Pet Peeve # 419

I understand the concept of getting a massage early in the morning and not having showered, (okay, well not really) but if you're feet look like you've been treading through soot, or like you've been using them to dig for oil, then we've got a problem. The spa has amenities, extremely nice ones I might add, and you should use them. Also, for your convenience, we provide expensive, aromatic body washes infused with all kinds of herbs and plant extracts from places I can't even pronounce. (So they must be good) If you don't have the decency to take a shower, in the name of all things holy, at least rinse off your dirty ass feet. If I pull back the sheet to discover filth covered soles, I guarantee two things are going to happen: I will massage them thoroughly while I try not to gag, and then I will thoroughly massage your face (with a smug grin). Just my way of giving back.

By the way, the same goes for your ass. The last thing I want to experience while I'm administering a forearm glide down the length of your back, as I contemplate what I'm going to have for lunch, is catching a whiff of pungent, putrid, rancid ass crack. The only thing I hate more than people who sit in the hot tub before a massage and force me smell their noxious chlorine fumes (paired with sweat and body funk) for an hour, is rank ass. Trust me, if there was a way I could make you smell your own ass without getting fired, I would have figured it out by now. Do us both a favor, just take a damn shower.

While we're on the topic of ass and feet funk, let me take a quick moment to also express another bane of my profession, spray on tans. I'm not really sure what possesses people to get a spray tan BEFORE getting a massage, but allow me a quick moment to eloquently, professionally, and respectfully illustrate my heartfelt concern........don't fucking do it. You smell like a tamale of burnt flesh rolled in paprika. Not only would I prefer you didn't expose me to your hazardous, fake tan vapors, but the filmy residue turns my sheets orange and is a bitch to get off my hands. If you want to accelerate the melanoma process, by all means don't let me stop you beef jerky. Just have the decency to pursue skin cancer AFTER a massage.

Dumb ass of the Week

I suppose you've waited long enough, here is the Dumbass of the Week Award..... This week was extremely difficult to decide, being that stupidity was so pervasive in the news. Although I generally bestow the award to dumbasses for whom no love is lost, this week's award is given with a slight pang of sorrow.

Drumroll please......... The winner is a two way tie! I know, I know...nothing like this has ever happened before, but calm yourselves...shortly you will agree.

First up, the manly Serena Williams. I gleefully hand over the award to Serena, who lost her temper and went off on a line judge at the U.S. Open....in front of millions. The powers at be managed to bleep out the content, but lucky for you my venerable readers, I have been trained by the government to read lips. Although no one will repeat exactly what she said, I know the precise words that were hurled towards the meek and unsuspecting little Asian woman like sharp daggers. Walking towards the unsuspecting woman, with muscles flexing and veins pulsating, Serena said through gritted teeth, "I will shove this fucking ball down your fucking throat!" Upon hearing the threat, the little woman ran to the chair umpire like a defenseless child fleeing from the chupacabra boogie man, fearing for her life. Serena's hair was disheveled, her eyes glowed angry and red, and she glistened with sweat like a hungry she wolf in the moonlight. She looked rather serious.

The line judge told the chair ump that Serena threatened to kill her, and although those were not the tennis star's exact words, they pretty much meant the same thing to a little Asian woman with no ninja training. Later in the press conference, Serena acted like no one could ever be afraid of her because she's never even been in a fight. Hmmm...would you fight her? I Didn't think so. I fail to see where that path of logic is a sound defensive position.

Since Serena had already been given a previous warning in the match for hurtling her racket, this infraction was a point deduction, a point Serena couldn't afford with the game already at match point. Her opponent won by default. Although the odds were exponentially against her launching a successful comeback at that point in the match, it must undoubtedly suck to lose in such fashion. Serena was eventually fined $10,000 for the outburst, and although I think she should have been suspended, they allowed her to play with her sister in the doubles final. Here's to Serena.....dumbass!

