Tag Archives: Melanie

Oh Groupon..

Down a dark deserted hallway

There’s a small windowless room

Where Melanie the Masseuse lies encased in her tomb

Century’s passed since she last uttered a word

Era’s gone by and she has not stirred

She lies there dreaming of a life that once was

Memories are sharp

Digging around with their claws

Being cryogenically frozen in space and time

Her lips and skin blue

Hair matted down like glue

She lays there awake

Her mind never off

She see’s only the darkness behind

an old linen cloth 

The hallway outside brightens and buzzes

The flourescent lights turning on

Her ears perk up

She hushes

“What’s going on?  What’s happening out there?”

Rolling down her cheek is a lonesome frightful tear.

Someone rambles in

her chambers where she lies within

“Hello?  Is someone there?”

Her chin

Quiverin’

“It’s just me your next client.  Do not be alarmed, I’m compliant.

Your clients await you, they’re filing in by the masses.

So get up my dear friend, 

Get up and massage 400 asses.”

I’m waiting for my next client.  It’s 11:09.  She’s late.  Damn.  I hate calling people.  I’ll wait until 11:15, than I’ll call her.

I wrote that ode in the 20 minutes I’ve been sitting here waiting.

Tick tock

Tick tock

Sonuva…

It’s a dark rainy day here on October 12th

It’s payday from Groupon

Now aint that just swell – th

I like getting money instead of waiting in the dark

Being frozen in time, eating up minutes like a shark

Ahhh What am I saying?

Shit where is this lady.

It’s not a lady, it’s a man and I got his voice mail.  This is not good.  I need to be fully booked everyday 6 days a week cause you know why?  You want to know why?  Because I’m pretty much screwed in the ass otherwise.

I’m not just massaging 400 asses – it’s a lot more than that.  A shit ton more.

Groupon wanted to sell a package deal – buy 3 massages for $100.  I get $17.50 a massage plus tip, so I said sure sounds great.

Besides, most people will opt for the one hour.  Buying 3 sessions to get a rub down by someone you don’t know is highly unlikely.  Well, Groupon took it upon themselves to “sell out” of the 60 and 90 minute massage options.  How can you sell out of massages?

I found this out from two of my clients.

“Really?  I had no idea they did that.  How would I sell out of massages?”

So last night I looked online and saw how many of the package deals I sold.  I want to cry.  I want to cry, weep, wither and die.  I want to stick Groupon with a sharp pointy stick in their eye.

I sold 200 of the buy 3 deal.  200!  200 X 3 = well, you do the math.  I have to give 800 massages within the next 5 months.  Break that down day by day that’s 5 clients a day if I work 7 days a week.  5 clients a day, and then I’m getting repeat full priced clients on top of that.

I’m fuuuuuuucked.  Fucked.  Hence the poem.  I am so freaking out right now.  I’m calling Groupon, screw it.  I’m calling them right now.

Damn I’m on hold.  It’s 11:39.  Let’s see how long it takes for them to pick up.

I feel like I’m going to shit my pants.

I desperately need a desk in here.  My back doesn’t hurt after a day a massaging, it only hurts when I type in my blog.  I’m hunched over with the Mac in my lap.  Ouch.  A tv tray is no desk.  It’s not tall enough.

11:42

What song is this?  Is it supposed to keep me calm?  It’s not working.

11:48.  I just got off the phone with them.   The private sale in now turned off – thank the lord Jesus.  I only had 24 more to sell before reaching 400, but 24 x 3 = Well, you do the math.  I’m bad at it.

I’ll be okay.  Everything will be okay.  I’m making money, this is a good thing.  It’s what I wanted.  And selling on Groupon requires a huge price in advertising, so I’ll be able to deduct my losses as a business expense – I won’t have to pay much at all for taxes next year.

Instead of getting an accountant to deal with everything, I’m learning how to do it all myself.  I studied the different options, weighed the pro’s and con’s and opted for a sole proprietorship.  It’s versatile and also allows for health insurance deductions.   I won’t have to pay a dime in health insurance.  The massage association offers a plan to insured practitioners, so that’s on my to-do list.

Think about it, why pay an accountant when I can take that money and donate it to charity instead and in the process teach myself the in’s and out’s of the tax world.

I bought Turbo Tax software for sole proprietorship from Amazon for $8.  Laziness is the bane of all human existence.  I’m trying to do the opposite.

Damn I need a desk.  Shit yo.

I’m going to read a little and lay on my back on my Spoonk mat.

spoonk mat

Click on the image if you want one.

