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2006-04-09 @ 3:08 p.m.
one almost massage and someone willing to step in

I swung my legs over the bed yesterday, somewhat hopeful that I would soon be finding some relief for the severe fibro pain I've been experiencing lately, but as soon as my feet hit the floor I felt like some sadistic Spiderman villain had taken aim at my knees, with some souped up nail gun. Because boy did they hurt as soon as I stood up. Ouch. As did everything else. Elbows. Lower back. Hips. Finger joints. Earlobes. Okay, I made that part up. Guardcat was sitting at the end of the bed. I scritched her ears as I walked by and she returned the favor by biting my hand. Good kitty! But I was excited because I was a mere two hours away from my first massage in several months. Yay!

Later as I approached the massage school on E. G St. I saw about 8-10 fire trucks all blocking the street. Arghh! So I pulled into the nearest parking space and tried to figure out what was going on. Fortunately when I got out I realized that the emergency was next door to the massage school. Phew. Because that truly would have been an missing my long awaited massage with my cousin.

So I took the elevator up to the third floor and walked into the New Age Nirvana area. You know....Yanni playing. Indoor water falls gurgling. People talking in hushed tones. I had been there once before, so I knew where the reception area was. And what was funny was, I had actually worked in that building 11 years earlier...on that very floor. Although in those days, it was a dark, dingy series of small Kafkaesque offices off a long dark hallway.

I had my first graphics job there putting together a 48 page real estate magazine in 2.5 days every week and getting paid minimum wage. It was where I learned real estate shorthand. "2 BR, 1 BA, AEK, BSMT., FNCD. BYD., NR SCHL., GD. NGHBRHDS., LO DWN PYMNT., OWNR WILL 2 NEG. which roughly translated meant: "2 bedrooms, 1 bath, all electric kitchen, basement, fenced yard, near schools, good neighborhoods, low down payment, owners willing to negotiate." If you were good at "Wheel of Fortune", you would be great at real estate talk, because basically you just took out most of the vowels.

But now the massage school is there and its very nice. They opened up the office space. Sucked out all the asbestos from the 1930's hopefully and then piped in Yanni. So I went up to the desk to check in. I had called to try and reschedule earlier in the week because my art group board meeting had suddenly gotten changed from Tuesday to right smack dab in the middle of my massage Saturday, but they couldn't change the appointment and still get me in to see my cousin, so I just told my board members I would be about an hour late.

So guess what? Go ahead....guess? My cousin never showed up for any of her appointments yesterday!

I was so perturbed, but it truly paled in comparison to what happened at the counter of the massage school. I had already been unhappy with the snippy guy on the phone a couple of days earlier when I had tried to change the appointment. He had been snotty and suggested that I call my cousin MYSELF and see what her schedule was. Well, that is all fine and good except...well....THEY are running a business, as well as a massage school. They make money off their students. The students don't get the money for the massages. They do. And also I don't have my cousin's phone number. She just moved back from California. I don't know where she lives. We're not particularly close. I only see her at Christmas. And I shouldn't have to call her. That's their make appointments.

But the thing that really made me angry was when it was obvious that I wasn't going to be getting a massage which...ahem...wasn't MY fault, the snippy mr. massage receptionist guy looks up at me and said, "You have to leave now, if you're not getting a massage." Like what am I going to do? Pull an uzi out of my Rosie 'N Boo purse and start taking hostages? I hadn't acted angry. I just told him I was disappointed that I had just made an unnecessary trip into town. He didn't offer any apology for the inconvenience. He didn't offer to have another massage student do my massage. Nothing. Just basically an unvarnished "Get Out!"

I told him I was worried about my cousin and then he very snottily said, "Well, because she didn't show up today, she'll probably get thrown out of the program and have to pay a fine or to prove to us that she's actually serious about being a massage therapist!"

Fuck dude, she's been in the program since January. She messed up once and you're kicking her out? And besides, why are you telling ME all this? Isn't that kind of confidential information? If I were going to a school, I wouldn't want my private school-related screw up being discussed with some person who just walked in off the street. Sure I said I was her cousin, but still. So I just left. In pain. And kinda ticked off. But I did get to my meeting on time out in The Village.

We don't usually meet at people's houses, but yesterday we did hook up at one of our board member's houses for a kind of brunch meeting. I was still about 10 minutes late, but they seemed happy to see me since I was originally going to be at least an hour late. When I said I missed out on my massage, Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy said, "Well, I guess that means you're going to be cranky than" and I said, "Yup, I guess so".

We were discussing a big art conference we're putting together next month at the local university. I think its really going to be exciting if we can pull it together. We're going to have about 12 local artists speak on various subjects, of course relating to art, as well as some demonstrations and I think some hands on stuff too. We do have at least one World Class artist who lives locally who we're trying to get to be our keynote speaker. I wish I could put in his name, but I'm afraid of certain Googlers, and he is very famous. Married Guy's wife used to have a studio near him in the local art center years ago and I don't know how many freakin' times I had to listen to her story about him bursting into her studio demanding that she model for him. You would think it was a full body nude thingie, but he only needed an example of a woman's hand, so woot! Married Guy's wifie's hand is in a famous painter's painting somewhere in the universe. Woo, can I like have your autograph and sell it like on E-Bay for like a million dollars? Pretty please!

As usual Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy was being his usual amorous self. Okay, I admit I've missed seeing him recently at my art classes. Even obnoxious people need love too. But his flirting yesterday, was, shall I say...


Bad French boy, bad. His girlfriend is out of town and there was plenty of suggestive eye brow wiggling and grabbing me from behind and burying his face in my hair and kissing my neck, as well as repeated verbal reminders that his girlfriend is in Europe and he's all alone and giving me dark chocolate because, as he told me, that is how French men charm women....

Guys are so....obvious, aren't they?

Gee "A", I could probably get that homework assignment done if I really wanted to, couldn't I? You know the "SEX" thing sometime between April 7th and April 28th, but unfortunately, despite my history, I don't want to be a fuckbuddy for someone with a girlfriend or a wife anymore. I'm trying to turn over a near leaf. Sure I can flirt with them. But as far as (ahem) closing the deal....I think I would prefer to wait for someone who not only wants to come home with me, but also wants to stay. You know what I mean?

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty