Monthly Archives: August 2010

My new business card

I’ve had many business cards over the course of my life.  When I was a little girl I thought that as long as my job required a business card, then I was an important person making lots of money. 

This is my new business card as of last night. 

I was originally going to write “Hi I’m Melanie and I write shit online,” but I wanted to make it kid friendly. 

I ordered 500 of them for $5.00.  Vista Print sent me a coupon.  I even got a free metal card case and $50 worth of free google adwords. 

This happened all last night at four in the morning.  I could not sleep.  I wanted to pick out the absolute worst business card design I could find.  I’m sure not many people order the pig with wheels.  I can’t think of any business that would want it.

I’m expected to get them in 14 days.  I will hand them out to anyone who wants them.  I’ll even hand them out to people who don’t want them.  I will go as far as hiring some short mexicans to stand on a busy street corner finger snapping my cards at passerby’s to get their attention.  You can find these little guys in Vegas handing out call girl cards.  While I was there on vacation, I started feeling guilty for ignoring these very hard little workers and so I kindly collected every call girl card and pamphlet that was handed to me.  And I did it with a big smile and ‘thank you!’

Instead of noticing the naked girl spread eagle on the card, I noticed the quality of the business card.  Heavy paper, glossy finish, professional photograph with good lighting.  Most of those cards that end up on the ground are of the highest quality.  Those business cards cost more than the girl they advertise, so it baffled me that so many of them end up littering the sidewalk.

Huh, I forgot what my point was.

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Some quote’s about writing

I can’t sleep so here are some of my favorite writing quotes:

I never know what I think about something until I read what I’ve written on it.

-William Faulkner

William Faulkner

There’s nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.

-Walter Wellesley

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.

-Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradbury

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say.

-Annais Nin

Annias Nin

I try to leave out the parts that people skip.

-Elmore Leonard

Elmore Leonard

The time to begin writing an article is when you have finished it to your satisfaction.  By that time you begin to clearly and logically perceive what it is you want to say.

-Mark Twain

Mark Twain

The story I am writing exists, written in absolutely perfect fashion, some place, in the air.  All I must do is find it, and copy it.

-Jules Renard

A writer is someone who can make a riddle out of an answer.

-Karl Kraus

Storytelling reveals meaning without committing the error of defining it.

-Hannah Arendt

As to the adjective, when in doubt, strike it out.

-Mark Twain

Keep a diary and one day it will keep you.

-Mae West

Mae West

One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment.

-Hart Crane

Writing is the product of silence.

-Carrie Latet

Books want to be born; I never make them.  They come to me and insist on being written, and on being such and such.

-Sam Butler

The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in shock proof shit detector.

-Hemingway

Hemingway

The best style is the one you don’t notice.

-Maugham

I want to write books that unlock the traffic jam in everyone’s head.

-Updike

I want to make a quote about writing but I think they’re all taken.

-Melanie

Melanie

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The human centipede

I’m at Cheshire coffee watching a movie called the Human Centipede.  So far I grossed out the guy sitting behind me.  He left.  My neighbor was here getting a coffee and chatting with me while I had in my earphones and watched three people conjoined ass to mouth fetching a newspaper.  My life will never be the same.

My neighbor left without ever looking at my computer screen, but the people that work here may have gotten a glimpse.

The whole movie is described on Tosh.O

Tosh.0 Weds 10:30pm / 9:30c
Spoiler Alert – Human Centipede – Uncut
www.comedycentral.com
 
Tosh.0 Videos Daniel Tosh Web Redemption

He can sum it up way better than I can.

People that were enjoying their coffee outside just came in to throw out their empty cups and say bye to the workers.  Everyone seems so cheerful and innocent while I watch a chinese guy defecate into the mouth of a young American girl.

Is there anyone in the world actually sick enough to do something like this?  It makes me wonder about God and how he can allow these people to exist.  But if we took away the ability to choose whether or not to sew people together ass-to-mouth, then there wouldn’t be free will anymore.

Centipede’s are gross.