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Odes, rant

Another day another back rub

My last client was a little strange.  She’s an older woman, and one of those people who like a painfully deep massage.  She gave me a hug when it was over and didn’t want to let go.  She kept rubbing my back.  Not patting, but rubbing.  My brow furrowed and my eyes wondered around the room asking the question, “is this weird?”

She asked me a few questions and stared at me.

Her – “Who takes care of you?”

Me – “Um….”

I was about to say my parents take care of me, but that didn’t seem like the right response.  I spot my back buddy (a device used to massage my own back) and snatched it up.

Me – “My back buddy.  It works really well.  I don’t have enough time to get massages these days.”

She stared at me smiling.

I started using my back buddy.

Me – “….”

More staring.

Me – “It really works.”

Me – “I’m eating sushi for lunch.  I try to take care of myself.”

She rummaged around in her purse.

Me thinking “Oh good please pull out tip money and not a business card.”

She handed me a business card.

Her – “You should come see me.  I’m right down the street in Middletown.  I’ll give you a reflexology session on the house.”

My ears perk up whenever I hear the words “on the house.”

Me – “Oh thank you so much.  I’ll definitely come see you.  Thanks.”

She hugged me again.

Her – “That was wonderful what you did.”

She was referring to the massage.

When I give a massage, I like to make contact with the persons hands to form a connection.  And it feels really nice and comforting while I’m massaging their inner forearm.  It’s the only part of the massage where an intimate professional bond can be formed.  25% of men (possibly more), like to grasp my hand and hold it.  Sometimes caressing it, which sketches me out, but it’s usually innocent.  With women it’s more like 5% (if that).  She was a hand holder.

I never had reflexology before, and she didn’t leave me a tip so I feel like I should go do it.  Is this a bad idea?  I don’t know.  It was weird, you’re just going to have to trust me on that.

After the massage, I went into the break room for a little sushi lunch.  I ate a couple pieces and looked at the time.  12:30.  I’ll be here until 8:30 tonight.  I left the remainder of my sushi to save it for later.  I have to make it stretch.  My next client doesn’t get here until 2:30, so here I am blogging.  It’s 1:02 now.

I guess I should read a little.

After ordering business cards from Vista Print, they show you a bunch of little add-on’s you can choose from for cheap.  One of these add-on’s were stickers.  So I bought a bunch of stickers for my clients to stick on after getting a massage.

I found it ingenious.  I only offer them to tippers.

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Strange & Unusual

Oh Dave….

I met Dave at Billy O’s last night.  He was a big drunken mess.  When I first spotted him sitting there by himself on the bar stool, I felt like a fool for meeting him out.  This isn’t my life anymore.  Drinking and getting drunk served its purpose and now’s the time to get it together.

Dave was not together.  He was slurring his words, hair all disheveled, falling off the bar stool and dropping stuff.  To me, he seemed depressed.  Why else would someone do this to themselves unless they’re madly depressed?

He was driving his motorcycle.

Me – “Are you serious Dave?  How can you do this?  You’re going to AA classes and here you are like this.”

Dave – “I’m responsible.  I’m this close to being an adult.”

He held his two fingers close together.

Me – “No you’re not.  You can’t drive.”

In the not so distant past, I was with Dave at the beginning of each drunken night.  I was right there beside him having a blast and getting shit faced and then we would both drive off on his motorcycle to our next destination.  I was a fool back then.  I lost count how many times we driven drunk like that.  Me on the back of his bike, my foot scraping the pavement when he leaned over a little too far.

Dave – “You okay?”

Me – “Yeah, that was a close one though.”

He shot his gun outside my car window while I was driving.  We were running parallel next to a lake, beyond the lake was a town.  Dave fired his gun towards the lake and I closed my eyes hoping he was aiming at the water and not the town.

He does hard drugs – the ones I stay away from, and gets in fights with people over the drugs thinking that they are cheating him out of his portion.

I had to blow into his breathalyzer attached to his truck because he was too drunk to do it.  The truck would not start otherwise.  Then I had to repeatedly blow into the breathalyzer while he was driving.

He used Heather like a slab of roast beef, he’s still banging an emotionally inept girl (yesterday) and now he’s slapping his animal salami with my friend who likes the attention from guys.  She met us at the bar last night and I was glad to see her, glad she was there.  I was hoping she would take him home with her so I wouldn’t have to be the one to worry about him.  I’m not one to babysit.  My one harshness in me is not helping others who don’t help themselves.  Their problems are not my concern – it’s up to them to fix their own shit.

