June 30th, 2010
My friend Claudia brought up a good point...what is Satan's last name?
When I received this question, I was in the rare mood of cleaning my boyfriend's brownstone and(since this is rarely my inclination) I felt it best to stick with my task. Through a telepathic seance, I got my handlers on it and (by using a graphic intensive PowerPoint presentation and interpretative dance) they provided me the answer to the Satan surname conundrum.
As it turns out, Satan was born "Angus 'Scooter' Cox-Grabs". His parents were Ohio dairy farmers and members of the Facebook group, "Fans of Hyphenated Names".
Childhood was a charmed time for Satan...the days were filled with udder squeezing and nighttime was when the Cox-Grab's indulged in Pictionary.
All seemed well until teeneagehood. It had always been the assumption that Satan would take over the family dairy business when his parents passed away(presumably in a freak accident at the county Fair's "jumping in a giant burlap sack" contest.) Well, he was starting to think his passion could lay with other possibilities: Being a customer service rep for Sprint, having an online recycled umbrella business or being a powerful, supernatural entity that is the personification of evil and the enemy of God and humankind.
His parents did not respond kindly to Satan's ambitions for a new life course not related to calcium. Right before they shunned him from their lives forever, they doused him with a bucket of spoiled goat milk. As a result, his skin turned into a fiery shade of red. Not his color. He was an autumn.
This primal abandonment was the catalyst for him to go in the direction of career choice # 3, being the allegory that represents a crisis of faith, individualism, free will, wisdom and enlightenment.
Using good business sense, he knew he'd not be taken seriously as a "rebeller" of God with the name "Angus 'Scooter' Cox-Grabs".
He went with Satan because fame and prestige is always attained by the world's most notable one namers... God. Moses. Bono.
Satan knew that his target audience had to be the souls that were already on a downward spiral and vulnerable, strip club clientele. Easy sell.
One night at Beavers Gentleman Club, Satan crossed paths with two weathered British lads. The dialogue went as follows:
Satan(To Mick J.)- Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith
Mick J - Wanker.( Then this limber large lipped Brit went on stage and challenged Anastasia the stripper to a dancing like a chicken-off.)
Satan(To Keith R.) - Pleased to meet you (whoo whoo)
Hope you guessed my name, (whoo whoo) oh yeah (whoo whoo)
Keith R - Jesus Bloody Christ! If you tell me your name I'll give you a semi-synthetic opioid drug synthesized from morphine that's a derivative of the opium poppy.
Laughter, heavy drug use and a Satan theme song ensued.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Day 325 - Forgiveness? Overrated
June 29th, 2010
Some not so breaking news: 2 nights ago at the BET awards, Chris Brown paid tribute to Michael Jackson by singing an (is this really happening) over the top emotional rendition of "Man in the Mirror". The "this moment is bigger than me" production was equipped with his cracked voice, bad soap opera acting crumble to the stage and wounded eyes of a puppy from a Sara McLaughlin "Cruelty to Animals" commercial.
Later in the show, the "agonized" 21 year old recording artist with that pesky felony assault case stemming from beating ex girlfriend, Rihanna, cries, "I let you all down before, but I won't do it again. I promise you."
Here's my struggle Chris Brown. Maybe psychologists, new age types named Star and Oprah would encourage me to find that place in my heart to forgive you. But...how can I say this...I don't wanna.
My intuition tells me that your spectacle was about saving your career. Not your soul.
But rest assured Chris Brown... my disappointed also lies with the people who will undoubtedly celebrate your resurrection. The entertainment industry scriptures makes it widely known that the process goes as follows: The public gets a high from a celebrity's rise to fame, wants to make love to a star's demise and then will have a divine outer body experience with the comeback.
(Maybe 1 exception. OJ Simpson. And I'm still not even 100% convinced that it's not possible that some spin will eventually label him a victim.)
So Chris, your handlers were successful in convincing you to tap into the public's biggest weakness,...forgiveness through covering the King of Pop's "Man in the Mirror". Ironic because (last year) Rihanna looked in the mirror and saw an unrecognizable face covered with bruises, scratches and swelling.
