Valentines Day Massacre

I worked at the spa on valetine's day, couples massage, chocolate dipped strawberries, sparkling apple cider, rose petals on the massage tables blah blah blah. Some women came in by themselves, their husbands/boyfriends having bought them a gift of spa treatments. We were pretty busy, overbooked actually, and our receptionist was not doing the greatest job keeping track of the clients. She approached a white-haired lady with strawberries and chocolate and said "Happy valentine's day, this is from your husband he called and ordered this especially for you because he wants your day to be really special". The lady looked extremely surprised, scared even. " How nice" she stammered, "My husband died two years ago".
Messages from beyond the grave are all part of the service ma'am.

Warm heart

Something that makes me happy (for a change) is the trip-hop station at pandora.com. Thanks Paula!
When I was teaching my arts and crafts class to The Old People today, Margo came up to me and took my hands "Thank you so much for the class dear" she said.
" You're welcome Margo- Margo your hands are so cold!" I exclaimed.
She is a diminutive and sweet old lady of 85. " Well you know what they say", she replied;
"Cold hands, cold feet, hot pussy!"

Happy New Year

It's been a long time since I posted anything., due to the economy.
(Actually, due to the fact that I didn't have a computer which really slows you down when you're trying to be a blogger.)
In any case, life goes on sadly.

Party animal

So I went to a party last night, (squeezing it in between jobs)for a friend of mine who is getting an award of recognition from the Federation of American Scientists, as well as some prize in Tokyo for "researchers who make a particularly significant contribution to problems faced by cities", (previous winner Paul Krugman), and he was also part of a symposium held by the FAS at UC Berkeley on thursday. 

What a loser.

Seriously, when I hear 'Phd  in Chemistry from Princeton', I of course think 'slacker who went to a party school to get drunk and meet chicks'-right? I think they just invited me to elevate the tone of the event. Their friends weren't that bright either.

When I got home, I found that the cats had dragged one of my favorite socks into the litter box (to serve as a shit blanket?), and that the reason I couldn't wash the smell of blue cheese off my hands was that the blue cheese had fallen down my cleavage and was lodged in my bra. I decided not to wash, but instead to go to work today smelling of eau de fromage just to serve everyone right who can afford to get a massage. 

Yes, this is the mature work ethic that got me where I am today, in case you were wondering.

Thanks but no thanks

You know how the mutant father of your child who's forty years old and  lives with his mother and doesn't work or own a car or a driver's licence because of all those DUIs turns around and tells you that you should learn to live within a budget like him and that you don't know how to manage your money, and you're working four jobs to make ends meet?

Me neither.

support your local library

I went and joined my local library today, just so that I could get the final book in the series of teenage vampire novels I have been reading.

You know you're in the ghetto when the biggest section in the library is automotive manuals.

In spanish.

I found the teen literature section and my book was not there. The librarian told me they didn't have it yet, even though the book came out three weeks ago.

I'm tempted to do what I did with the third book, which was to buy it from Target and then return it the next day after i finished it. ( I really don't need to own the evidence that i spend my spare time reading teenage vampire romance novels).

The second book I read in Barnes and Nobles, and the first one I actually bought on amazon for $6, and then suffered constant ridicule FOR DAYS from my teenage son who had a lot of feedback about my age versus my reading habits.

Today one of the cats peed on my bed, which only added to my deep-rooted conviction that everyone, domestic animal and teenager alike, is conspiring against me.

Indian Giver

Periodically ( i.e, related to my period), I think about moving to India. 

I would live in a beautiful open house, I would have servants to do my laundry, cook and clean for me and I would lead a graceful,  gracious life. How would I support myself? That's a little more hazy, but given that most American jobs have been outsourced to India I could probably get one of those jobs answering the phone for Lands End or LLBean. 

My life would be fabulous and I would eat delicious Indian food everyday that would be prepared for me by my servants who would rip me off behind my back because I'm a westerner but I wouldn't care because my life would still be so cheap. I could have loads of animals and my house would never smell like shit because my servants would take care of it. I could have tons of plants and they would all stay alive because my servants would water them.

 I could single-handedly bring back the empire all over again.