My Best Friends Wedding

So, I've been recuperating for the past few days from a gluttonous 4 day eating and drinking binge with a bunch of feisty Cubans and even feistier Brits (they literally can drink like fishes). One of my closest buddies, La Cubana Gringa, got married over the weekend and I had the distinct pleasure of being the MC for the reception. I'm not entirely sure what she was thinking when she offered to give me free reign of a microphone after I would have undoubtedly been drinking, but luckily we were behind schedule throughout the night which didn't allow for too much extra commentary. Although I wasn't allotted any extra time to tell jokes, (I had prepared a few good ones) it was still smashing and I was deeply honored to have had the opportunity to be a part of the festivities.

I won't go into too much detail, (I proudly still remember them all) but the weekend's events started with the rehearsal dinner on Friday night, quickly followed by salsa lessons and dancing. The wedding and reception on Saturday, with pub hopping ensuing late into the night. An enormous BBQ on Sunday, and finally a wine tour through Sonoma Valley on Monday. Don't ask me how, but we managed to visit bars, watch movies, and even play games in between all the other events that had been expertly planned.

The two recurring themes throughout my entire visit, besides the wedding of course, were drinking and eating. Everywhere I went I had a beer in my hand and I ate more food than I really care to think about. Collectively, I've drank and eaten enough over the past 4 days to sustain a few Cambodian villages for a month. Although I usually do eat large quantities of food, I'm more of a social drinker and generally not accustomed to ravenous stints of alcoholic overindulgence (okay, okay, well at least not anymore). So, imbibing in such excess over any prolonged stretch usually requires a period of recovery. Needless to say, I had a difficult time at the gym this morning.

All in all, I had the most amazing time revisiting with old friends and making new ones. My British accent is not only spot on now, but I'll have a place to stay if I ever get the urge to put it to the test. The ceremony was so beautiful and unforgettably perfect that all subsequent weddings I attend will have a lot to live up to.

Varsity Blues

Hazing, Initiation, Busting Balls, or Popping Cherries . . . . Whatever you want to call it, apparently it even occurs in gourmet kitchens. Enjoy. . . .



Cheers!

Die Hard

As you all know, my favorite month of year is finally here. An entire month dedicated to one of God's greatest masterpieces. A month greater than the ones that celebrate the taking discovery of America, its independence, or the heritage of its citizens. An entire month in which I can shout from the rooftops, professing my undying love for breasts and not be thought mad. Okay, well maybe it's too late for that.

Anyway, instead of ranting about my reverence for boobs, or dazzling you with tales of my mammiferous adventures, I will instead tell you about a warrior that I met over the weekend. On Saturday, I worked on the best client I've ever had, hands down. Her skin was not smooth, youthful, or taught. Her muscles were not perfectly sculptured and toned from countless spinning classes or pilates. Her head was not adorned with long locks of flowing, vibrant hair. As a matter of fact, she was old and arthritic. Her skin hung loosely over her emaciated muscles and brittle frame. Her hair was thin and scarce, but her soul, her soul was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Her smile was more glorious than a thousand sunsets, and her eyes sparkled like cascading waterfalls of diamonds. She may have stood no taller than 5 feet, but her heart was bigger than a mountain's.

This elderly client who slowly rose to greet me, smiled warmly as she shook my hand. Immediately I could sense her energy and calming presence. Her eyes glimmered like the ones from a person that has seen what so many seek. I led her to my room as she quietly shuffled behind me, fighting to walk as gracefully as her tired joints would allow. I was thankful that I was assigned the first room, because I wondered how long it would have taken had we needed to trek the entire distance of a hallway spanning twenty of them. During the massage, I was told a stupendous story of survival. A tale of many battles. A war of epic proportions. Therein, I discovered truly what people can be made of. This woman of 83 years of age, had joint crippling arthritis, a knee replaced (twice), brain surgery to implant a shunt with a microprocessor designed to drain the fluid in her brain that would assist her body in keeping its balance, (a procedure found necessary only after having fallen down a flight of stairs) and she had a double mastectomy to overcome breast cancer. To top this all off ladies and gentlemen, (yes there's more) some how, scar tissue left over from the surgery had become malignant due to the radiation treatments and maliciously attacked her lungs, from which, the doctor's had to remove a generous portion. Needless to say, her voice was a little raspy and her breathing labored and shallow.

However, her difficulty in breathing could not suppress her humor or wit. Her aches could not bind her will nor could her pains stifle her hope. She spoke so highly of all who cared after her. She knew the names of all her doctors and praised their skill and eagerness to help. She spoke of all her surgeries as a war general speaks of victorious battles. She shared her stories. I listened as though being told the location of the Holy Grail. She talked of how she now volunteers at the very hospital that so many of us would have never wanted to revisit. I was amazed.

When most people would have given up, she walked a treadmill. When most people would have cursed God, she hired a personal trainer to visit 3 times a week. When most of us would have refused to lift a finger, she lifted weights, and exercised in her pool. Without a six pack or a spear. Without a Spartan army, she kicked cancer's ass. Okay, maybe she didn't exactly kick cancer's ass, but she defeated a worthy adversary. An adversary that fights to the death and rarely loses. She's still here. Take that Gerard Butler.