But then I had the added concern of him getting touchy feely with me while my friend whom he let’s play with his skin flute is standing right there to witness it.

Dave – “Give me a hug Melanie.  Come on give me a hug.”

His arms outstretched with a big goofy grin on his face.

Mel – “Okay.  There you go – Yay a friend hug.”

I patted his back.  He hugged me tight and didn’t want to let go.

My friends from long ago were there.  They are good friends, but the kind you don’t call or see much, but we go way back.  One of them was giving me the eye.  He had a look of confused disgust on his face.  I saw him looking at me and I read his mind.

His mind – “Why are you with that loser?”

I lifted my eyebrows and shrugged  to say “yeah I know, I don’t get it either…”

Almost the entire bar dislikes Dave.  They hate seeing him with me.  The bartender doesn’t like him, Amy doesn’t want anything to do with him.

She’s showing me his true colors.  Kristie tried showing me his true colors, but I was blind and didn’t want to hear it.  I’m a loyal good friend to have so I try to stay impartial in arguments amongst friends.

However, I like Amy.  I like her a lot and so I’m listening to her.  She know’s a lot of shit and my brother knows a lot of shit, so together they’re making me see.  Amy is the same age as my brother, so it’s like I have two older siblings looking out for me, not just one.

I’m stuck.  I hate abandoning people.  Dave’s hazardous to himself and to others, but as my role as his friend, should I help him?  Is he calling out for help?  I can’t just turn away when things get serious – when there really is a problem to deal with.  I know what it’s like being abandoned, and its a wretched feeling.  Both emotionally and physically, it’s a feeling of complete wretchedness.

So, I don’t know.  I’ll just keep it at that for now.  It’s not like I can see Dave that much anymore anyway.  I wish I didn’t go out last night because even with the little amount of alcohol I drank, I still feel like crap today.  I feel like crap and I’m in a crappy mood.

It’s now the next day.  The cleaning lady was here last night.  I was giving a girl a massage at around 8pm and we could both hear the cleaning lady outside the door huffing and puffing and swearing to herself.

Me – “Oh, sorry about that.  The cleaning lady is grouchy.”

We both start laughing.  Every time we heard a grumble, we broke out in laughter.  It feels so good to laugh about it.  At least now I’m not the only one who see’s it.

I feel great today.  I went home after work, played a little Skyrim and fell asleep at 11:30 like a normal person.  I can’t drink anymore like I used to.  I feel wonderful and I’m making my clients feel wonderful.  And I’m figuring out a plan of attack when dealing with my budget.  I have to stop spending.  It’s only the first month, so I have no idea how much I’m actually making in comparison to how much I can spend.  I need to talk to an accountant, get my taxes figured out, file away my receipts, and set up a daily budget.  Now’s the time to do it.  Once that’s configured, I can spend without worry – one less thing to worry about.

I’ll get home tonight at a reasonable hour, so I can clean out my closet.  I’m looking forward to it like you would not believe.  I’m weird like that.  I just bought myself a new pair of awesome leather boots for the winter, but I don’t have any room for them.  I need to make room for the things I love.  It’s a feng shui thing.  If you make room for the things you love, you’ll receive more of it.

Whats in my car right now?

A 4 inch twin size memory foam mattress topper

2 platypus water bottles

A lamp

A handy dry bag to store a roll of toilet paper in for camping trips

Roller blades

Jacket

Blankets

Old straw hat

Socks

Grocery bags

Garbage and lots of it

I also need to clear out my car.  I love Esmeralda the Escort, I need to take care of her better.

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Filed under journal, Massage therapy

What I’m bringing to the Annapurna Circuit

hiking way - escursionisti

Image via Wikipedia

This is my Nepal prepping / packing list.  Its goes astray from my normal skrewy posts about my everyday antics.  You can skip it without missing much.

In three days I’m leaving to go to Nepal for a month.  Twenty of those days are going to be spent trekking the Annapurna Circuit.  If you’re planning a similar trip, here’s a few things you need to do before you leave.

Go to a travel clinic.  The doctor will give you vaccines for Typhoid and Hep A.  He will give you a certificate (if you don’t already have one) proving that you been vaccinated.  Bring the certificate with you on your trip.  He will also give you a prescription for Cipro – if you don’t have insurance, get the generic ciproflaxacin.  If you get sick off of contaminated water, it kills the bacteria in your body.  Ciproflaxacin costs $22.  Typhoid and hep A are both under $100 (although I’m unsure because I haven’t gotten the bill yet).