But I really want this centipede toy.  I can freak out so many people with it.  I can hide it underneath the blanket on my massage table (better yet someone else’s massage table).  I can stick it in my mailbox for both my mail man and parents to enjoy.  I can throw it into someone’s pool.  I can bring it to a fancy restaurant and throw it on top of my main entrée for a free meal.

What else can it be used for?  I can tie a leash to its head and drag it around town with me. 

I just had a great idea.  Me and my friends go to this Halloween party every year and dress up in similar costumes.  One year we were Goldie Locks and the three bears, the year after that we were the Scooby Doo gang and now this year – next month we will be The Human Centipede!

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Filed under humor, random thoughts, Strange & Unusual

My cute cop client

It’s 12:09 am and I have to wake up at 6:30, but I just really need to post this.

A client of mine that requests to see me every three weeks (for the past 7 or 8 months) just became a cop.  I watched him bloom into a cop.  I feel like I’m his parent watching him blossom into a man.  He is one or two years younger than me, but looks like a teenager.

When he started seeing me, he had just enrolled into the police academy.  Every time we would meet he would tell me the full scoop of what police training was like.

He graduated, had a bit of on-the-job training and just recently became a full-fledged taser toting, gun slinging, billy club clubbing badge wearer.

He is a young, sweet-looking guy with a heart of gold and today he told me a story I can picture him in. 

He mostly works nights, 10 pm – 3 am.  Shifts where he patrol’s for drunk drivers or what-have-you.  He pulled this one guy over who seemed a bit wasted.

My sweet little cop – “Where you going?”

Maniac – “I’m bringing this girl back to her house.”

Sweet cop – “Where does she live?”

Maniac – “Umm, well, I don’t really know her.  I just met her.”

The girl was splayed out – completely unresponsive in the passenger’s seat.  Sweet cop yanks maniac from his car.  Now you have to understand that this cop has a temper only when it comes to sick and twisted people doing bad things to good people – that’s why I adore my little cop client.  He’s so good.  His voice was still emotional – still shaking while telling me this story. 

My sweet cop finds the girls license tucked away in the maniac’s wallet.  The maniac did not have a good reason why he had her license stashed in his wallet.  Her license indicated she lived in the opposite direction from where he was driving.  Maniac was going to his house. 

Paramedics arrived and after several minutes revived the girl into semi-consciousness.  She only had two drinks that night and had no clue where she was or where she was going.  Maniac had drugged her. 

There are no charges against the maniac until the lab tests come back.  In the meantime he’s attending college at Boston university.

Okay, bedtime for me.  Sweet dreams.

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Into the future

I just massaged a woman who reminded me of Jessica Tandy.  She was the old lady who starred in Short circuit and Fried green tomato’s.  She was so cute and sweet and reminded me of how I would be when I’m her age.

She was so comforting and encouraging.  And the strange thing is that she requested me and told me I massaged her before, but I don’t remember her and she is normally Nina’s client.  We write notes on the back of the intake form, and I wrote no notes on her – I have no record or recollection of ever massaging this lady who called me by my first name and acted like we’re old friends.

I have a bit of a sci-fi fantasy imagination so I wondered if she was me from the future.  For most of the massage I had this complete story line of the future me and how I was able to go back in time.

If I was able to go back in time, getting a massage by my younger self would be at the top of my list.  It should be at everyone’s top.

I’ve been watching Futurama on netflix.  Fry reminds me of myself, sadly.

Some Fry quotes:

“I’ll be whatever I wanna do!”

Fry: You know what I like about you Umbriel, you find me fascinating, even when I’m not pretending to be a jewel thief or a lion tamer.
Umbriel : (Gasp) You have Sea Lions on the surface?
Fry: Yeah.  We call them Land-Sea-Lions.  I tame them.

“Hey, what smells like blue?”

