superfluous bone with a knuckle-like protrusion located just inferior to the lateral malleolus of each foot. (just underneath the outside ankle-bone of each foot, to be non-anatomical!)

You just never know how these massages are going to go.

Quit doin' that!

Had ANOTHER side-by-side massage with B. today. Our clients were two young ladies receiving massages for the first time. Of course they kept their *expletive deleted* underwear on, even after it was explained to them how that would affect the massage.

Whatever, I thought.

But after I had flipped my lady over to work on the front of her body, I noticed that every time I happened to glance at her face, she was staring at me.

Staring.

Staring.

I was totally creeped out. I tried not to let it bother me, and failed miserably.

The worst was when I was working on her head and neck, because I was sitting about six inches away from her face.

I finally just closed my eyes, since I can literally do that part of the massage blind-folded.

Turns out B.'s client was doing the same to her!

They were really good tippers, so I'll try not to think too badly of them...even though they're WEIRD!!!

Thankful

I'm thankful that nobody can force me to go on this ride.

(the one on the extreme left...)



Maybe if someone offered me a hundred grand...

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

Lesson learned

Always turn the light on BEFORE breaking up a dogfight which is raging at 2AM on top of your sleeping bod.


And don't let pups bring rawhide chews into bed with them...

I know the picture quality sucks ass, but I couldn't get the camera to focus better.

The stuff that looks like peeling skin around the bite? A massage therapist's best friend: Liquid bandage

Yes, I'm aware I've got "big guns", they're my not-so-secret massage weapon, especially my elbows.

And yes, I'm glow-in-the dark pale (aka "fish-belly white").

Finally

Tomorrow I start a new phase in my life.

Sounds overly dramatic, but it's true!

Tomorrow I start my first week as a full-time massage therapist.

Since I came back from maternity leave, I've been working the front desk of the spa Tuesdays-Thursdays, while only doing overflow massage, assuming there was another front desk coordinator there to cover for me (which wasn't often).
Friday and Saturday were my only "true" massage days.

Now we have two new front desk personnel (whom I helped train to do things MY WAY the right way), and I'll be exclusively doing massage every day.

I'm so happy!

Plus my hours changed so I'll be getting home earlier (that's good), which necessitates getting UP earlier (not-so-good).

But I'm happiest because this means much, much more blog-fodder to feed you with!

And I know that just thrills you all to pieces, right?

Right?!

*sounds of stifled laughter drifting through the ether*

Oh, well.

On my way home today...

I saw two young, clean-cut men, walking down Flamingo Street, East-bound, wearing flip-flops and bright, white bathrobes.

Must've lost a bet!

Get the fire good and hot...

Had another side-by-side with B. today. Pretty much a routine deep-tissue massage, with B. massaging the marathon-running wife, while I massaged the very tall, muscular hubby.

As I was massaging Randy's hamstrings and glutes, I noticed B. practically jumping up and down on the other side of the room. She was massaging Jessica's calf, but was pointing at her (Jessica's) ass with her other hand, while trying not to laugh out loud. It was very dark in the room, but as I squinted carefully, I could just make out a lovely calligraphic tattoo on Jessica's right glute.

RANDALL'S

it proclaimed.

Wow.

Why not break out the branding iron, and do it right?

Then any time you hear bacon sizzling on the griddle, or smell pork ribs grilling on the barbecue, you'll be reminded how much you LUV your spouse. I mean, he OWNS your ass, right?

Surprisingly enough, I didn't see a tattoo on Randy's body proclaiming it Jessica's property, but then again, I didn't get to see EVERY body part, after all...

Murphy's Law Massage

A couple weeks ago I had my first side-by-side massage with B., the lead female therapist, and coincidentally the person who had the joy of training me in our protocols here, right before she left on maternity leave, which was right AFTER I came BACK from maternity leave (lots of pregnancies at the spa...DON'T ASK).

B. got to massage the girlfriend, while I had the guy.

Our massage gets off to a rollicking start when the attendants initially can't find a robe big enough for my client. So basically, B. already has the girlfriend on the table, but we're still waiting for the dude.

And the clock's ticking...

While R. and M. (the attendants) are running around looking for a super-sized robe, R. mentions that my client is bleeding from a cut or scrape on the nape of his neck. So now I scamper off to find some vinyl gloves, since I'm allergic to latex.

Finally Dude shows up, holding his robe closed with one hand. I hustle him into the treatment room, noticing that he's wearing a heavy necklace, which I offer to remove for him. Thanks to the fact that it's as dark as a well-digger's ass in there, I can't see what the hell I'm doing, and he reaches for the necklace, while letting go of the robe... and I'm SO outta there!