Oh and make sure you’re set up for automatic bill pay at your bank so you won’t have to worry about late payments on anything.

Get travel insurance.  I got mine from worldnomads.com and opted for the Explorer package.  It’s $114 for three weeks.  Print out the certificate of insurance and take it with you.

Next is my packing list.

I never trekked before or been on any long hikes.  I had zero equipment, so I had to buy everything brand new.  I bought most of my items on Amazon, cause, well, Amazon rocks!

I bought the Kelty Trekker 3950 on Amazon for $110 free shipping.  It’s light weight and perfect for the trip.  It has a compartment for a camelbak and a hole for the hose – very convenient!

I added a few reflectors to it.  You should add reflectors to your pack even if it’s just to spot it easier in the airport luggage rack.

I bought my boots at EMS.  Eastern Mountain Sports = big bucks.  Fortunately for me they were having a clearance sale that week.  I’m seriously a lucky bitch sometimes.  So I bought these Bad Mamma Jammas:

I didn’t even have to look at any other boot.  I made eye contact with them and it was love at first sight.  I love the color!  They are boots fit for a sexy anime character.  That’s the look I’m going for – sexy anime Melanie.  The guy at the store talked me into buying inserts called happy feet.  They’re good for my goofy flat feet, but they set me back $40.  I also bought memory foam antibacterial inserts to go on top of my happy feet inserts ($10).  So basically, I went all out for my delicate tootsies.

For socks I spent $120 on 6 pairs of liner socks and 3 pairs of smartwool socks.  I couldn’t find a cheaper deal anywhere.

When trekking the Himalayas, the weather varies from subtropical to subzero depending on what altitude you’re in.  Packing light is crucial for a trek like this, but also tricky to find clothes that are both breathable and warm.

I’m going to Nepal in March.  From what I read on the net, temp ranges from 0 to 68 Fahrenheit.  Wicking shirts and layers are a must.

I bought 3 short sleeve wicking shirts, 2 thin long sleeve and 2 heavy long sleeve.  This may be too many to carry, but I haven’t figured out which one’s I should leave out.  Nah screw it, I’ll just take them all.  I’m also bringing a windbreaker that crushes up nicely into my pack.

For pants, you really only need one pair.  I’m bringing the kind that can turn into shorts by zipping off the legs.  Most outdoor places sell them.  I’m also bringing one heavy and one light thermal long underwear.  The heavy thermos can double for jammies and I’ll only wear them during the day for the high altitude hikes.

Most of my clothes are shoved into dry packs that I can compress down into a manageable size.

I’m bringing 6 pairs of underwear rolled up and shoved in a ziplock bag (also compressible).

Two sports bra’s

Glove liners and wool fingerless gloves that convert into mittens.  Mittens are warmer than gloves, but I have my fingers if I need them.

A small winter hat.  I’m debating if I should bring my wool hat, but it’s so bulky.

Neck tube/face mask

Travel journal and Pen

Moleskin for blisters

Sleeping pills

Sleeping bag, sleeping bag liner.  The tea houses have blankets, but they are primary used by the porters.  The porters will give up their blanket for you, but they will get sick and we don’t want that.  However, I won’t be hiring a porter, so maybe I can use their blanket?

Quick dry travel towel

A trowel.  I hope I don’t need it.

6 peel and stick body warmers that last all day.

Travel medic kit

Eat’N Tool

Lemon-lime sport drink tablets

A few packets of Vplenish vitamin boost

A hanky for my nose

A little thing of tissues

Hand sanitizer!  This is a must if you don’t want to get sick.

A small water filter that immediately filters water.  $50 EMS.

Head lamp

Sodium Chlorite tablets for water.  This woman I talked to says they work great but take four hours to kick in – hence the water filter.

An LCD flashlight keychain

Extra cord

One liter platypus bottle with hose

One liter Nalgene bottle

Sunscreen

Moisturizer

Chapstick

Hot topic’s dry shampoo.  This stuff works and I never seen it sold anywhere else.  It’s only $8.

A little spray bottle of Rosewater.  It’s multipurpose.  Works as a disinfectant and deodorizer.  Works on cuts and scrapes, too.

My coolpix camera

My Ipod Nano and Iphone (for music)

Headphones

4 extra batteries

Earplugs

Cloth tape for my toes.  I may need to wrap them to prevent blisters.  I thought of this myself and not sure if it’s normally something trekkers do.

