Archive | November, 2012

# Massage Problems

27 Nov

We as women pay people to do odd things. We pay someone to clean our feet and wax the hair out of our “hoo-hass”. It’s fucking bizarre, but yet so normal.

So when I went for a massage last week, I realized how stressful pampering yourself can really be.

Let me elaborate.

Last week, I arrive at the spa, late and am rushed into the “Relaxation Zone”. I look up to find a strapping young male; tall and tan with a defined jaw line. If you took off his dread locks, he would look like a young version of Fabio.

“Welcome to Renewed Spa, My name is _____ (I ignored his real name and put in my own, “Young Fabio”). I will be your massues for the evening. Please get comfortable and I will be back in a few minutes. “

“ Comfortable” -What the heck does that mean? I assume it means to get undressed but undress what? My bra? My pants? Bra, but no pants? Underwear and no shirt? The combinations are endless but all he said was, “Get comfortable”.

A girl needs a little direction,  at least at the Gynecologist the nurse says straight out,

“Everything off except your bra. Gown open in the front. Feet in stirrups and the doctor will be in shortly.”

Ok, now were talking. There is no room for any surprises. When the doctor walks in, I know and she knows that my Pikachu is up and visible on the table for a proper examination.

At this point my mind runs wild…what if I get completely undressed and young Fabio is surprised? What if I leave my bra on and he awkwardly tells me to take it off…nevertheless I had to ask.

“So, I can’t remember how this works…do I get undressed totally or just…like a little?”

“Ummm…” Young Fabio’s face turns red…”Everything except your underwear”

He quickly leaves the room and I rush like a maniac to strip down; god forbid Young Fabio walked in on me as I was undressing. As soon as I am down to my underwear, I jump on to the massage table and start to think…if Boy Ryan and I don’t work out, my next boyfriend will be a massage therapist. Yes, great idea, I would go on Match.com.

My posting would read something like,

Tall, Knotted blonde looking for a man good with his hands. MUST have massage certification with specialized focuses on the neck and lower back. Must bring prior girlfriend references upon first date.

I get interrupted…Knock, Knock. Young Fabio walks back into the room.

“Ok Ryan, just relax and enjoy”. He fumbles with his Ipod and a song that could be found on the “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” soundtrack starts to play. “How does that feel?”

“O, great” I feel the need to make a joke, “I am drooling on the floor, it’s a great massage”

“ O…uh…no problem, I’ll get the cleaning lady to wipe it up”

No, I was totally joking Fabio. Idiot.

As the massage continues, I begin to realize that my body is relaxing on its own. Now when the body relaxes, certain muscles, begin to relax too. When I say certain muscles I mean the sphincter.

Yes, 20 minutes into the massage, the farting began….

I clenched as hard as possible to keep from releasing any sound. Holding my breath and clenching my toes, Young Fabio starts to feel the tension rising in my body…

“Ryan, just take a deep breath in and relax, you keep getting all tight!”

O, geez that’s because I am farting! I can’t let you hear me fart, girls don’t fart. I can’t be that girl that spoils it for the rest of the female race. They would be talking about me for centuries, “That Girl Ryan, the girl who let the secret out-literally-that girls DO indeed fart”

As the gas begins to subside, I am relieved for a moment to know that there is a blanket blocking Fabio from finding out what is really causing my “Tension”. But just when I thought I was safe from being found out, Fabio lifts the blanket to move my arm and I can feel him back away and let out a little cough.

Great, I thought to myself,  I just dutched oven-ed my massuse.

10 minutes later…

Young Fabio starts to work lower on my back and I can feel the tip of my underwear sticking out. I suddenly remember that I wore my BTD panties- aka Bottom of the Drawer panties.

(Don’t judge, all of you have BTD panties)

It’s that underwear that your grandma gave you because she thought a thong was for cleaning in between your cheeks. Or those panties that you wear on a first date because  your will power to stay at 1st base is more powerful than letting the guy see what kind of underwear you have on.

Don’t Lie, you know you got em.

Let me paint a picture of my BTD panties; Red and covered with happy, fat penguins dressed in Christmas outfits. They sound cute until you see that they don’t quite fit the full top of my ass. My crack is slightly exposed as if it were saying to the audience behind me, “Hey there, nice day out today, eh?”

15 minutes later…

As Fabio moves his way down from my back to my calves, I start to feel my face get flushed with embarrassment. Shit, I didn’t shave my legs

Listen, in my life, I suspend shaving my legs from November-March. I am a married gal and my husband doesn’t seem to notice when my legs feel like a Sasquatch’s back.

Sasquatch Sighting?
Nope, just Ryan in the month of November.

Maybe, I can make a joke to ease the hairy leg situation…

Yea, I know my legs feel like an ape, but it is November. So instead of growing out my mustchase this year to show my support for Movember;  I decided to grow out the hair on my legs.

Or

Hey, I’m French.

But instead, I keep quiet and let my mind continue to fret about the hair on my legs. I just thank god he isn’t massaging my armpits…there would be no reasonable explanation for that forest.

After 50 minutes, my massage is over. I breathe a sigh of relief as Young Fabio exits the room. It suddenly hits me why I don’t get massages; they are just way too much work.

I run to exit the spa and drop off a large tip for Young Fabio; there just isn’t an appropriate monetary compensation for what this poor boy just went through.

