oy--blog posting bog.

We have countertops! And a functional kitchen sink! Does this sound exciting to anyone but me?

BTW, did you know that you can get Mel Gibson's anti-Semitic rant as a ringtone? I think I hear the horsemen of the apocalypse....

Creepy Massage Story #2

So, as many of you know, Hubby is a massage therapist too.

One day, a phone call--"Hi, um, I'm new to town and got your name out of the phone book--is this 'The Ballard Rub'?"
"Well," says Hubby, "That was my wife's business--she has moved to North Seattle where we both practice now."
"Oh."
"If this is a problem I can refer you to some massage therapy places in Ballard?"
"No....that's fine. I'll come to you there."

Dialogue at this point, not so strange. Pretty typical actually. Just...we are trained to screen people with intuition intact--very necessary for this line of work.

A niggling glimmer of creepiness; Hubby was a little intuitively tweaked, but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"So," Hubby asked, "You would like to schedule a massage with my wife?"
"You both do it?"
"Yes."
"Oh, do I get you both?"
"No."

Intuition tweaking stepping up a notch, Hubby decided to, er, probe.

"What are you needing massage for?"
"Um...I have some stiffness..."
"Oh, really? Where?"
"Um...in the front..."

Lordy.

Hubby, helpful and ever ready to educate,"Well, we don't do that kind of massage. This a medical massage facility."
"Oh. Where can I find that kind of massage?"
"I really have no idea. But, I guess you could try down by the airport."

Did I mention Hubby was helpful?

"Thanks. And, can I ask you a question?" Creepy guy sounds too familiar at this point.
"Mm hmm."
"How big is your cock?"

Click.

Help, I'm melting....

Maybe if we call it "Global Torching" people might take it more seriously...?

Just went to see "Friends with Money" at the $3 movie theater nearby.

I liked it. Great characters and quirky details. I remember reading a review of it that described Jennifer Anniston's character as overly mopey and pathetic. I didn't think she was anymore pathetic than the other unhappy characters in the film--she just may have seemed so because she didn't have any money to make her socially less so.

Frances McDormand--the best part of the movie.

Nice to see that maybe (?) the movie powers that be are realizing that an actress's career doesn't end at 40?

Anniversary #6.

Mr. and Mrs. Stoogie near Stehikin at Lake Chelan...

I just did the most ridiculous thing.

I wrote Oprah about a show idea.

Does anyone EVER really write Oprah with only the lily-white intention of simply getting the message out to the uninformed public?

Hell no--I wanna meet that woman. And, if I have to bare my soul in front of god and country to do it, I'll damn well strip.

The idea is probably not sexy enough to make it, but with August's issue of the Oprah Magazine focusing on female friendships, I wanted her to address the issue of what happens when a friend dumps you. Just ain't no self-help books for that.

God help me if they actually call.

So, I'm a fan of Kathy Griffin, the comedian. She has gone a couple times to the middle east to perform for the troups over there.

One of the things she talks about is how the muslim women there wear their burkas everywhere. Even swimming.

Well, gang--don't laugh, because here are your "Wholesome Wear"
swimsuit options for the "modest" set. Designed to "direct the attention to the face" and not the body, this swimwear is a delightful alternative to that scandalous one-piece-with-a-skirt option that so many body-conscious types are forced to wear.

This swimwear is so ugly that nobody will think twice about your bod.

Burkas, anyone?

Went to see Al Gore's movie tonight. I had been resisting seeing it because I just didn't want to get depressed about the well, inconvenient truth about global warming.

It's amazing and devastating and so damn frustrating. I kept thinking--if this man had actually been allowed to hold the office that he had been popularily elected to six years ago--how much could be so much different?!

See the movie. Try to get everyone you know to see the movie. Sit through the devastating and terrifying parts to force yourslf to learn what is really happening to our planet--stay for the hope that he imparts at the end.

My my, churches are getting a wee bit cranky these days...


(thanks to Willow)

For those of you looking for a morale boost, check out this
ego inflator.

Don't forget to put your name in the address bar where it says "yournamehere".

I think my brain has decreased by several cells.

I have been mired in a bog of faucet choices, soap and water dispenser inanities. It's amazing to see how micro-focused I can get on the sheer irrelevance of whether the fact that this water dispenser having a flange is going to clash with that faucet I want which doesn't.

And, is there really any difference between brushed stainless steel and brushed nickel???? Not much, except for the price.

Bombs are exploding in India, Israel is attacking Lebanon-- and I am consumed with plumbing fixtures.

I am so lucky.

Really.

I would love to kiss you.
The price of Kissing is your Life.
Now my Loving is running towards my Life, shouting
"What a Bargain! Let's buy it!"
---Rumi

I have no idea what this means...

but,

I

Love

it.....

No longer Publicity Chair for the community club---hoo boy am I bad at that! Who would've thought that contacting publications and writing press releases could be soooo unappealing and easy to forget to do in time...

But, as I am the youngest on the board--and easily the one with the most enthusiasm--they are keeping me around. I don't know, I must be useful for something. Like being the grunt who helps set up for the "ChiliPaloosa" festival tomorrow.

I am constantly wrestling with the feeling that I'm missing my boat somehow.

Isn't that the Buddhist definition of hell on some level?

Being a massage therapist gives me a particularly earthy experience of the body.

All day long I'm touching people--probably more intensively than any spouse or partner (minus the sex stuff--I'm not THAT kind of therapist)--feeling, seeing and smelling a person pretty thoroughly for the hour that they lie on my table.