Compressed, biodegradable baby wipes

Stuff for my period

I’m bringing 20 playtex sport body wipes

Travel deodorant

Shampoo / body wash

Toothbrush / toothpaste

Razor.  Because I can’t stand hairy armpits!

Comb

Sandels

Pocket mirror

Tweezers

Pomegranate flavored fiber packets

My nana’s old whistle

I’m a smoker, but switched to electronic cig’s 8 months ago.  Since I can’t bring them, I’m bringing a tobacco pipe.  It’s cool looking.

Waterproof matches

A sun hat

Sunglasses

Pancho

Small book for rainy days

Altimeter

A bunch of carbiners

I’m going to get two hiking poles in Katmandu and a down jacket.  You can actually buy everything you need in Katmandu, but I’m a newbie world traveler, so I like to arrive already prepared.  One of the girls I’m going with is getting her vaccines in Katmandu.  That’s a little too brave for my Connecticut blood.

I think that’s it.  It sounds like a lot, but my pack is still not very heavy.  That’s why I won’t need a porter.  A porter would laugh at my pack if they had to carry it!  Did you know that their cargo can also consist of people?!  They carry people on their backs!  Not in a rickshaw, but in an actual basket attached to their back.  I’m hoping to take a pic of one.

Whew, okay I’m done with my list.  Now I can relax.  I was packing as I made the list, so I’m all set.

You can rent a locker in Katmandu or another town similar to store everything you won’t need for your trek.  Like souvenirs and extra clothes.

By the way, I really don’t know what I’m doing.  I’m no expert, but soon will be!

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Filed under Annapurna Circuit, Travel

My paranoid drug trip story

I work with this crazy girl, Sarah.  She likes to go out almost every night, meet people, get hammered, stoned, screwed, what-have-y0u.  On occasion, I like to accompany her on one of these wild nights out.   I only do this on occasion because every time I wake up hung-over, my brain resets.  I fall into recovery mode, forgetting everything that I’m working on.  I fade into the backdrop, I drop to ground zero.

The empty void in me fills with exhaustion and when the exhaustion fades, the void needs to be filled back up.  And me being at ground zero, it’s easiest to fill it with booze.  It’s a cataclysmic cycle of deterioration.

My future and life become a dusty rolodex of unfulfilled possibilities.

That’s what happens when I’m hungover.  I reset.

Anywho, (sorry for the ramble tangent) Sarah wanted to go to Sully’s, a tiki torch tropic-looking bar in Hartford.  I invited Joel to come along.

I met him across the street from my house at Cheshire pizza.  He introduced me to 4 or 5 of his friends who were all older and very fond of him.  All of them sat at the bar, 7 o’clock on a Friday night.  It felt like home.

After some lollygagging, we went to pick Sarah up.  We got to her place late and found her completely passed out on the couch in her pajama’s.

Sarah’s crazy.  She drank an entire bottle of Jack and had about 6 or 7 beers with her neighbor who was already tucked away in his bed.

She wakes up and insists that she’s fine.  Then she offered us pot.

Me – “Sure I’ll take a hit.  Just one though, I’m a lightweight.”

Joel – “No thanks, I’m driving.”

I take a hit, hand the bowl back to Sarah who takes a hit and passes it back to me.

Me – “Oh no no, I only wanted one hit.”

Sarah – “Aww come on, it’s a little bowl – not much is in there.  Just do it, come on, just do it.”

I hit off it again, leaned back in the comfy armchair and waited a few seconds.  Then I felt it.  I knew immediately that it was not good pot – it was the kind of pot I had in high school – the kind that made me paranoid.

I felt a cold wash over my chest.

I knew that it was imperative that I stayed aware of my thoughts, but not attach myself to them – just witness them float in and out.  I had to remember that they’re not real thoughts.  They were paranoid delusions that don’t exist.  Except for the cold feeling spreading over my chest, that was real.  I read a little about it and it happens when you’re anxious – but I wasn’t anxious, just seconds ago I was happy.   My guess is that it was adrenaline and cortisol shooting thru my system – a reaction to the laced pot.

Me – “Oh shit.  This is the paranoid stuff.  Not mellow.  Not mellow.”

Joel – “Was that stuff harsh you gave her?”

Sarah smiles and nods her head.

I felt the muscles tighten in my jaw.  I was aware of every muscle fiber in the lower half of my face.