Chris's ascent back into the stratosphere of celebrities who have gotten the get out of jail free card for douchbaggery began with being forgiven by the highest of powers that sees the good in everyone...Jermain Jackson. The lesser than Jackson proudly supports the (I hit you because I love you) performer by saying,
- "People make mistakes, they need support, and he's a wonderful performer."
- "How can he learn from his mistakes if you don't give him the chance? He needs that. I support him a thousand per cent."
- "If Christ can forgive us all, we can look at Chris Brown,"
Jermain, that's big of you. Kind of. If I sing "Man in the Mirror" at a family reunion, will you forgive me for writing about colonics yesterday?
You will? You're such a softy.
Looking forward to your public sympathy for Adolph Hitler, Darth Vader, the 9/11 terrorists, Hans Gruber and the shark from Jaws.
Some not so breaking news: 2 nights ago at the BET awards, Chris Brown paid tribute to Michael Jackson by singing an (is this really happening) over the top emotional rendition of "Man in the Mirror". The "this moment is bigger than me" production was equipped with his cracked voice, bad soap opera acting crumble to the stage and wounded eyes of a puppy from a Sara McLaughlin "Cruelty to Animals" commercial.
Later in the show, the "agonized" 21 year old recording artist with that pesky felony assault case stemming from beating ex girlfriend, Rihanna, cries, "I let you all down before, but I won't do it again. I promise you."
Here's my struggle Chris Brown. Maybe psychologists, new age types named Star and Oprah would encourage me to find that place in my heart to forgive you. But...how can I say this...I don't wanna.
My intuition tells me that your spectacle was about saving your career. Not your soul.
But rest assured Chris Brown... my disappointed also lies with the people who will undoubtedly celebrate your resurrection. The entertainment industry scriptures makes it widely known that the process goes as follows: The public gets a high from a celebrity's rise to fame, wants to make love to a star's demise and then will have a divine outer body experience with the comeback.
(Maybe 1 exception. OJ Simpson. And I'm still not even 100% convinced that it's not possible that some spin will eventually label him a victim.)
So Chris, your handlers were successful in convincing you to tap into the public's biggest weakness,...forgiveness through covering the King of Pop's "Man in the Mirror". Ironic because (last year) Rihanna looked in the mirror and saw an unrecognizable face covered with bruises, scratches and swelling.
Chris's ascent back into the stratosphere of celebrities who have gotten the get out of jail free card for douchbaggery began with being forgiven by the highest of powers that sees the good in everyone...Jermain Jackson. The lesser than Jackson proudly supports the (I hit you because I love you) performer by saying,
- "People make mistakes, they need support, and he's a wonderful performer."
- "How can he learn from his mistakes if you don't give him the chance? He needs that. I support him a thousand per cent."
- "If Christ can forgive us all, we can look at Chris Brown,"
Jermain, that's big of you. Kind of. If I sing "Man in the Mirror" at a family reunion, will you forgive me for writing about colonics yesterday?
You will? You're such a softy.
Looking forward to your public sympathy for Adolph Hitler, Darth Vader, the 9/11 terrorists, Hans Gruber and the shark from Jaws.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Day 324 - Hooked on Colonics
June 28th, 2010
I generally pride myself on being better than writing about those dark lowbrow dimensions of bathroom humor. Today(in the spirit of honesty and shame), I am not better than that.
You know when you wake up in the morning, roll over and ask your significant other, "What's up with colonics?" Happened this morning.
Warning: If you tend to fend away from (fecal) matters that are in no way related to sophistication and aren't comfortable with the process of dried up shi-at being removed from one's colon, stop reading now. Find blogs with safe topics. Like animated blue jays.
According to legitimate sources, a colonic is an internal cleansing of the colon using a gentle and safe infusion of filtered water to remove toxic build-up.
Urban dictionary, the interweb's darling of passages describing the meaning of terms in a raw-like fashion reveals that a colonic is(seriously, step away from the screen if you can't handle the exaggeration of potty humor) the burning, uncontrollable flow of ass water and acidic shit that exits your colon while burning your asshole (aka: ass piss). A mixture of this ("ass piss") and bowl water may also back splash onto your cheeks...this usually depends on the force of the colonic and consistency of the("ass piss".)