An Inconvenient Truth

I don't claim to be a political expert on debate, but I have seen all the movies on this subject. And what I do expect from individuals who have agreed to debate, is to answer the moderators questions. None of this, "I want to talk about energy", bullshit. We've already heard what you wanted say about your energy plan, and unless you have anything to add, I would appreciate it if you would just stay on the topic at hand. Everyone knows you have wet dreams of long pipelines and enormous drills pounding the earth's surface until all it's natural resources have been depleted and our withering planet has been left vapid and incapable of sustaining life.

And please, for the love of Thomas Jefferson, stop smirking and smiling up there like you're Austin Powers and 'this sorta thing is your bag baby'. Every time you wink at the camera I throw up a little in my mouth. It's not endearing and quite frankly I think it's unprofessional. It's a tasteless tactic and by golly it makes you look stupid. (Well, so does thinking that just because you can throw a paper airplane into Russia's back yard that you're magically experienced in foreign policy) Those stupid elementary antics were not cute when Bush did them, and they are even less so when you do. This is a serious matter and just because you go around wielding words like "change", "maverick", and "oversights", that doesn't make you qualified for a position you clearly are unready for. Many Americans may not, but I see right through you. You were well coached prior to this debate, and you stayed within the parameters of your comfort zone. If you want to prove yourself, do your homework, take this shit seriously, and pretty please, with a fucking cherry on top, just answer the questions.

Another thing that really irritates me is at the end of the debate, is it necessary to have the entire family come up on stage and even more so for you to bounce and burp your baby for a few minutes of air time? You know, to make sure that everyone sees what a wonderful mother you are. Aawww look, the little one is toting the baby around, how cute is that? What's her name, Trinket? Cam Shaft? Spark Plug? No, I don't think so. This isn't show and tell, Mommy is at work. Keep those little ones at home or in the audience where they belong. We don't need you to continue flaunting them around like little shiny medallions of patriotism. All these behaviours only further confirm my suspicions that your selection was merely one of political strategy and that you're nothing more than a poster child for the campaign.



Ah, but what would I know.

Bank Job

I know, I know, you minions have waited long enough for the coveted Dumb ass of the week Award. It certainly has been a while since the award has been given out, and not for a lack of dumb asses I must say. Because let's be honest, this thing could practically have a two hour special on ABC and we still wouldn't have enough to go around. Between Congress, our cockamamie president, celebrities, Wall Street, and Clay Aiken (was that even necessary?), there are more than enough award recipients. Tempting as it might have been to hastily bestow this award on any one of the aforementioned nitwits, I think there is an organization that is even more deserving. Okay, so maybe not $700 billion dollar bailout kind of deserving, but equally so. . . . in principal.

And the award goes to, [overly dramatic digitally enhanced surround sound drum roll] the Federal Bureau of Investigation. That's right people, I'm calling out the Bureau. As this article explains, A Wells Fargo bank branch in California got robbed not once, but twice. In the same day. Three hours apart. And they were robbed by none other than the infamous "Chatty Bandit" and "Hard-Hat Bandit". The Chatty-bandit? Are you serious? This is the best nickname they can come up with for an outlaw that has robbed 9 banks at gunpoint without getting caught? Of all the distinguishable characteristics that are pertinent to the case, is this fugitive of the law properly summed up as chatty? I find it difficult to believe that with all the specific training they receive on profiling and studying the criminal mind, that chatty was deemed the most befitting description for this miscreant. And how the hell do they even know that? You would think that a bank robber that stood around for a long time making idle conversation with a bank teller would have been caught by now, no?

You! Fill this bag with money or I'll shoot you in the face! Yeah, so, I'm only really doing this because I'm considerably tired of these gas prices and I really wanted some excitement in my life. I just hope that my family understands when they see it on the news, because that would really be disheartening to not have them understand the amount of stress I'm under to make a better world. I would tell them at Aunt Jenny's BBQ next week, but at this rate, I may be entirely too busy to even show up. I mean really, 9 banks is a lot for only starting less than 6 months ago don't you think? I might have to hire a few assistants or even start a corporation. Does this mask make me look fat? So, how long have you worked here? Don't worry about what I said earlier about shooting you in the face, I really didn't mean that. I would totally like get you in the leg or something. Wow, what a beautiful necklace is that gold?

I'm sure that the FBI, in all their infinite investigative wisdom can conjure a more appropriate sobriquet for this bandit than chatty. Who the hell is in charge of making this shit up anyway? Johnson! Yes Captain. What do we have so far? Uh, well nothing so far sir, we're still interrogating all the witness. Anything concrete yet? Well, no sir, but we do have one teller that is exceptionally chatty, she just keeps ranting about . . . . . Johnson that's it. That's brilliant! The chatty-bandit! Excellent work Johnson, carry on.

Boiler Room

Top Ten clues that I'm going to have a difficult client:


1) They are checking e-mails or talking on their cell phone in the "Relaxation Room".
Seriously?