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Filed under All about me, journal, Massage therapy

Happiness only real when shared

I woke up today, went upstairs to make some eggs and I hear OCDC running water from the bathroom sink.  He has a weird OCD tendency where he can’t talk while he is washing his hands.  People can talk to him, but he can’t say anything back.  That’s fine and dandy but he washes his hands so much that he had to find a way to communicate without speaking.  If he can’t communicate his needs, he would have to do everything for himself.  And he doesn’t like to do anything for anyone. 

His profound intellect (my family thinks he’s very smart – almost at the genius level) created a sublime system to infuse with his nonlexical dialog.  What did his superb ingenuity come up with?  Well, I’ll tell you.  He talks with his mouth shut.  

The muffled sound that comes out of him in lieu of speaking is becoming the most dreaded annoying sound I ever heard. 

My enabling aunt who’s complacent to his every whim stands idly by waiting for his next command. 

OCDC – “Mmmmm   Mmmmm Uhhhh Claaaaaaaa.” 

Enabling aunt – “What?” 

OCDC – “Mmmmm Mmmmm Uhhh Claaaaaa.” 

Enabling aunt – “Oh, you want the wash cloth?” 

OCDC – “Mmmmm Mmmmm.” 

At this point my eggs are still runny.  I stare at them and hope that my burning gaze would cook them faster. 

OCDC – “Caaaaa huuuuu heeeee.” 

Enabling aunt – “Okay.” 

Hurry up eggs, hurry up.  My toast is done, I butter it.  Slide the eggs off the pan and onto my plate.  Douse it in hot sauce. 

OCDC – “Mmmmmm Mmmmm.” 

I run back downstairs before I hear my aunt’s reply. 

How does this malfunctioning, yet functioning family dynamic work?  Because they have each other.  As long as OCDC’s demands are met, he is satisfied.  And as long as enabling aunt can meet those demands, she is satisfied.  The feelings are mutual and everlasting until some snot-nosed little punk (AKA me) comes into the picture and destroys their fragile balance. 

I go downstairs and log into facebook.  My cousin (OCDC’s brother) keeps making false promises that OCDC and enabling aunt can go live with him and his wife in Louisiana.  I wanted to send him a message asking him when that will happen. 

I didn’t go through with it.  I found his page and was ready to write the message until I glanced down and saw that he only had 20 friends.  

“20 friends?” 

This number stupefied me.  One of his friends was his wife who sends him sweet wall posts such as ‘Love ya XOXO’ – ugh, plahh.  Another friend was my mom.  Most were family.  

I started wondering if he is happy.  If this poor guy is miserable, how’s he going to feel if he reads a message from me asking when he’s going to start taking care of his good-for-nothing brother?

A few weeks ago I complained about OCDC running the water all day and he freaked out at me.  His voice was trembling in anger, “I CAN’T WAIT TILL I GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE.  I respect and love my aunt and uncle, but I CAN’T WAIT TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE.”  All while my enabling aunt tells me that he just started running the water a few minutes ago. 

I was annoyed, but unemotional.  For unemotional people to hear an emotional outburst is comical in a way.  I wanted to laugh at him. 

I sound horrible don’t I?  I’m sure I do, but I lived with this for years and this is my only place to vent and get away with sounding like an asshole. 

I received a text from a friend tonight on my ride home from work.  She wrote about how much she hates her coworker’s and that it’s making her depressed.  I wanted to write a post to help lift her spirits, but it turned into this instead.  However, I do still remember my main goal for this entry was to quote Chris McCandless

In his last journal entry he wrote:  Happiness only real when shared 

He was dying and figured out the main cause of his depression a few minutes (hours?) before he died from hunger and poisonous berries. 

Misery loves company and happiness happens only when shared.  Don’t let misery take over. 

Into the Wild

Overall I learned that certain people are going to be rotton no matter what you do.  You just have to say, “Fuck em.”  Honestly, it works. 

I know you’re reading this in work right now and have no volume, but this song helps in putting petty annoyances in perspective.  You can watch the video and read along to the lyrics. 