I remember, as a kid, the hilarious wonder and terror of the fart, of the body sounds that didn't involve the larynx. Even now, most people I know (aside from other body workers) are pained by the reminders of their own, or others', possession of a digestive tract, of secretion glands, and of sphincters that reveal body funk.

After over nine (!) years in this biz, it's pretty hard to phase me--but oh, I've got stories! Tales of funk n' stuff...

...like the man who came to me years ago who reeked of, I didn't know what, until I discovered that, upon his turning over to the prone position,
(Aside: "prone" means lying face down. I've been noticing a lot recently that people have been using the word "prone" when they really mean to use the word "supine", which indicates lying face up. One of my pet peeves. That and the constant using of the word "your" when one really means to use "you're".)
his gluteal cleavage (a trade term-feel free to use it.) was evidently packed with composting human fecal matter.

In other words, the guy obviously didn't know how to wipe his ass.

And, I'm pretty sure that it wasn't just a fluke that day, that he wasn't simply running late and forgot a vital part of his hygiene routine. Because it happened the second time he came--and this time he left skid marks on my sheets. Think about it. Sheets that you lie on are not like the underwear that shimmies up your cleavage and manages to find remnant fecal matter sufficient enough to cause the proverbial skidmarks-No! Sheets stay flat on the table, no creeping, no shimmying! So the stuff had to be pretty thick and far down that aforementioned gluteal chasm to create the mark of the beast. I started to mentally rehearse the conversation I would have to have with him if he were to come a third time: "Uh, John--I'd, um, like to talk with you about your hygiene--er, your bottom hygiene. Can I give you a little lesson on wiping? Uh no, I'm not going to demonstrate." Thank my stars that was the last time I saw him.

I've got more stories, but I'm done for the night. If for some crazy reason you are a body worker reading this blog--tell me one of yours--what's the worst you've got?

I sit in front of this sticky keyboard, crack my knuckles, and wonder what the booming sound is next door. I'm going to go look. Ah, neighbor Connelly dropping big concrete blocks.

So, eyes wander to the plant--guess I haven't killed it, the bugger--the only one that survived the frickin' freezing house this winter. Paisley's plant from college. The one she named Penis. But, truth is, I think every plant she had she named Penis.

Damn, it's hot in here. I'm going to open a window--my dog stinks. Window open. Nice breeze. I used to swear I'd never have a dog because I just couldn't imagine living with this smell. Love ma Roxy.

For the first time since we bought it in the year 2000 (listen up you PC lovers) our iMac has had an incident. Never glitched before like this--lost all of my emails that I had been saving back from, well. 2000.

So unhappy--lost letters that archived my life from then, in some respects. Emails exchanged between myself and my parents during tense times, friendship hashouts, political debates between myself and my conservative aunt, coordinating of happy times.

When it was certain that they were gone, and my husband had said a dejected "I'm so sorry" for the 20th time as he felt he was to blame for the glitch in the first place, I had to cry a little as I made my turkey sandwich.

Sweet and bitter memories, no longer on my computer hard drive, now just a dim flicker in my brain.

This got booted off of Craig's List--me! the rabble rouser!...

"Good luck getting hundreds for your crap dresser"

People! come on--you are not going to get serious money for your "solid built oak" or other ugly dresser that looks like it belongs firmly in the 70's or 80's--you would be lucky if someone hauled it away for free!

And, just because it MAY be an antique, doesn't mean you're going to get good money for it. This is a garage sale, folks--I don't care how much you spent on it originally--ain't no one going to give you near what you think it's worth--especially if you are so cheap that you are trying to sell it on a website that doesn't charge you to advertise it!

I have been trying to find a decent dresser on the Craig's List website for a long time now and I see the same shit over and over again because people are delusional about how much they think they are going to get for their ugly crap. There is a reason your advert expired without any bites! If it didn't sell for $400--it's not going to sell for $350--just drop the price down to $50 and maybe you'll get rid of it--maybe not even then.

God, and don't waste my time by not telling me if there is a major flaw in what you are selling--I drove clear from Seattle to Monroe only to find out the "nice Gentleman's dresser" pictured so prettily on a posting had broken drawers and crappy leg--all for $300! No thanks--mind reimbursing me for the gas I just wasted?

this is in or around everywhere

no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Help! the remodel is eating my brain.

I would write more, but I honestly have no thought cells to rub together.

Must...focus...on...flooring...

So, is this weird? Someone came into our backyard and stole our Buddha statue. Wha???? I mean, wouldn't anyone who wants a Buddha statue enough to steal one understand that this is about the stupidest thing one could do? I mean, Karma, dude. I wonder if I'm going to get a postcard with a picture of it sitting in front of the Louvre or something...

rain rain rain

This remodel isn't fun anymore. Actually, yes it is. The finished product--now that will be kick ass.

Briefly fantasized about submitting my resume for consideration to fill the seat of the city councilman who is leaving. No reasonable experience--but it was fun to even think about it. But, the problem is --I hate politics.

For your morbid viewing pleasure, check out this blog
by my former cult

Both links are full of all sorts of horseshit. "Vibrational Psychology"? The leader coined this phrase. It has no meaning or validity outside the realm of the cult. It also claims that the approach "is a science" which uses physics as the basis of all its teachings.

Science, my ass--no more so than Scientology is real science. At least Scientology really knows how to reel the gullibles in.

TIP should take some lessons in snake oil selling from them.