Don't judge me. I dared to leap out of my comfort zone by tapping into colon irrigation. I won't judge you. If you're constipated.
THEY say that the benefits of a colonic include an increased sense of well-being and renewed vitality, illness prevention and improved digestion. THEY also tell us that the procedure is a hyped up myth that removes that "good" bacteria. I generally feel that one should never question the wisdom and findings of THEY...but this leaves me(and my colon) perplexed.
THEY did leave me hanging...but the next best source, tabloid magazines, did not. I peruse (but never buy) them in line at the grocery store and I became aware that Ben Affleck, Janet Jackson and Cindy Crawford visit the colonic center. So it might be time for colonic naysayers to consider the process of laying down, having a disposable speculum gently inserted into their back door and having a warm watered filtered cleaning. Bonus that a trained practitioner(presumably a large-ish Ukrainian woman) will be massaging your stomach to maximize the release of stored up waste.
Still not convinced? Let's keep it simple y'all. Come on. Celebrities do it. And you know who are awesome? Celebrities. And unicorns.
I generally pride myself on being better than writing about those dark lowbrow dimensions of bathroom humor. Today(in the spirit of honesty and shame), I am not better than that.
You know when you wake up in the morning, roll over and ask your significant other, "What's up with colonics?" Happened this morning.
Warning: If you tend to fend away from (fecal) matters that are in no way related to sophistication and aren't comfortable with the process of dried up shi-at being removed from one's colon, stop reading now. Find blogs with safe topics. Like animated blue jays.
According to legitimate sources, a colonic is an internal cleansing of the colon using a gentle and safe infusion of filtered water to remove toxic build-up.
Urban dictionary, the interweb's darling of passages describing the meaning of terms in a raw-like fashion reveals that a colonic is(seriously, step away from the screen if you can't handle the exaggeration of potty humor) the burning, uncontrollable flow of ass water and acidic shit that exits your colon while burning your asshole (aka: ass piss). A mixture of this ("ass piss") and bowl water may also back splash onto your cheeks...this usually depends on the force of the colonic and consistency of the("ass piss".)
Don't judge me. I dared to leap out of my comfort zone by tapping into colon irrigation. I won't judge you. If you're constipated.
THEY say that the benefits of a colonic include an increased sense of well-being and renewed vitality, illness prevention and improved digestion. THEY also tell us that the procedure is a hyped up myth that removes that "good" bacteria. I generally feel that one should never question the wisdom and findings of THEY...but this leaves me(and my colon) perplexed.
THEY did leave me hanging...but the next best source, tabloid magazines, did not. I peruse (but never buy) them in line at the grocery store and I became aware that Ben Affleck, Janet Jackson and Cindy Crawford visit the colonic center. So it might be time for colonic naysayers to consider the process of laying down, having a disposable speculum gently inserted into their back door and having a warm watered filtered cleaning. Bonus that a trained practitioner(presumably a large-ish Ukrainian woman) will be massaging your stomach to maximize the release of stored up waste.
Still not convinced? Let's keep it simple y'all. Come on. Celebrities do it. And you know who are awesome? Celebrities. And unicorns.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Day 323 - Low Sperm Count On Public Transportation
June 27th, 2010
Today's blog is being conceptualized on a bus as I return to New York from East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania where I was teaching my "Humor For Health" comedy improv workshop at Deerfield Spa and Resort. Go there. You will be pampered and loved. I mean, If you're into that thing.
I'm riding a Greyhound-esque bus line called Martz Trailways. I think you'll find their mission statement soothing:
"It is the mission of the Martz Group to provide safe, reliable, courteous transportation service at an affordable price."
I'd like to give a shout out to the noblest of heroes in the world of transporting passengers from one(in desperate need of renovation) bus station to the next. The bus driver. The forgotten heroes in this world where lauded careers start at fireman and end at 7-Eleven cashier.
It's time for these self-sacrificing transporters(who drop off AND...get this.. PICK UP passengers in a large long bodied vehicle) to have sexy adjectives attached to their service: Noble...illustrious warriors... legendary figures of divine descent endowed with great strength and ability.
A large portion of my intense interest in these captains of heavy machinery is that I am quite cognizant that I have notable strengths... and being a bus driver would not be one of them.