Such is the way of the world
You can never know
Just where to put all your faith
And how will it grow
 

Gonna rise up
Burning back holes in dark memories
Gonna rise up
Turning mistakes into gold
 

Such is the passage of time
Too fast to fold
And suddenly swallowed by signs
Low and behold
 

Gonna rise up
Find my direction magnetically
Gonna rise up
Throw down my ace in the hole
 

Umm….It’s lot more soothing with the volume turned up. 

OCDC is running the water again.  I need to watch this video one more time.  Breathe.

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Filed under journal, My OCD cousin who wants to kill me, rant, Self help

Vegas vacation

Posing on freemont street in vegas

 We flew out of Bradley at 9 am and arrived in Vegas at 2 pm (Vegas time).  I went outside for the first time and felt what a Nevada heat wave in August felt like.  It was so hot that I got chills in the shade.  I put a cigarette in my mouth and dug around in my purse for a lighter.  A nice airport worker walked by and lit his lighter in front of my face.   

“Thanks.”  So far, so good.  Vegas people are nicer than Connecticut people.   

I go back inside for my luggage and see a bunch of slot machines calling out for my money.  I become tempted at losing some, if not ALL of my savings at an airport slot machine.  I kept my cool and walked on by.   

We wait in line at the taxi stand and hand off our luggage to the taxi driver who placed them neatly in the car.   

We decided to stay at the Stratosphere.    

stratosphere

The Stratosphere

Well, I didn’t decide on anything, my friends decided for me.  They booked my flight and hotel room, made reservations for a few show’s and dinner at a fancy restaurant.  I did nothing and I feel like a dumbass because of it.  Even at the airport checking in and finding the right plane to board, I just followed everyone – standing where they told me to stand, sitting where they told me to sit.   

I have the mental out-look of if someone else is willing to do something for me – such as cook, drive, plan activities or something simple like tally up a restaurant check, I let them do it.  They obviously enjoy doing these things because why else would they offer?   

However, I can’t stay this way forever without feeling the repercussions.  For one, I feel completely useless, and another is that when I finally do offer up a suggestion, nobody seems to pay attention.  I need to become more of a take-charge kind of girl.  I need to travel alone to gain some confidence.   

We get to our hotel and check in (I don’t check in, my friends do it for me).  We had to get two rooms because there’s so many of us.  I was staying with Stephanie and her husband.  The other girls got stuck with a smelly room with a horrible view, so they made a $20 upgrade to a room upstairs.  So far my trip was not going well.  I had on a loose tank top that’s been hanging from me so much that my boobs were practically falling out.  I worn this top before without any problems so I wasn’t expecting this to happen.  Plus it was so hot and everyone was yapping away.  All I wanted to do was change my shirt and find somewhere to buy beer.  Beer was my main priority.   

I meet everyone downstairs in the casino.  They were already feeding money into the slots.  I watched them, looked around a little then became bored with myself all within a span of five minutes.  I went on the hunt for beer by asking random people where I can get some.  They all said the cheapest beer is found at walmart or walgreens, so I venture out with Holly, Stephanie, Brie and Lisa into the desert heat.  We walked for about three minutes until the girls got suckered into listening to a sales pitch about free shows and timeshares.  I had no interest in hearing their schpeal so I sat down and waited for them to finish.  20 minutes go by – I bought myself a pack of spirits, chatted with the guy selling them, chatted with another guy telling me not to look so bored and that I should sit on his lap.  I was about to go inside a bar when my friends tell me they were ready to start walking again.  Thank God.   

So far my trip sucks.  I been there for a few hours and still no beer, still no wild and crazy stories.  My mouth was as dry as the desert and I had no idea where I was walking to.   

We get to the worlds largest gift shop that connects to a liquor store.   

Them – “This isn’t where those guys told us to go.  They said this beer is expensive.”   

Me – “I don’t care, it’s still a liquor store, I’m going in.”   