My thoughts – “Am I clenching my jaw?  Are my teeth going to chip?  I’ve never noticed my jaw muscles before.  Joel is laughing at Sarah, does he like her more than me?  Joel hates me.  He disowned me for 6 years so of course he hates me.  Okay, stop thinking stop thinking stop thinking.  You’re clenching your jaw again Melanie, relax!”

The whole night went on like this.  When you’re on a paranoid trip, it’s easy to start fights with people.  Every word that almost escaped my lips ranked with venom.  It was my body reacting, not my mind.  I was still in control of myself as long as I stayed focused.  I had to disconnect.  There was no other solution.

Joel sped us to Sully’s in his Mini Cooper and blasted some awesome tunes.

We seemed to arrive there instantaneously.  We decided to go to Sully’s, then when I opened my eyes again, we were there.

I go up to the bouncer and stare at him.

Bouncer – “That’ll be five bucks.”

Joel pay’s for me.  I still stand there in front of the bouncer staring at him.

Bouncer – “And some ID please.”

I give it to him, he hands it back and I wait for my next order.  I look up at him expectantly.

Bouncer – “I’m done with you, you’re all set.”

I stand off to the side.

We go into the bar and start drinking and dancing.

Than I see Sarah throwing herself at Joel.

Sarah – “Let’s hang out tomorrow.  What are you doing tomorrow?  Want to do shrooms?”

Joel – “Let’s see what Mel is up to first.”

Sarah – “The hell with her, fuck her, let it just be the two of us.”

My thoughts – “Okay, is this the paranoia or is it legit to take offense to that?  Either way is it worth me getting upset?  No.  No, it’s okay, I’ll go along with it.”

Me – “Yeah, fuck me, you don’t need me.”  I smile and wave my hand dismissively.

She smoked the same stuff I did, so I gave her the benefit and permission to say anything she wanted all night without hearing any reprove from me.

I was well-behaved, very well-behaved and tried to enjoy everyone’s company and waited patiently for the drug to fade.

You’re not going to believe this, but it didn’t fade until 3:30 p.m the next day.  I had to work at 12.  I was a nervous train wreck during the first three clients.

My thoughts while giving a massage – “You can do this Mel, just do it.  Get through the day.  Only four more clients left, you got it girl!  What if I shit my pants right now?  Is that a side effect to smoking laced pot?  To shit oneself?  It’s a side effect from the Olestra in a bag of Fritto’s – I smoked laced pot!  So much worse than a Fritto!  Oh no, did I just shit myself?  Did I?  Can I do that just by thinking about it?”

It was bad.  Bad, bad , bad.  3:30 came around and I was starting to feel like myself.  And no I did not shit myself.

Back to the bar; Joel, I’m not positive, but I think he wanted to escape Sarah.  He led me up to the top floor of the outside patio and we sat on a little bench and talked.  He did most of the talking, I took it all in and listened.  I felt everything he was describing like he was peeling back my own hidden layers.  It was crazy!  Damn, I wish I remembered what he said.

Before I got stoned, I had my own little epiphany that I wanted to jot down for memory storage.  My epiphany linked into what he was talking about, so I shared it with him.

Me – “I’m afraid to be happy.  I figured out why and it’s because of my fear of death.  To me, being happy is linked to death and I’m afraid to die.”

I was stoned and knew that I had to start making sense fast before I lose Joel forever.

Me – “It’s just that when I’m happy – I mean REALLY happy – I’m scared to die, or get sick and lose everything.  When I’m happy, I never want it to end.  When I’m miserable, it makes death more bearable.  I’m not scared when I’m miserable.”

Joel – “Wow.  That’s really profound.”

I bet if I let a psychologist read my blog, he’d prescribe me a lifetime supply of Xanax.  Huh, not a bad idea actually.  Maybe I can get free Xanax if I list one of their ad’s on here.

In other news, I have not heard back from Uconn, so I applied to Manchester community college.  I have to say that this college is immaculate!  It’s pristine and huge with well-manicured grounds for organized sports teams – inside the building has fresh paint on the walls, no trash or stains anywhere – and everyone is nice!  It’s the opposite of Gateway community college.  Gateway looks like a storage shed compared to this place and the gateway’s admissions lady was  kind of bitchy.  Their campus grounds consists of a muddy potholed riddled parking lot.

It’s so clean and big and new there.  They have free computers set up, a book shop, a library, cafe.