 

UH…I got first world problems…#MassageProblems.

 

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Yea, We’re THOSE Parents

15 Nov

Before Addison

Post Addison. Nerds.

Me and Ryan used to be so cool (see picture on left). We would make-out at parties, have cool nicknames like “Rowdy” and “Risky” and dominate in beer pong (our team name was Rsquared…ya, I know, it’s clever.)

When we found out about Addison, we really didn’t want to be “old parents”. You know “old parents”; they like to read the newspaper, drink black coffee and yell at teenagers saying things like “You damn kids!”

We figured that one of the positives of being “young parents” was that we would always be “cool”. Unlike some parents, we would know how to text, ReTweet and type on IPads without needing glasses. And maybe, just maybe when Addison got older, we would still be hot enough to reach MILF* and FILF* status among her friends…but of course, only time and the future of plastic surgery will decide on that.

As I began to evaluate how we have changed over the past two years, I realized that we have completely missed the mark; being cool is no longer an option. We have already fallen into the loser category at age 2… For those of you who are new parents or will be, I have compiled a brief list of things that are telltale signs of nerdy-ness.

1.You Coach Each Other Through Time-Outs.

This will probably be us in 15 years. See the transformation?

Boy Ryan: “Babe, that was so great what you said to Addison, I think she completely got the idea that we are really mad about her behavior.”

Girl Ryan: “Really? I feel like I was a bit harsh, maybe 3 ½ minutes of time out is a bit much”

Boy Ryan: “ We need start putting our foot down. I especially loved the part when you said, “This is unacceptable”, It really made you sound like a mom. Honestly, enough is enough, throwing ravioli at the dog is completely unacceptable. It could lead to bigger problems”

Girl Ryan: “Your right, we can not let her get away with that. Throwing raviolis at animals is definitely a sign of worse things to come, like sneaking out of the house with…I can’t even say it… “EMO BOYS!”

2. You Watch So Many Cartoons, Your Foreplay/Dirt Talk is Straight From a Nickelodeon Show.

GR: Hey, SWIPER (my nickname for BR), I’m feeling a little Dora, Dora, Dora the explorer…if you know what I mean (Wink, Wink)

BR: “Grab your backpack, Let’s go…”

Swiper loves to SWIPE.

OR

BR: Swiper wants a little Swiping…

GR: Swiper, NO SWIPING!

BR: O, MAN!

*Never seen Dora The Explorer? Your totally missing out, click here*

3. You Get Really Good At Negotiating; Hell, I Even Added It As a Skill On My Linkedin Profile.

BR: “Addison, If you eat dinner, you can have ice cream”

GR: “Ill match his ice cream and raise you a cookie and a glass of milk”

BR: “ Touché, ill take mommy’s offer AND throw in a bubble bath”

Parents: 1    Addison: 0

It’s a big deal to win a dinner negotiation.

Today: a victory to eat vegetables; Tomorrow: a ballot ticket to the White House.

4. You Begin to Censor Your Favorite Television Shows.

The other day, we received this note from daycare:

Dear Ryan and Ryan,

Recently, Addison has been scaring the other children. She tells them that she hears scary noises and that these noises are from the zombies outside. How does Addison know what a zombie is?

BR: “I told you that Addison shouldn’t be watching The Walking Dead with us!

GR: “No, she should. Daycare just doesn’t appreciate Doomsday Prepping Education. How else are we all going to know how to survive a zombie apocalypse?”

Necessary Education for A Zombie Apocalypse

Goodbye prime time television….

5. Your Biggest Celebrations Are Just Down Right Embarrassing.

Waiter, “Hey folks, are you up for dessert? You must be out celebrating your anniversary. New Job? New house?

No More Diaper Genie!

GR: “No, we are celebrating the end of stinky diapers and shit explosions! You see our kid is now wearing “Big Girl Panties””. It’s a big deal. That whole poop thing is the toilet’s problem now.

Waiter: “Ok…so does that mean you like to share the brownie surprise for Dessert?”

BR:” I think we’ll take two, it’s a big night. Goodbye Diaper Genie!”

Parents, beware the signs of nerdy-ness. Before you know it, you will be reading newspapers, drinking black coffee and yelling at teenagers.

I am a Cheater

9 Nov

I feel like I have cheated on my dog, Joba and must confess. I got Joba when I was in college and he has always been suspicious of the smells on my clothes when I got home late at night or when I would leave him at home for long periods of time.

Now, for four years I have been a faithful human. My indiscretions were as innocent as working at a doggie daycare or visiting friends who happened to have a furry companion…all meaningless one dayers. Ever since I brought home our new dog Levi, Joba has done nothing but give me the cold paw. He knows that this dog means more than just the average hello lick; this new dog has caused a love triangle.

In my own home I am starting to feel guilty. I hide behind the stairs to give my new dog Levi a pat to say “good job”. I even pretend not to notice Levi when Joba is looking. Joba has caused me to be secretive with my public affections.

Just to show you all what I am talking about, I have taken a picture of Joba watching from the top of the stairs when I went to hug Levi earlier this evening. (See Picture)

Now, how can any one live with themselves after their dog has given them the look of pure disappointment?

I have confessed that I am a cheater. Image

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