So I go in and buy myself a 12 pack of bud light.  I kept asking everybody what they were going to buy for themselves, but nobody wanted to buy anything.  I had a feeling they were going to mooch off of my case, which they ended up doing when we got back to the casino.   

stratosphere   

We finish my case of beer and catch a cab to Freemont st.   

freemont st

Freemont st

neon cowboy

neon cowboy

They sell cheap cans of beer on the old Las Vegas strip and even give you a poor man’s beer-cozy.   

brown bag the can

Brown bag the can

freemont st   

A million dollars just out of my reach

freemont

Yet another beer

light show

The light show on Freemont

Neon cowgirl

Neon cowgirl

We get back to the hotel and all my friends go to sleep except for Stephanie’s friends from Minnesota whom I’ve never met before.  They adopt me into their little group for the night and I consume about 19 beers with them and make a complete ass of myself.  We were sitting at the lounge in the stratosphere.   

   

   

The lounge was a circle of table’s and chairs with a bar in the center.  The bar had video poker built into it.  I walked over to the bar and started humping one of the bar stools, then started to play the video poker game with my breasts.  My new friends were laughing hysterically and the bartender applauded me.   

We go to a dance club in our casino and I start pole dancing and break dancing.  I gracefully fell on my butt.  I got Marie, one of my new friends to come up and dance with me.  She did a split.   

   

They arrived in Vegas a few days before I did and said that the night I hung out with them was the funnest.  Unfortunately I drank so much during that first night that I was pooped for the rest of the trip.   

The next day my friends wake up wide-eyed-refreshed and went to the topless pool on the roof of the hotel.  I stayed in bed and watched the ‘I dream of Jeannie’ marathon.  I was very close to throwing up.   

That night we went to see a show called Thunder from Down under.   

thunder from down under

The long haired one on the left kissed me

I got pulled up on stage of course.  I liked the guy with the long hair, and because everything works out for me, he’s the one who pulled me up on stage.  He sat me in a rolling chair and gave me a lap dance, spun me around and ran my hands up and down his sweaty chest.  Then I flicked his nipples a few times because I didn’t know what else to do with them.  My friends said that was the best part.  He kissed me on the lips and he tasted like cherry chapstick.  I silently wondered if it works as a herpes blocker from all the strange girls (and guys?) he kisses in his act.  Can cherry chapstick count as an STD blocker?  I hope so for my sake.   

At some point that night I spun a huge slot maching and won $40.   

   

I don’t know what else happened that night.  I went to bed at a reasonable time and woke up early enough to join my friends at the topless pool.  All but two of them taken their tops off, and since I have a stigma about following the herd, I taken my top off as well.  I taken it off slowly trying to soak up the last few moments of feeling my shy girl inhibitions.  30 years old is a good time to let it all hang out.     

Being a massage therapist makes me feel like everyone has the same parts and there’s no good reason to hide them unless they are horribly disfigured or gangrened.  If I didn’t take my top off, I was afraid people would think I was hiding gangrene boobs or a fourth or fifth nipple.   

It was actually fun!  It wasn’t weird at all.  There wasn’t any ogling men by the pool side that creeped me out.  However, there were a couple old guys with beer bellies sporting little tiny penis slings.  I don’t know how else to describe them.  They are more revealing than speedo’s – having just a string up their butt attached to a ‘penis hammock’.   

We stayed in the pool for a very long time.  I floated around drinking beer and talking with people.   

I forgot which day it was, but we went to see Zumanity.  It’s a Cirque Du Soleil show.  A very sensual Cirque Du Soleil show.  Mostly everyone was naked during it.  A very funny transsexual was the host.  It was absolutely hysterical!  If you’re having trouble deciding on what show to see in Vegas, I highly recommend Zumanity.   

   

These two women did some crazy back flips inside a tiny fish bowl.   

What else can I say about Vegas?    