And the clock's ticking...

After Dude gets situated on the table, and B. and I re-enter the room, I start my patented Christina-massage©. When I get to his left arm, he jerks his head up and blurts:

Oh, I forgot my locker key, I think it's still in the locker! (which of course has his wallet, etc. in it...)

So I break off the massage, bolt to the entrance of the men's spa (I can't go in, natch) and (softly) holler for the attendant. R. listens to my whining, gets me the key, and back I race to the side-by-side room.

I quietly open the door and try to unobtrusively slide into the room, but am foiled by a small, lidded trash can which lurks innocently next to the door. I stomp squarely on the pedal and cause the lid to crash into the wall.

Wow, right about now I'm sure the clients are wondering when they agreed to appear on the latest episode of "America's Crappiest Spas, and how to Avoid Them", but I soldier on, 'cause that's what a professional does, right?

Okay, so I take a deep breath and finally get into my zone.

The massage is rolling right along, and I notice my client scrounged up a band-aid for his boo-boo. The boo-boo isn't a cut or scrape, either. Dude is a BIG guy, sporting a fade, and right at his hair-line at the nape of his neck, the three rolls of blubber flesh have caused chafing, which has lead to infected, ingrown hairs. Which he must have scratched or picked at, and which are now oozing blood and other, unsavory, unidentifiable liquids.

Thank the FSM I'm wearing gloves!

He is also very hairy, and has numerous other in-grown hairs scattered across his back...*

I continue with the massage, and as I'm working on Dude's quads, I happen to glance over at B...

I almost die trying to choke back laughter, 'cause she's massaging with one hand, while pulling out the front of her shirt with the other and blowing down the neckline!

Yes, it is HOT in that room. Good for the clients, not-so-good for the therapists.

Finally, we're almost done, I can see light at the end of the tunnel.

B.'s and my timing is very close, which isn't always the case with two very different therapists working together, and we're both massaging our clients' respective heads, necks, and shoulders. We're seated on these nifty rolling stools, which save wear and tear on our knees (NOT enough padding underneath the carpet in this joint, let me tell ya!)

I notice Dude's band-aid has come loose and is dangling on one side, probably a result of the massage oil, and I ask him if it's okay if I remove it. He assents, and I proceed to pay B. back for her earlier shirt-blowing episode...

I pull the band-aid off, and I'm wearing gloves, remember...

OF COURSE the fuckin' band-aid gets stuck to the glove! I'm whipping my right hand around like Matt G directing traffic at his town's Fall Festival, and the band-aid finally comes off, flying in a lovely arc to land thisclose to B.'s left foot.

Pay-back is truly a bitch, 'cause now it's B.'s turn to try to keep from busting a gut. Her shoulders are shaking, and it's a wonder her client doesn't notice anything.

Thankfully this concludes the massage from hell, and surprisingly enough, Dude and girlfriend are pleased.

We even get tips. Go figure.

What a way to impress your trainer, no?

---

*I know I've mentioned before that thick body-hair can be problematic when doing deep-tissue massage, but for the record let me state that I'm NOT grossed out by it, okay? And hair is INFINITELY preferable to stubble! This was a Swedish massage, in any case...

Massage Humor

You had to've been there...

Me (receiving a totally BRUTAL deep-tissue massage by K.): You know, after a day of doing massage my right shoulder is totally jacked-up right *here* (digging my thumb just into the space between shoulder and armpit).

K: The coracoid process?

Me: The coracoid process is more medial, isn't it?

K: No, the coracoid process, you know (crooking her pointer finger), it's the head of the pecker!

Me: WHAT?!

K: The bird's pecker!

Me: You mean the beak, right?

K: Yeah, the thing the bird pecks with. Damn, I can't get my tongue wrapped around my IQ today!

Much hilarity ensued. Also when I told her she'd make a great dominatrix (this while I was whimpering in pain as she was mauling my scapulae). She told me to bark like a dog...

Yes, Mistress!

Woof, woof.

Air Show

Most amusing and memorable sentence heard while viewing the Thunderbirds' performance at the 2007 Nellis AFB Air Show:

Silver (with awe): It's like marching band...WITH AIRPLANES!

Most goosebump-inspiring moment: Watching the Thunderbirds perform the "Missing Man" formation, while Taps was playing. Choked me up, too.

Pics to follow.

Thank you.

To all who've served and those who continue to serve, all my gratitude.

Since I've got nuthin'

Here's a random blog-thing I stole from Marko at the Munchkin Wrangler:

Your Inner European is Dutch!

Open minded and tolerant. You're up for just about anything.

