Requiem for a Dream

So, I had another interesting dream last night. This would be the second bizarre dream in a row. Not an astonishing feat by any means, but my brain certainly has my full attention. I generally have three types of dreams, the key word, of course, being generally. The first, is the normal, run-of-the-mill type of dream where I'm in a hot tub with swimsuit models in the French Alps, and you know.....we have deep, long, penetrating, invigorating, and mind-blowing conversation about life and what it means. After waking up from these dreams, I'm usually hungry, but have a big smile on my face and feel as though I have reached a higher level of consciousness. People generally comment on my "glow", or ask if I've purchased a new moisturizer. 

The second type of dream is always a high-octane, action packed, Jackie Chan, Bourne Identity-like dream with lots of ass-kicking kung fu. I'm usually chasing someone or handing a beat down to a group of thugs. In these dreams, there is always some purpose I must fulfill in order to restore balance. As with the first kind of dream, my abilities and skills very accurately mirror my abilities in real life. 

The third type of dream I usually have, is some nonsensical, Salvador Dali, Alice in Wonderland type of dream where the setting, characters, plot, and time are all incongruent. These dreams are highly symbolic and rich in hidden meaning, but are difficult to interpret due to their strange composition. For instance, I have this one where I am steering a boat with a long stick, through the Amazon River, and the water is filled with manatees, thousands upon thousands of manatees. One of my sisters is also on the boat that I am carefully maneuvering through the manatee-filled waters in order to avoid hurting them. We are guided only by a lantern. To top it all off, we are part of a painting. I haven't had this one in a while, so I can't remember all that happens. I do, however, remember that it is quite strange. 

The dream I had a couple of nights ago fits under this second description. I jumped in the back of a cab in some New York like city back drop, and when I looked up, I noticed that Robert DeNiro was the driver. Sitting next to him, in the passenger seat, was Master Yoda. Governor Schwarzenegger was to my left, and next to him, believe it or not, was Al Pacino from Scent of a Woman. Everyone was arguing with each other and although the car was moving, DeNiro was driving without looking. Yoda and I spoke to each other telepathically. I remember asking him if I was the last Jedi. He mumbled something about my training being complete and that he was tired of driving the cab.  

What kind of dreams are you having?

Sixteen Candles

I have a rather vivid imagination, it helps to pass the time during a massage when I'm having difficulty staying in the present. Generally, these lapses of focus are occupied mostly by thoughts of food. However, when I'm not thinking about my next meal, I'm often playing the Panty Game. The Panty Game is where I  imagine what people are like and what they do by the brand, style, and material of their panties. I often wonder if they're married, single, of angelic origin, or inclined to promiscuity. Are they tidy, wealthy, high maintenance, or on that time of the month? Do they own dogs or cats, do they sky-dive, like to cook, or strip for money. Are they runners, writers, circus performers, police officers, or tax collectors? Do they like movies, are they foreign, and would they like my guacamole?

I've seen them all. Big ones, little ones, g-strings, thongs, boy shorts, halfsies, the Hipster, the Highcut, the Low-cut, the Bikini,  and the ever cornea-blinding, gag-inducing classic, the Granny. They come in lace, cotton, silk, nylon, satin, mesh, lycra, and polyester. I've been doing body work long enough that I can tell, at a glance, what they're made of, whether or not you bought the right size, and how much of a hassle they are going to be. I can make estimations about people all day, and their panties can sometimes garner an extra clue as to my deductions, but honestly, you can never know for sure. What I do know, with absolute certainty, is that they are the bane of my professional existence.

The worst offender is definitely the g-string, particularly, the double waistband. When I start working on the back, the sheet (sometimes accompanied by a blanket) is folded back just before the gluteal cleft (also referred to as plumber's crack). Unfortunately, if a client decides that she wants to play the Panty Game, I have to pull the waistband down as well, as to avoid getting oil on them and to remove obstruction of my awesome hand glides. More often than not, the g-string waistband is some taught strip of elastic heinousness that almost always refuses to stay in place. Thus begins the underwear fiasco. How many times do I try to put the band back where I want it before my client thinks that I'm playing with her panties, or trying to take them off? I can't really go over them because that can't be comfortable, but if I don't try and keep it out of the way, every time I do a full back stroke, my fingers/hands get caught underneath and the waistband snaps back into place on the return. Before I concede, I usually make it a point to get a couple of good snaps in to convey the message that your panties are a pain in my ass.

