dunnthat

I got a massage today.  Before you think unkind thoughts about me and my state of spoildom, I must inform you:  I not only needed it, I deserved it.

Ever had one of those life lessons that prompts an otherwise normal, kind human being to punch someone in the mouth?  Even if they don’t deserve it necessarily?  But they’re looking at you with that vacant, apathetic, incompetent look that just makes you think you could seriously find yourself breaking from character and smacking them?

And enjoying it?  Just a little?

Just somebody…have some accountability.  Take some responsibility. 

FIX IT!!!

Let’s put this in perspective:  No one died.  No one is terminally ill.  No one got hit by a car.  No one is in a coma.  No one took all my money (yet).  No one killed a cat.  No one confessed a desire for an alternative lifestyle.

It was just a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

And I would have LOVED to have gone to Australia.

If only…

That is not what this story is about. 

This story is about a massage.

I went to a massage therapist I hadn’t been to before.  Didn’t care.  Needed.  A.  Massage.

In the worst way.

Cute girl.  Nice girl.  She did a good job.

Until…

She got to the backside of my legs.  I am on my stomach.  At this point, most therapists will kind of curl/fold the sheet discreetly and modestly to uncover a full leg, including, um, the buttock region.

This is fine.  At no point in time did I feel that she was taking liberties with my, uh, large backside expanse.  However, things did get uncomfortable…

The sheet began to recede to uncover the buttock region.  Then, oddly, Becca (the therapist) kind of pulled the sheet taut between her two hands, distancing them about two feet apart.

I don’t know how to delicately put this, so I’ll say it the best way I can…she then kind of see-sawed the sheet into my buttock, uh, smile.

Yes, she did.

So there I am, face down, naked, my face in the halo hole of restfulness, and my eyes pop open.

It occurs to me, I think Becca just flossed my buttocks.

So, not only do I have that uncomfortable set up, I now have a massage occurring on my leg region while there is a packing of sheet in my, uh, bottom smile.

Not comfortable.

Upon one buttock and leg’s completion, she popped the sheet out of its secure holding, covered the expanse, and then walked around the table and repeated said flossing from the other side.

That was just…weird.

I can’t say that I’ve ever had my bottom flossed.

Until now.

How does Santa know if you’re naughty or nice?  He has help.  From an elf.  On your shelf.

Some great mom somewhere started this tradition with her kids long ago and now she’s rich.  Rich, I tell you. 

Snaps to her.

But here’s the thing…anyone else creeped out about the idea that someone is watching them all the time?  All…the…time.  I would think this would give kids nightmares.

Is this really the best way to motivate kids to be “good”? 

Kind of reminds me of Orwell’s 1984.

I’ve watched enough television to know that everything we do electronically can be tracked:  credit card usage, cell phone calls, GPS navigation, etc.  I certainly don’t have anything to hide, but ew. 

Kind of.

The only entity I’m comfortable with watching me all the time is God.  

And sometimes I’d prefer He miss a few things I’ve done.

Anyway. 

Back to the elf.  On the shelf.  He has stuff to hide as well. 

I think he’s a cross-dresser.

I’m pretty sure I have Shopping Tourette’s Syndrome.  It’s like I completely lose my mind and make the most ridiculous shopping choices.

Shopping Tics, if you will.

I was at Kohl’s last week.  This is a major Shopping Tourette’s Syndrome shopping place for me.  Same with Costco.

Anyway.

Have you all discovered Kohl’s yet?  It’s like THEY pay YOU to shop there.  Everything is always on sale, and then sometimes you get an additional 15, 20 or 30 percent off.  THEN sometimes for every $50 dollars you spend you get $10 “Kohl’s cash” to spend at a later date.

Sometimes you can get all three – a good sale price, 30% off that, and then $10 for every $50 you spend.  It’s like a shopping trifecta.  The perfect shopping storm.  The lollapalooza of shopping.

You need to know that I hate shopping.  Truly.  Which makes my Shopping Tourette’s Syndrome even more disturbing.

So last week I’m at Kohl’s.  Doing a major return trip.  A return trip occurs when I buy a bunch of crap over time, realize “what the hell?” and then gather all the stuff I bought when I must have been on crack, and I make a major return.

This also happens when I shop at Costco. (Click on “Costco” for that disturbing tale.)

So I return all this stuff, but because I bought it all during the shopping trifecta described above, I need to have store credit or I’ll lose all those increments of $10 from former excess spending.

Now I have store credit.  Guess I’ll look around.  Aimlessly.

Then I remember – I need to get small gifts for each family member for a party that night.  PERFECT!

And I see a great buy on a cute little something that will not only work for the party, but for friend gifts later if I choose.

So I “two hand” it.  This means:  two hands pulling the same items toward me and dropping them in the cart. 

I do this repeatedly.  Because…good deal, trifecta, store credit, blah blah blah.

Until that item is pretty much tapped out.  In my cart. 

I feel good about it.

More aimless wandering.  Then I see another stack of something adorable:  Moose.  Mooses.  Meese.  Moosen. 

Whatever.

Five bucks.  A-DOR-able.

Wash, rinse, repeat.  BAM!  Moose two handed into my cart until I look at the shelf, which is pretty much cleared away of all moose. 

Because they are in my cart.

And this, dear friends, is Shopping Tourette’s Syndrome.