If I go there for two years to study liberal arts and science and maintain a 3.0, I’m granted automatic acceptance into Yale.  Wouldn’t that be something?  I barely graduated high school and I’ve been a drunk waitress well into my twenties.  I’m poor.  Well, poor for Cheshire.  Me?  Go to Yale?  I don’t think so.  Ha ha ha.

I’m actually wearing a Yale sweatshirt now.  I got it close to 10 years ago at the Yale gift shop.  I’m wearing my 10-year-old Yale gift shop sweatshirt, sitting in my bedroom typing away and listening to my parents argue upstairs.  At this moment, I’m not afraid of death.

I need to take a drive down to Uconn’s Waterbury campus.  That’s where I initially applied to (online).  If their campus sucks, I’m not going there.

What else do I have to say?  I don’t know, I think that’s it for now.  Oh no wait, one last thing.  When I was stoned, Joel started talking about music, and a tv show.  I could hear the music he was referring to –  I knew the muscian that played the music as if I read his bio – and when Joel was talking about a tv show, I felt that I’ve already seen it.  I kept all this to myself.  It sounds too crazy, even for me.

I had a similar experience when I smoked with my cousin.  I could visualize tv shows as if I seen them myself.  But I never knew I could hear music.

When I’m stoned, I gain a limited form of telapathy.

Okay, I’m done for now.  And I’m pretty sure I’m done with pot too.

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My Sunday, Monday and Tuesday

Is it just me, or does everyone have a creepy cousin that goes to every family function? The guy who wears a fall jacket in the summer. The cousin who started asking you out on dates when you were 14, and he was like, 30. Doesn’t everyone have a cousin like that?

I have a cousin like that. He was born with some weird illness that affects about one in a billion people, so he can get away with being creepy. And I’m not allowed to comment on his creepiness without getting yelled at.

Cousin – “So, Melanie, where you been? Where’s your new hang out? Do you still hang out at the truck stop? What music do you listen to these days?”

Me – “Uhhh…..I uhhh….”

Aunt Betty- “Melanie! Can you get me some corn?”

This picnic was for the italian side of my family – all my mom’s aunt’s and uncle’s. I call them pepperoni eaters because they love all kinds of salty meats so much so that they all end up dying of strokes or heart attacks.

Aunt Rosemary – “Me too, I want a corn.”

When I was younger, there were only about two or three immobile aunts and uncles that had a hard time navigating their bodies through the chairs and picnic tables to get to the buffet – the younger generation had to wait on them. But time’s have changed, people got older, so now it’s all of them that can’t navigate easily.

I felt like Charlie from Willy Wonka and The chocolate factory where all his relatives stayed in one big bed all day never to get up, and little Charlie had to do everything.

My uncle Jim raises his fingers up – “Five, we need five all together.”

Aunt Betty – “With butter.”

I was thankful to get away from creepy cousin.

When I gave everybody their corn on the cob, apparently I didn’t put enough of butter on them.

Aunt Betty – “This isn’t dripping with butter. There isn’t any butter on this.”

Thankfully my cousin Christina shows up.

Christina – “Hey doll, there you are!”

She gives me a big hug. We always got along like BFF’s.

Me, Christina and my cousin, Mary, sneak away from the prying eyes of our elder’s to have a smoke. I walked to my car to fetch my cigarettes and creepy cousin followed me.

He looked in my car and saw the two over-flowing garbage bags full of books spilling out onto the back seat.

Creepy cousin – “What are you doing with all those books?”

Me – “I have to donate them to the library. They’re book’s I’ll never read again. You can help yourself.”

I left him alone to rummage around in the junk pile in my car, and joined Mary and Christina.

Mary – “So, is it true you said you went to Japan but really went some place else?”

Me – “What? How do you know I went some place else?”

Mary – “My dad told me.”

Me – “Really!? Oh man how does your dad know?”

Mary – “I don’t know, he just does.”

Christina starts laughing – “Your parents didn’t want you to end up in Broken down Palace.”

Me – “I went to South Korea. It’s safe. I don’t think my mom know’s yet. She keeps asking me questions about Japan and she’s still telling people I went there. She was telling everyone today that I went there.”

Mary and Christina laugh. I don’t know why, but all my friends and family think that lying to my parents about my travel destination is one hilarious, never ending joke.

After our cigarettes, I go to leave and my creepy cousin is still hovering inside my car.

Creepy cousin – “Can you give me a ride home? I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

Me – “Sure, yeah, I’ll give you a ride.”

But I didn’t have to. His parents were there and brought him home instead. But before he left, he made sure to ask me out for the fifth time that day.