We ate at this fancy restaurant called the Bouchon at the Venetian.  Holly knew someone who knew someone that worked there so we were able to get free champagne and an appetizer.   

the bouchon in vegas

The Bouchon in Vegas

But figuring out who owed what was still an ordeal.  I had someone add up my portion of the bill, it’s less confusing for me that way.  And I wanted to leave the table before any tempers flared.   

figuring out the bill at Bouchon

the ceiling of the venetian

The painted ceiling at the Venetian

venetian

Fancy, fancy hotel lobby

After dinner we wasted $14 on a gondola ride that I knew was going to suck.  Our “Italian” guide had on a cheesy red and white striped shirt and sang to us with a garbled larangitis voice.  He drifted us around a small pool for five minutes.  At least there was a duck.   

gondella ride   

My last night in Vegas was the worst.  We spent most of the night trying to figure out how to stay an extra day which made one of my friends very upset because she just wanted to go home.  It was horrible! This was another instance in which I felt completely useless.  My friends were talking non-stop, making plans, talking to airline people and front desk people while I just followed them around helpless.  We couldn’t switch our flight without doling out an extra $240 each, so we said, “fuck it.” Then we went to eat fatty food at McDonalds at 2 in the morning.  Everyone went to bed except Kristina and I.  We played blackjack, I lost $30, then I bet my remaining $35 on black and won.   

I forgot to tell you about the homeless man at the bus stop.  I was sitting on a railing by myself while Kristina was off to the side talking on her cell phone.  A homeless man walked up to me and asked for a cigarette.  His arm was all wrapped up in bandages and a few of his fingers were visible.  They were swollen and discolored with rotten fingernails hanging off.  His face was the scariest.  He had a pushed in nose , he didn’t have many teeth left and his skin was red, scaly and oily.  He wouldn’t leave me alone.   

He smiled at me and called me beautiful.  This was a destitute guy who had nothing to lose – hanging on his last thread of life.  Fight Club popped into my mind.  When Ed Norton beat up Jared Leto because he felt like destroying something beautiful.  I hopped off the rail because I thought he might push me off.  He finally sauntered off without ever touching me.

I’m beat.  I haven’t been home much since I got back from Vegas.  Today I went to lunch with Brie and Holly, then to Cheshire coffee with Kristina and Brie for about 6 hours, now I’m at Dan’s house with Kristina.  She’s cooking me dinner again.  She cooked me dinner last night.  And in about an hour I have to catch a late movie with Oriana to see the Expendables. 

The WordPress spell check is acting weird, I can’t check my spelling and I’m tired.  Sorry if this well-anticipated Las Vegas post didn’t live up to expectation, but I been a little distracted while writing it.

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Last day before vacation

I have three more clients and then I’m off to pack. 

It’s absolutely fantastic outside and I already gave three overly spectacular massages accounting for three mucho generoso tips.  Life is good at this very pinnacle point in time while sitting at my tiny wobbly starbucks table over-looking the plaza.

A woman is outside picking up litter and placing it in the trash.  I LOVE YOU TRASH LADY!

There’s an old man sitting next to me reading the paper.  I LOVE YOU NEWSPAPER MAN!  But if I saw you picking up litter like the trash lady, I would love you even MORE.

I am sublimely tired.  Why am I so tired?  I thought I went to bed early enough.  Oh well, I’m tired and there’s not a damn thing that can be done about it except to live vicariously through the clients I put to sleep.

Three more, just three more.

I started out with three people on the books today, and now I’m up to six because I’m freaking awesome.

I’m going to go to bed at 7 p.m tonight.  Yes.  7 p.m.  That way I get all the sleep I need so I won’t have to waste time sleeping in Vegas.

I’ve been going to bed way too late and desperately need to catch up. 

I zoned out on my way to work today and when I snapped out of it, I was all the way in Hartford.  I missed my exit by a landslide.  I started sweating bullets, lit up another smoke and flew down 95 in my Pop’s truck that he so kindly entrusted me with.  I arrived at work just in time to see that my client wasn’t scheduled to arrive just yet.  I risked life and limb for nothing.  But I live life on the edge.  Always have, always will.  Yep.  Renegade.

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I got the Gold

I am now a highly exclusive Gold card club member.  I can tell people truthfully that I carry around a prestigious Gold card only held exclusively by preferred customers.  They don’t need to know that I’m talking about the Starbucks rewards card.  Gold is gold no matter where you spend your money. 