2) They are built like a Mac truck . . . . .
"Hey, anybody want my three o'clock? I think I'm getting a cramp!"

3) They have diarrhea of the mouth from the second I greet them. . . . .
Do NOT ear rape me. I don't get paid enough.


4) The first words the client says are, "My psychiatrist recommended. . . . ."
So, I guess getting rubbed with hot oil by a sexy man in a dark room whilst naked is suppose to help with that huh?

5) When they have more hair than Beyonce. . . . .
Don't act like you didn't know your crow's nest would get all up in my way. You better tie that shit up girl.


6) When they have more body hair than a Silver Back Gorilla. . . . .
For Pete's sake, get that shit waxed, or lasered. Damn ladies.


7) When they've self diagnosed injuries and refuse to see a doctor. . . . .
I hurt my lower back a few months ago and I think I have a bulging disc, or a herniated disc, or a pinched nerve. Uhuh, and what website told you this?


8) When they want me to fix them the same day they injured themselves. . . . .
"Yeah, I just fell off a ladder a few hours ago and can barely walk, think you can dig in there?" No dumbass, a massage will probably only make it worse, besides why don't you use this money for your co-pay?. . . . retard.


9) When they say, "Do I need to take my bra off?". . . . .
Well, no of course not. As a matter of fact why don't you just leave the whole fucking robe on. I'm sure it will feel crazy awesome.


10) When a client wants me to focus extra attention on more than just a few areas. . . . .
"Make sure you get my right shoulder, there are tons of knots in there. My left knee's been acting up and I sprained my left ankle a few weeks ago. The right side of my neck is a little messed up, I think I slept on it wrong. Oh, could you dig into my hamstrings, they're really tight. You know, my sciatica has really been acting up too. Don't touch my hair please I just got it done, but definitely save some time for my face. Oh my God, I almost forgot, I looooove getting my feet rubbed. By the way, I'm so sorry but I forgot to shave my legs. And one last thing, I've been playing a lot of tennis lately and my elbow's been giving me some problems. I think I have tennis elbow, but don't worry about that so much, I'd much prefer you get my lower back." Um, you do realize that this is a 50 minute massage right?

Burn After Reading

I think I have a problem. I just read a book in three days. TH-REEEEEE days! Once I start I just can't stop. I want to know what happens. No. I need to know what happens! I just went to a little book store on the edge of town, as if it were a crack house, to stock up for the coming weeks. And when I want to encourage children to read I tell them it's just like crack. "You'll love it!" I say. "Well, not the crack, I mean you'll love that too, but it's not good for you. So, uh, stick to the books, because reading is fun. Well, probably not as fun as crack, technically, but much, much safer. And although stealing money from mommy's purse might seem like a good idea, getting her to just buy you some books would be a lot easier. You'll probably get more books than you would crack for the same amount of money anyway, if you bargain your little ass off. And when you run out of money, you can always check books out from the library, where unfortunately, you can't do that with crack. Although, I would imagine that you could probably get through a lot more library books if you were on crack, but that's just speculatory." Here is a short recap of the books I've recently left in the wake of my insatiable crack-reading tornado:

I just finished Water for Elephants. Great historical novel, quick read obviously, but cleverly written. It's about a young veterinary student from Cornell University that runs off to join the circus after tragedy strikes his life during the Great Depression. It's mainly told as a series of memories from the main character who is presently a 90 yr old, or a 93 yr old resident at a nursing home.

Before that, Three cups of Tea. The unbelievable recount of a devout climber who attempts to summit the 2nd tallest peak in the world, K2, which is found in the Himalayas. During the descent of this particular endeavor, he is in awe at the hospitality a local tribe shows him. After discovering that the children learn by using sticks to draw in the sand and are devoid of school supplies, much less an actual school, he's inspired to build one for them. For those unfamiliar with that part of the world, this mountain is located in northern Pakistan. Which by the way, borders Afghanistan and Iran. So, sufficed to say, building a school there comes with particular "challenges" for an American. Especially, during the events of 9/11. Anyway, I highly recommend it.

Before that I crushed Eat, Pray, Love, one of the more enjoyable reads I've had in a long, long time. Brilliantly written, fraught with humor, and extraordinary metaphoric references, a writer chronicles her journey of self discovery after an extremely excruciating divorce. She travels to Italy, India, and Bali, meeting people, learning languages, and finding that one person we all wish to connect with. Anyway, Fantastic book. Read it already!

Prior to that, I read The Life of Pi, which at first is difficult to get through, but the pay off is deliciously worth it. It's about an Indian boy who's parents own a zoo and decide to move to Canada. He Ends up shipwrecked at sea, the lone human survivor, along with a few animal characters; one being a ferocious Bengal tiger. Very intriguing story that makes you want to read it again, just for good measure.

The Power of Now, a magnificent story of enlightenment and Marley and Me, a dog lover must, were also superb books. I would tell you what else I've been reading, but I think you should mind your own business. Besides, you have some catching up to do . . . .