Who's Your Inner European?

More spa stories to follow, just not today. I'm busy. Reading Academ's Fury by Jim Butcher.

Talk to you later!

Stay outta my spa!

Attention all you old biddies who are candidates of the Mrs. Old-Lady USA Pageant, or whatever-the-fuck it's called:

If you want to book appointments, please either call me, or come in one at a time, 'cause Ladies, honestly, all your clashing perfumes/colognes/haircare products/denture creams breath fresheners make me want to puke.

And they give me a headache.

And they make me sneeze.

Thank you, that is all.

Flashback

This song greeted me as I walked through the casino on my way to the spa this morning.



I immediately flashed back to the summer of 1985, to the outdoor disco at the international camp I was attending in the middle of the boonies in Hungary.

Dancing to this song with a stable boy who spoke neither German nor English (my only two languages), while I spoke not a word of Hungarian.

All I remember about him was how he asked me to meet him at the disco.

I had gone for a ride that morning, and after returning to the stables he had drawn a little picture of people dancing, with a question mark hovering over their heads.

Then he'd pointed to himself and me.

I'd nodded eagerly.

Some things are universal and require no speech (or thought, for that matter, especially for teenagers!)

I was fifteen, and the fact that the song defined "suckage" was irrelevant to me.

I was in Hungary! Without my mother! Dancing with an older man! Who was a stable boy!

Life was sweet.

Note to self...

crate dogs BEFORE attempting to massage daughter.

Last Night

Last night I had a dream. I dreamed that I was walking through a parking garage towards my car, when a tall, blond man approached me and asked me if I wanted his BMW.

I immediately assented, walked with him to his car and merrily drove off with him.

I don't know why I had to drive WITH him, if he was just planning on handing over the car keys, but it's my wacky dream, so bear with me.

The car was a very boxy two-seater convertible, certainly no BMW I'VE ever seen, and it was the lovely green color of every lawn-mower in existence.

So I'm riding along with this blond man, no sense of fear or danger at all, which is extremely stupid of my dream-self, if you ask me, and I start worrying in my dream about how I could afford the registration fees and added car insurance!

Sure, Chris! Forget about the fact that this guy might just possibly have an ulterior motive for driving off with you, and only worry about money.

It sucked the fun right out of the dream, and I woke up shortly thereafter.

Saturday

Saturday it was that time again.

The Las Vegas Invitational High School Marching Band Competition (whew, too many caps!).

Silver's HS band did not win or place, AGAIN. It's so frustrating for the kids, and the staff I'm sure, because they've all been working so damn hard, hours of rehearsals several evenings a week, and most Saturdays, too.

Then to see (according to the *motherf'n* judges) no improvement, it's just heartbreaking.

Silver was talking about quitting band, but it was just her frustration talking, because she really loves it.

Except the stress, that she could do without.

Also, as a parent who's financially strapped and who wants to go to college herself, it's important to encourage Silver to continue activities which can net scholarships.

Sad, but true.

This was her third year of competing, and also my third time attending, but for the first time, there were Army recruiters there! They must be desperate...lol!

I did my usual handshake, thank-you thing, and they were appreciative. I shudder to think of some of the parents' reactions to their presence.

Well, that's it for me today, as it has been craptastic (I was both late arriving to work *first time EVAR*, and late leaving. I'm sure I'll hear about it tomorrow, oh well...) and it's time for me to massage Silver, she really needs it and she has another competition tomorrow night (the Half-time Show Review at Sam Boyd Stadium).

Take care, people!

It's about time...

for a carwash, I know.

And maybe for me to call animal control, 'cause there are way too many feral cats running around here.*




*just kidding, I love kitties!

Christina's Word of Wisdom #4...? I think...?

If your young child is terrified of dogs, DON'T TAKE HIM TO THE DOG PARK!!!!

Randomness

Seen on a health form a (male) client filled out, in the space where one can write concerns or issues the therapist should be made aware of...:

I'm a wimp. Please be gentle with me...

---

Seen on a t-shirt a chubby teen-aged boy was wearing at a football game:

I go to school for the babes.

---

And I feel like I'm cursed, 'cause a guy sitting in the bleachers right below me kept leaning forward and putting his (highly UNattractive) ass-crack on display.

Blech.

I get enough ass at work.

Wait, that came out wrong...

Yum, yum

As I was waiting at a red light on Las Vegas Blvd. (aka "The Strip") this morning, three of these crossed right in front of me.

Yum, yum. Eye candy on my way to work.

Thank you, Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department!

Gentlemen, keep on pedaling, the people you serve appreciate it more than you know.