Creepy cousin – “You should call me so we can do something. Where’s your new hang out? I hang out at dunkin donuts, if you’re in the area, you should stop in.”

His parents were calling for him to leave me alone. He shrugs his shoulders, lifts up his hands and says, “I’m just sayin.'”

The next day was the fourth of July. I met Christina at her condo before we headed to the casino. I strapped myself into her car and rolled down the window.

Christina – “Do you like Ray?”

My cousin is half black, so I thought Ray was code for the blues, like Ray Charles. To avoid her noticing my lameness, I said – “Yeah, I like Ray.”

She laughs and pours me a cup of something from out of a Tropicana bottle. I inhale it’s aroma like a fine wine, I take a sip and swished it around my palette to release it’s full flavor. Big mistake. It wasnt the type of drink you want to keep in your mouth for long.

That’s when I realized she was talking about rye whiskey. Not Ray Charles, not the blue’s, but rye as in the whiskey.

Christina – “I call him Uncle Ray.”

I’ve been introduced to many alcohol’s in my day, but never have I drank such a concoction of liquors such as this that was presented to me in an innocuous plastic Dixie cup.

Me – “Holy shit…….Holy……shit.”

Christina laughs and laughs – “Time for you to wake up Melanie! Ha ha, wake up!”

Christina – “I have a secret to tell you. If we’re going to hang, I want you to know. Unless you got a big mouth. You got a big mouth?”

Me – “You’re pregnant? Engaged? Do drugs?”

Christina – “I smoke pot.”

Me – “Really? That’s your secret?”

Christina – “That’s it.”

I was a bit disappointed. The secret wasn’t juicy enough for me.

She lights up a big fat blunt and passes it over to me. I take a hit. I take several hits.

And then we were off to the casino.20110706-083513.jpg

Christina started telling me about a show she watches on CBS called Big Brother. I don’t watch tv, but for some reason I knew everything about the show.

This blew my mind completely. It could have been from the pot, or more accurately, may have been from a very strong telepathic bond between Christina and I. What ever she visualizes, I can also see.

I seen in my minds eye everything she was describing perfectly. So perfect that I thought I seen the whole show, episode for episode.

I didn’t tell Christina any of this for fear of sounding lame, which I know for a fact it does sound way out there.

Anyway, we get to the casino, play the slots, have fun. I stayed high for about two hours after smoking. It was a mellow high, nothing harsh.

Christina – “I can do this all night.”

When I started coming down, that’s when the tired eyes set in. So sleepy, so very sleepy.

Christina – “Girl, you tired?”

She saw me yawn.

She’s awesome to hang out with. As soon as I started getting tired, she took me home. I wasn’t expecting that. Normally I’m ignored when I start getting tired.

Okay, so that was my fourth of July. The next day was Tuesday (yesterday), at around 4 pm, I go meet Dave and the bunch at Berlin Station café for our weekly get together.

I havent been to Happy Tuesday for over a month. The crew expanded and adopted even more happy members to their club. There were more girls, which is great for me since I don’t have to be the only girl anymore.

We taken up the entire bar and was more rowdy than ever before. I invited Christian to come down after work, which he did. I think he was a tad overwhelmed from all the singing and the number of people in our party.

Christian – “Is this a special occasion?”

I shrug my shoulders and say, “it’s Tuesday.”

Everyone loved him and told us we were now engaged to be married. He even got along with my ex, Dave.

Time flew by and next thing I knew, it was 10 pm and I was tired and hungry. I headed home and stopped at a gas station for a fill-up and a slim jim.

I’m tired. I can’t write anymore. I just got out of work and need to eat.

On my way into my massage clinic today, there was a woman outside – a rotund, sweaty, frizzy haired woman who started harassing me about my job.

Crazy lady – “Does it bother you that you work for the walmart of massage clinics?”

Me – “Not really.”

Crazy lady – “Do you feel you don’t have the skills to start your own business?”

It made me so upset I can’t even tell you. I had in my possession a slew of comebacks I could have whipped out at her, but I kept my cool.

Me – “I get a good paycheck every week, I have benefits and I love working here.” And I just walked away. But seriously, damn. She was so angry that I could feel the animosity emanating off of her.

She made me feel like a scab, and she was the protester.

Okay, I have to eat and go to bed, or work on my painting. I’m doing a cool painting of a Geisha holding an unbrella in the rain. I want to make it really colorful. I’ll show it after I’m done.

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Make-shift toilet paper holder.

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