And now, the co-winner of this week's award...[you know what to do]....Kanye West. Ugh, this pains me, but it must be done. I looked past the last time he opened his mouth when he wasn't rapping, but this faux pas is just unforgivable. As I'm sure all of you know at this point, during the MTV video music awards while Taylor Swift was receiving her first award, Mr. I'm a fucking asinine, dumbfuck imbecile, shit head, mother fucker, woe is me, I can do whatever the hell I want Kanye West, decided to interrupt the mild mannered teen and take microphone from Taylor's hands to announce that Beyonce's video was better. Seriously, who does that? He was appropriately booed and just like Senator Wilson's outburst towards the president, I think he should be reprimanded. Perhaps violently beaten with branches of wet Eucalyptus leaves then rolled in salt. I do love a variety of his songs, but I guarantee that I won't be buying anymore. What an ass.

Did I miss anyone?

Snatch

I have a slew of blog posts that are eagerly waiting to be published and enjoyed by my thousands hundreds many two readers, but after perusing today's headlines, I knew that the following story took precedence. Along with my admiration for breasts, most of you know that I revere animals as well. Oftentimes, holding them in even higher regards than most humans; particularly the stupid ones. Case in point, Jessica Simpson.

CNN.com reports that a wild coyote snatched Jessica Simpson's beloved maltipoo, Daisy, then vanished whence it came. While certainly a tragedy, this event simply reinforces my belief that dogs weren't meant to be bred for toting around in purses. To add insult to injury, Jessica Simpson, in all her infinite wisdom, is offering a reward for anyone who can reunite her with her little dog carcass. Someone needs to tell her that her dog was pretty much dead the second it was abducted. To my knowledge, coyotes aren't the type of scavengers to bestow a pardon to their prey. Anything dubbed a maltipoo, was destined to be low on the food chain anyway. Many of her fans showed their support via Twitter, hoping that the star would eventually find her pooch. Apparently, her fans are just as bright as she is. Sorry Jess, should have gotten a Rottweiler.

Pet Peeve #811

People who don't take off their jewelry before a massage. I am not Jacob, or a pawn shop; I don't care how big the rock your husband got you is, you don't need to know what time it is, and no, I don't think your anklet is cute. Take it off. Pretty Please. With a fucking cherry on top.

If you can afford my prices, I already know you have money. Perhaps you're accustomed to going to lesser massage therapists, but when you come to me, you need to be as naked as the day you were born. Just like any other artist, I too need a clean canvas. One of the things that sets me apart from other therapists are my transitions (and my brownness). It's the one element of massage that is often overlooked, but is essential in slowing a busy mind, or turning it off altogether.

What often separates a good massage from a phenomenal one, is the ability to coax the mind into timelessness. The way to do that is to massage in a way that appears seamless. Seamlessness is achieved when the client's mind can no longer distinguish between elbows, hands, knuckles, palms, or forearms and the key is in transitioning. Transitions occur when you go from one tool to another, or between different strokes as it were, without a break in contact, speed, depth, or rhythm. However, when I have to maneuver around jewelry, snapping g-strings, or cascading hair, the massage is constantly interrupted and loses its flow. Don't get me wrong, you'll still get good work, but for the same price, wouldn't you prefer perfection?

Science has confirmed the myriad benefits of massage, but one that is rarely mentioned is Alpha waves. The brain emits Alpha waves when in rest or meditation. People who have more Alpha brain waves have less anxiety. Anxiety and stress reduce the strength of our immune systems. Ergo, having more Alpha waves could mean less anxiety and, correspondingly, stronger immune systems. An amazing massage with expert transitions, (and no obstructions) can optimize the duration of Alpha wave emission and in turn grant you greater results. In short, take your shit off and let me work my mojo. You'll thank me in the end......they always do.

Three Cups of Tea

Working in a luxury resort has many perks, one being that I get to meet and work on celebrities. Unfortunately, we have a very specific protocol to follow which limits the interaction we can have with our clients, putting a significant damper on my ability to find out the most coveted secrets in life, such as who will be leaving the cast of Gray's Anatomy, what new nursing show will emerge, and if Chuck and Blaire will reunite. I am, however, privy to other sources of intrigue, with the plethora of affluent eccentrics I meet, that love to talk about their work.