So there’s that accomplishment…….

There used to be a young pretty girl working with us at ME.  She recently quit and all her clients are being divvied up amongst us.  This one guy a few months ago requested a young attractive therapist – they put him with Ashley and they been together ever since.  I think I massaged this guy yesterday.  His chart said he been there for a few months, always requested Ashley – wanting a light touch, relaxation massage.

He puts the therapists looks ahead of their ability to give a decent massage (I’m sure Ashley gives a great massage, but that’s not the point).  I rely on my ability, not about how good looking I am.  It was like I was preparing to go on a blind date with the guy.

When I first greeted him in the tranquillity room, I couldn’t tell if he was upset or pleased to see me.  I am a plain Jane.  The plainest of the plain.  Even my Mother called me a plain Jane.  I don’t make myself up to look attractive, especially at work.  So I was relieved when the massage was over and he said that I was his new best friend. 

Now I’m not only a Gold card member, but also apart of the beautiful people club!  He gave me the nod of approval.  It could have been my boobs that won him over.  But hey, that has to count for something, right?

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Uncategorized

Morning time

I was in a dead sleep at 9 a.m Monday morning.  I was sweating during the night and must have strewn the covers onto the floor.  I was sprawled out on the bed taking up every inch of my mattress.

Then my Dad wakes me up. “Are you up?  You have to clean out your car.  I don’t want you to look like a slob.”

My bedroom door was closed- thank goodness because I lost my pants sometime during the night.

“Okay, okay I’m up.”

We were towing my car over to my dad’s friends house who fixes cars on the side.  He gotten a lot of business from me over the years.

I find my pants, slid on some flip-flops and grabbed an empty plastic grocery bag and cleaned out my car.  I left the half empty water bottles (in case I get thirsty), my blankets, my hoodie jacket and a small box of emergency tampons on the floor in the front seat.

I go back into my bedroom and back to sleep.

“Clean your car!  It’s still a mess.  Stop looking like a slob!”

He’s yelling at me again from outside my bedroom door.

“Okay, okay, I’m up, Jeez.  You want me to vacuum it too?”

“No just clean it up.”

“But I need all those things in there.”  I was groggy and half awake.

This time I throw out my water bottles and I shoved my tampons in the glove compartment.  I went back into my room, laid down, and sure enough a few minutes later I hear my dad outside my door.

“It’s still a mess.”

Ugh….

My parents own a cadillac and ever since I can remember, they always kept their car immaculate.  Yesterday my dad had to pick up the caddy from his friend’s house who washed, waxed and detailed it.  My dad needed me to drive his truck back home.

It was around 9 am Tuesday morning.  I was in a dead, sweaty, narcoleptic sleep.  Covers were once again strewn about and my pants were M.I.A.

“Wake up!  I need you to pick up the car with me.”

“I’m up, I’m up.”

I found my pants, slipped on some flip-flops and at the last minute decided to put on a bra.  My pajama’s smelled pretty bad cause I’ve been sweating in them so much the past few nights, but I didn’t care.  My dad thinks I’m a slob anyway.

I go to meet him at the front door.  He looks at me, then at my feet, then at me again and says, “you can’t drive in those.  Go put on some shoe’s.”

“But I always drive in these.  What’s wrong with flip-flops?”

“Just change them.”

And so I changed them.  This was the first time driving my dad’s truck.  He’s letting me use it until I get my little escort back.  He warned me against smoking in it and taking it anywhere other than work.  Today I smoked in it, talked on the phone, and I may take it to Billy O’s today after work.

Billy O’s is a bar that a lot of my old-time acquaintances frequent.

“No taking it to Cherry O’s.”  He calls Billy O’s, Cherry O’s cause he has trouble remembering things.

I love my dad.  I probably just made him sound like a hard-ass in this post, but he’s really not.  I feel bad for breaking his car etiquette rules.

I gotta get back to work.  Three more to go then I’m off to Cherry O’s!

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