And...here's why:
- I'm certain that a short sleeve button down, tie and name tag would not be figure flattering.
- I'm social. Very social. And prone to distraction. I'd want to shoot the shi-at with my passengers and rely on my inflatable autopilot to take the wheel to stay the course.
- I'd see a male and female passenger sitting next to each other. They're strangers. I'd touch both of their heads and say, "Even though you've made that unspoken pact that you have little to no interest in having an inane conversation...I feel a connection between you two. Grab a latte when we arrive in Bumblefuck.Go to a cheap motel(with hourly rates.) Then return to your spouses."
- When an inconsiderate passenger has an obnoxiously audible cell phone conversation, I would grab the phone, throw it out the window and run down the aisle with my hands out expecting to be high-fived by the other passengers. They'd leave me hanging.
- I'd conduct the passengers in singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". In a round.
The left side sings: Ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh, ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh wemoweh, wemoweh, wemoweh, wemoweh...
While the right side belts: In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight...
- I'd let intuition be my guide as I'd stroll down the aisle and point to the men that I suspect have a low sperm count.
- I'd ask people to raise their hands if they're a white supremacist.
- I'd take a urine sample from everyone, pull over to the side of the highway and have a lemonade stand.
Today's blog is being conceptualized on a bus as I return to New York from East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania where I was teaching my "Humor For Health" comedy improv workshop at Deerfield Spa and Resort. Go there. You will be pampered and loved. I mean, If you're into that thing.
I'm riding a Greyhound-esque bus line called Martz Trailways. I think you'll find their mission statement soothing:
"It is the mission of the Martz Group to provide safe, reliable, courteous transportation service at an affordable price."
I'd like to give a shout out to the noblest of heroes in the world of transporting passengers from one(in desperate need of renovation) bus station to the next. The bus driver. The forgotten heroes in this world where lauded careers start at fireman and end at 7-Eleven cashier.
It's time for these self-sacrificing transporters(who drop off AND...get this.. PICK UP passengers in a large long bodied vehicle) to have sexy adjectives attached to their service: Noble...illustrious warriors... legendary figures of divine descent endowed with great strength and ability.
A large portion of my intense interest in these captains of heavy machinery is that I am quite cognizant that I have notable strengths... and being a bus driver would not be one of them.
And...here's why:
- I'm certain that a short sleeve button down, tie and name tag would not be figure flattering.
- I'm social. Very social. And prone to distraction. I'd want to shoot the shi-at with my passengers and rely on my inflatable autopilot to take the wheel to stay the course.
- I'd see a male and female passenger sitting next to each other. They're strangers. I'd touch both of their heads and say, "Even though you've made that unspoken pact that you have little to no interest in having an inane conversation...I feel a connection between you two. Grab a latte when we arrive in Bumblefuck.Go to a cheap motel(with hourly rates.) Then return to your spouses."
- When an inconsiderate passenger has an obnoxiously audible cell phone conversation, I would grab the phone, throw it out the window and run down the aisle with my hands out expecting to be high-fived by the other passengers. They'd leave me hanging.
- I'd conduct the passengers in singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". In a round.
The left side sings: Ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh, ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh wemoweh, wemoweh, wemoweh, wemoweh...
While the right side belts: In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight...
- I'd let intuition be my guide as I'd stroll down the aisle and point to the men that I suspect have a low sperm count.
- I'd ask people to raise their hands if they're a white supremacist.
- I'd take a urine sample from everyone, pull over to the side of the highway and have a lemonade stand.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Day 322 - Trust me, I Have a URL
June 26th, 2010
I'm not proud to admit that my website, www.jacquelinekabat.com, hasn't been updated in over a year. I bartered with a former student of mine. He created my site and I provided him free improv classes. Over the last four years, he's been kind enough to make updates for me... but alas... he simply doesn't have the time(or interest) any longer(something about him having a life...and a wife.) Understood.
I'm having some angst about my website being revamped-negative for a few reasons:
1) My bio and workshop info needs updating.
2) My pictures could be more current.