Sometimes, when the stars align just right, I am blessed with opportunities to work on real genuine earth shakers. People who are special beyond belief, people who are grounded, intelligent, and humble; humanitarians who make the world a better place, people. . . . . like Greg Mortenson.

Greg Mortenson has been promoting education and literacy for children in remote villages in Afghanistan and Pakistan for over 15 years. He speaks at over 125 schools a year, and briefs U.S. Marines on Afghan customs and traditions prior to their deployment. He wrote the number one New York Times best seller, Three Cups of Tea, that chronicles his failed attempt to summit K2, the second highest peak after Everest, that is found in the Himalayan mountain ridge in Pakistan. During his descent, he becomes lost without food or shelter and roaming aimlessly on the verge of starvation. Eventually, he stumbles upon a remote village in Pakistan, where he is nursed back to health and vows to return to build the impoverished town a school. What follows, is the recount of the trials and tribulations of a man determined to spread literacy to a nation bound by thousands of years of tradition and violently skeptical towards Americans.

Three Cups of Tea, is is absolutely amazing and is only surpassed by Greg's inexorable passion for building schools. You can learn more about the book, and Greg, here.

I cannot accurately express how honored I was to be his therapist the day he came into my spa. When I saw the name of my first guest that morning, I thought it peculiar that it was similar to the famous author, but dismissed it as coincidence. All doubt was removed when I went to greet him. Greg (as he insisted I call him) had an enormous frame, unmistakable smile, and although soft spoken, had a commanding presence. I am not easily starstruck, but in this case, I was as giddy as a teenager on a first date.

During the massage, we engaged in some of the most riveting conversation I have ever had. I asked him questions about his adventures, and listened to him talk about his passion and expand upon events in the book. I couldn't believe that I was actually talking to this man, it was so surreal. At times, I felt like a journalist in an exclusive interview. We talked about his family, current projects, and the eminent arrival of his second book. Greg and I also talked about other books we liked, and he told me about meeting Khaled Hosseini, the author of Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns (Both fantastic books by the way).

Unfortunately, the hour went by all too quickly, but I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to meet and spend time with such an incredible and inspirational person. He was so humble and respectful, and thanked me profusely for my work. By the time I had escorted Greg back to the relaxation room, I knew that I had experienced one of the most memorable days in my life. It's not everyday that you get an opportunity to meet a modern day Gandhi.

Secondhand Lions

On the recommendations of a couple of fellow bloggers, I went to Barnes & Noble to pick up a few summer reads, because everyone knows that my only passion in life that compares to my adoration of breasts, is books. They both can come hard or soft, they both can nurture you, entertain you, and even educate you. Books however will never sag. At least not for a very very long time.

Lolita and the Time Traveler's Wife were in my sights, among some other ones I've been meaning to pick up. The first, by Nabakov, I found with relative ease. I have two others of his already on my to read book shelf. The latter, however, was nowhere to be seen or found. Unfortunately, as it turned out, everywhere I went was also completely sold out!

As I was walking my dog this morning, I noticed a little garage sale in the neighborhood. Nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. Upon closer scrutiny, my eyes fell upon the most beautiful treasure I had ever seen.....a table, as though the broad shoulders of Atlas supporting the Earth, was holding the weight of a hundred books upon its back. My eyes widened, my heart's pace quickened, my mind began furiously deliberating the possibilities; how many books were there? What kind could they be? Could there be anything good in that mountainous heap of paper and print?

As if compelled by a force not my own, my legs carried me directly to where Atlas knelt, with my dog in a similar trance as he locked in on a box of stuffed animals. Trying to remain calm and not appear too desperate, I quickly began my investigative probe. As I scanned the titles of books, I quickly came to 2 major conclusions: 1) Whoever was selling these books has amazing taste. 2) they must either be an idiot, or have lost their mind for selling them for only 50 cents a piece. We were both drooling noticeably.