The only advantage to a client wearing either a thong or g-string is that you can still get to their glutes, but that's little comfort considering all the maneuvering you have to do in order to avoid snapping the spandex in the first place. It would make more sense, if you're going to wear that little material anyway, to go commando and enjoy a seamless and blissful massage. Leave the lingerie for your boyfriend, unless of course.........you like guacamole.

Iron Man 2

Robert Downey Jr. reprises his role as the witty, volatile, and insanely rich Tony Stark. Along side him are Don Cheadle, Scarlett Johansson, and Samuel L. Jackson. Gwyeneth Paltrow returns as the perpetually worried Pepper Potts and continuing his career revitalization campaign, is the often underrated Mickey Rourke, as Ivan Vanko, the film's antagonist.

I won't go into plot details, because the synopsis can be found on-line, and I don't want to spoil the movie for you. I will say, however, that the plot, one of revenge, was overshadowed and driven by the purpose of introducing characters for the upcoming Avenger films. For those of you who are not comic book nerds, the Avengers are a group of Marvel comic book superheroes brought together to fight evil forces. Among them, is Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Captain America, The Scarlett Witch, and Thor (a mythical Norse God), just to name a few. In later issues of the comic, Spider Man and Wolverine join the group.

Generally, I don't have a problem with a film setting up a sequel, however, Iron Man 2 is so targeted with the introduction of its future films, that it, pardon the pun, takes on a "comic book" feel. Although, entertaining, I feel that Iron Man 2 didn't follow the successful formula of the first film (one of my biggest pet peeves and the number one reason for unsuccessful sequels) and even though it had great performances by Rourke and Downey, it wasn't enough to ignore the cheesy and contrived implantation of random characters. Setting up the Avenger films was such a concern, that the final battle scene was slightly anti-climactic, and short-lived.

Scarlett Johansson's character was virtually emotionless, save for a few flirtatious one-liner exchanges with Downey. Jon Favreau, who also directed the first Iron Man, did manage to successfully introduce some comical elements, but he also managed to lose my attention at times with the outlandishly, overplayed, annoying character of Justin Hammer, who is a weapons manufacturer, and Tony Starks' competition. I did like the clever "Captain America" reference in the movie, but you unfortunately have to sit through the painstakingly, long credits to catch a short clip of Thor's landing on Earth.

All in all, the film was visually stimulating and entertaining, but I ultimately feel that it could have been better. My overall assessment for this movie is three and a half stars out of 5, worth the price of admission, but not good enough to make it to my movie collection. Younger children will enjoy the action, but will definitely be lulled to sleep by the middle of the movie until the real activity starts. Enjoy the film and I look forward to your thoughts.

Happy Mother's Day

Just a quick post to wish all mothers a wonderful Mother's day!

Going to watch Iron Man 2 tonight and will also be finishing a fascinating book. (can barely wait to tell you about it!) I'll review both of them tonight!

Au voir.

Poltergeist

Psssssssssssssst! Hey. You there, yeah you.....I'm baaa-aaack!

Brown's back in the game with an all new look, but that same ol' swagger. Going to continue with some original themes such as book and movie reviews, but also adding a product review segment. That's an open invitation to all you inventors, artists, enthusiasts, business owners, and mavens. If you've made something, found something, or love something you want me to watch, read, checkout, listen to, or use, let me know and I'll gladly make you famous put it under the scope.

Many changes in Brown's life, so in order to reflect that higher level of consciousness, the blog needs to evolve. We're toning down the language a bit (shit I know) and adding a lot more pictures, (for those of you who like visuals) but not to worry....I shant be losing my sarcastic and comedic tone. After all, you can only be yourself. Enjoy my poppets, and as always, I look forward to your comments. Muahahahahahaah....

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?