Which I have.

I have a confession. 

I broke the law today.  But it was TOTALLY worth it.

I think it’s against the law to take pictures of people at the gym.  But I had to.  You’ll see why in a minute.

Sadly, even though my friend and I were as inconspicous as we knew how to be, (I pretended to be showing her something on my cell phone as I took this guy’s picture…thank HEAVENS my phone didn’t flash…so very very sly), my cell phone taking skills are just not good.

They’re bad.  To be honest. 

I guess I’m kind of shaky.

But it’s better than nothing.  First, the description of what we saw today at the gym: (Now, when I describe him disparagingly, don’t judge me for judging him, because, as you will read, he deserves to be judged because he displays himself to be “seen.”  You’ll understand later.)

Old guy.  And by old, I mean older than me.  And by older than me, I mean likely in his sixties.  With a gut.  And a shoulder tattoo.  And a white beard.

In other words, he should know better.

His gym “shorts” of choice can only be described thusly:  Speedo with short sleeves…cap sleeves if you will.  A better discription is women’s volleyball shorts.  Two sizes too small.  Purple.  With wide black verticle stripes.

After I pointed him out – you know how you point out someone without wanting anyone to see you doing it…by turning your back to said person and pointing at your own chest in the general direction of the talk-ee – my friend said, “When I see gages like that I just want to rip them out.”

For the uninformed, gages are those ear discs people put inside their earlobes, which stretch them all to crap. 

FYI.

Anyway, I had totally missed the gages because I couldn’t seem to peel my eyes away from his volleyball shorts and the rather embarrassing display of his junk.

Geez.

Anyway, when I finally dared a glance at him again, I saw the gages my friend was talking about.  They were hoops.  Yes, hoops.  As gages.  Probably about 1 1/4 inches in diameter.

What this means is that the hoops were inside his earlobes.  Stretching the crap out of them.

He looked ridiculous.

And so, I took a picture:

I’m heartbroken that the picture is so bad, but at least you get the shadow of those “shorts.”

And, since it’s so bad, you can’t see his face, which is a good thing I guess.

But really.  There should be a law.

An eye pollution law.

Why do I let people I don’t know bother me for lengths of time?  This is bad.

I have this motto I coined that I’ve learned to live by:  I refuse to let the opinions of people I don’t even know affect my opinion of myself.

Great motto, right?

Okay, so this latest thing didn’t really affect my opinion of myself, but it sure did affect my opinion of this guy I’ve never met.

And an old lady.

And I simply can’t seem to let the emotion go as quickly as I should.

Here’s what happened (anyone watch Monk?):

A friend on facebook made an innocent enough comment:  “I’m wondering where all the ‘classy’ Ute fans sit, ’cause I’ve always sat with the beer drinking, f’ing swearing ones similar to the fans that sat with Max’s family. I guess the ‘classy’ fans are sitting in the suites.”

Pretty benign comment.  And fair enough.

I replied:  “Goes both ways. Many Ute fans embarrass me, but I just expect more from BYU – since they’re supposed to be religious and all. I’m Ute all the way (and I’m WAY classy – AND I have a son who graduated from the Y – and two from the U as well as my husband and I) because I just can’t abide by the holier than thou’s at the Y. Did you know some great BYU fan elbowed Whittingham’s wife in the face? Just sayin’.”

THEN some moron says:  “So is [my name] suggesting that Ute fans are non-religious? I happen to know quite a few U fans, some who are relatives. There are religious people at the U just as there are non-religious people at the Y. When people start generalizing like that it just shows there ignorance and arrogance.”

What a dumb thing to say.  SO, I let him have THIS:  “Ok Keith – don’t start a fight – or else I’d have to point out your ignorance in spelling ‘there’ instead of ‘their.’ Of course I’m not suggesting Utes aren’t religious. I happen to BE a Ute fan. I’M religious, and the same religion as the church that sponsors BYU. My whole family is religious. My point was this: I expect MORE from the school that is supposed to share my Christlike values. I expect them to NOT behave as some of the Ute fans who are moronic – such as the ones who supposedly threw beer on Max Hall’s family last year. Those people embarrass me, and they don’t represent me. And sadly, they don’t surprise me. And yes, I would dare say those foul-mouthed beer throwers are not religious. Because if they were, they wouldn’t be behaving in such a way. BYU people supposedly represent me, since they are a well-known private church-based school (can’t be argued – they are what they are), yet they often display behavior that is definitely NOT Christlike. And that is where I am disappointed in BYU fans. And Max Hall. And I expect more of the BYU fans than I do the Ute fans who swear and drink beer and throw things. And I am disappointed in any U fans who share my religion and behave like idiots. But mostly, the idiots at the U are, by their actions, not religious.  Does this clear up my view for you? Because I take offense when someone I don’t know starts throwing words like ‘ignorance’ and ‘arrogance’ my way.”

Okay, so of all the things one could respond to in this scenario, some old woman wrote:  “Actually it should be spelled there. Keith was right.” 

OH…MY…GOSH!!!  Has the world gone MAD?  And…why do I care?

Couldn’t resist: 

And I keep checking facebook to see if grandma responds.  I mean SERIOUSLY – shouldn’t a woman in her eighties know better?

I weep for America.

Too much emotion for something that simply doesn’t matter. 

I am really odd.

But you knew that.