The Namesake, White Oleander, Drowning Ruth, What the Dead Know, and Atonement were my final choices. Can you believe that? For $2.50 I managed to snag these stupendous books for a fraction of what I spent at the store. I know what you're thinking, why didn't I buy more? Well, the truth is, not only is my to read shelf growing exponentially out of control, but I would't have had anywhere to put them.

As I was guiltlessly ripping my neighbor's off, and my dog the head of a lion, the owner came down and we began discussing our passion for literature and how this table of books barely put a dent in what she had upstairs. For a moment, I imagined a vast library of books in her home, shelves upon shelves of awesomeness, countless stacks as high as the ceiling, books consuming every open space and covering furniture like wild Ivy. The thought made me smile. We talked for about twenty minutes before my dog was like, dude the lion's dead and you're boring the shit out of me, can we go? The book lady asked which ones I had purchased, and as I went down the list I said, "Oh, yes, and apparently that decapitated lion as well."

I never did find the Time Traveler's Wife, but I found so much more instead. Just goes to show you that you don't always get what you want.......sometimes you get more! Oh, and the city's no place for a lion.

Smart People

I read an article the other day about the concerns of proper grammar usage and spelling in everyday life in relation to texting. The main theme of the article was sort of rhetorical, but did pose the question of whether or not we, society in general, were becoming stupider more stupid due to the frequency in which we use slang, acronyms, abbreviations, and phonetics to communicate through text messaging.

The author of the article interviewed a few experts, one being in language and communication, who ultimately believed that our intelligence would go on unaffected and that the proficiency of our written and spoken language would not be ill fated. [using a pretentious British accent] I, however, vehemently disagree with that assessment. As a matter of fact, I think that stupidity has become pandemic and the ever growing popularity of hip techno devices is eventually going to create generations of dimwitted morons. Uh, did I say eventually?

Look, I like texting for a myriad of reasons (it's more challenging to drive that way) Mainly, because making a phone call requires very specific protocols, which ultimately take up valuable time. Customary salutation, determining if current moment is appropriate to continue verbal communication or if another time would be preferred, transfer of meaningless data, polite responses, possible awkward silences, promises and/or excuses, exit strategy, and termination of transmission.

Now, since time is such a precious commodity and because I am such a thoughtful person, I figure it's faster (and more polite) to just send someone a text. This process is even more poignant if all you have is a quick question, or are unable to talk. This way, the person can determine the importance of the correspondence, and respond accordingly, or as time permits. Furthermore, I like to be even more efficient, by shortening words,and leaving out some punctuations. Otherwise, if I have to spend too much time texting, it becomes self defeating.

Being that this is the case, my two most aggravating pet peeves as of late, are people who despise improper grammar in text messages and people who speak as though they are text messaging. To address the former, as long as you are intelligent enough to understand what I am texting you, then the process through which I send the information is irrelevant. If I shorten words or leave them out entirely, I'm doing so for the sake of time, not because I can't spell. God forbid you have to use your brain for a moment.

The latter is much more frustrating because once this form of communication has infected your speech, it's quite difficult to overcome. For instance, I don't mind when my sister texts me a word like "whatevs", "latr", or "cuz". However, what I can't stand is when people start chopping words in half or fusing words together whilst speaking. One of my friends does this so incessantly that if you were eavesdropping you would think he was a "motard". (moron + retard = motard) See how that works? Yeah, I think it's stupid too. He'll say things like, "Damn she's hidi!" As if adding a third syllable would expend too much energy. Dude, you're 40 years old, don't be an idiot.

Many people see this as a process of social evolution, where I think it's more indicative of a nation that will continue to lose its competitive potential in the global market. We are breeding fatter and dumber offspring and people think this isn't a problem. Most European kids speak multiple languages, are well traveled, and know where Papua New Guinea is on a map. I bet if you ask an American kid, he'd probably think Papua New Guinea is a rapper. Damn shame.