3) And it kills me that the following sentence still lingers on my site(in regards to my corporate and "Humor for Health" workshops): "I know what it takes to deliver an experience that is low on stress and high on fun." I cringe at the literary content of the exaggeration of that lamely executed claim(even if it is true.) Who was writing my copy in 2006? I was? I am ashamed. Hold me. Never let me go.
I'm in the process of brainstorming some changes I'd like to see on my website.
1) My bio will now include that I won the biggest trophy on the Starmount Country Club swim team when I was seven (for having the best attitude), my dreams are in high definition and I'm prone to bladder infections.
2) New pictures for you to look forward to. You'll see photos of me:
- In a unitard ...at a unitard convention.
- With a boa constrictor wrapped around my throat at an Olive Garden in South America.
- Wearing a "smart" gap khaki woman's blazer. A stylish wardrobe staple that's lean, tailored, and above all, flattering. A real classic.
3) On my site, I plan to include the following guarantees:
- You can trust me...because I have a URL.
- Should you decide to take a workshop with me, I promise to memorize your credit card number (along with your mother's maiden name and the 3 numbers on the back.)
-And rest assured y'all.... "I know what it takes to deliver an experience that is low on stress and high on rubber cement."
I'm not proud to admit that my website, www.jacquelinekabat.com, hasn't been updated in over a year. I bartered with a former student of mine. He created my site and I provided him free improv classes. Over the last four years, he's been kind enough to make updates for me... but alas... he simply doesn't have the time(or interest) any longer(something about him having a life...and a wife.) Understood.
I'm having some angst about my website being revamped-negative for a few reasons:
1) My bio and workshop info needs updating.
2) My pictures could be more current.
3) And it kills me that the following sentence still lingers on my site(in regards to my corporate and "Humor for Health" workshops): "I know what it takes to deliver an experience that is low on stress and high on fun." I cringe at the literary content of the exaggeration of that lamely executed claim(even if it is true.) Who was writing my copy in 2006? I was? I am ashamed. Hold me. Never let me go.
I'm in the process of brainstorming some changes I'd like to see on my website.
1) My bio will now include that I won the biggest trophy on the Starmount Country Club swim team when I was seven (for having the best attitude), my dreams are in high definition and I'm prone to bladder infections.
2) New pictures for you to look forward to. You'll see photos of me:
- In a unitard ...at a unitard convention.
- With a boa constrictor wrapped around my throat at an Olive Garden in South America.
- Wearing a "smart" gap khaki woman's blazer. A stylish wardrobe staple that's lean, tailored, and above all, flattering. A real classic.
3) On my site, I plan to include the following guarantees:
- You can trust me...because I have a URL.
- Should you decide to take a workshop with me, I promise to memorize your credit card number (along with your mother's maiden name and the 3 numbers on the back.)
-And rest assured y'all.... "I know what it takes to deliver an experience that is low on stress and high on rubber cement."
Friday, June 25, 2010
Day 321 - Nonchalant Observer -Installment #10– Deerfield Spa
June 25th, 2010
Today is my 9th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Day 263 was when I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan. An excursion to Six Flags Great Adventure was our journey on day 284. Most recently, on day 305, we sauntered to where the beach is wide and the sand is soft, Sullivan's Island, South Carolina.
Today I write to you from a Victorian porch at Deerfield Spa, a mountain retreat situated on 12 acres in Pennsylvania's Pocono Mountains. I was asked to teach my comedy improv "Humor for Health" workshop at this resort who's guests come for several days to relax, eat all healthy-like, exercise and get pampered with a variety of spa services. There is a happy ending. No. Not that kind. Perv. The final result for a typical spa-goer is leaving with a peaceful sense of contentment in matters related to mind, body and spirit. My friend Katy is joining me for this weekend of "work" and now, join me if you will, as I segue into what I have nonchalantly observed.
9:19 - The morning started off in Brooklyn and I stood on the corner of Clinton and Degraw(like a street walker with a backpack filled with yoga pants, bikinis and jeer), met my friend Katy and took the subway to Port Authority to catch our bus.
10:02 - We arrived at Port Authority. Imagine living in a beehive, being the pieces shaken up in a Boggle game or living in the psychedelic corners Jim of Carrey's head. Being encapsulated in Port Authority is worse. The maniacal carnival subsided when we headed down to the dungeon to board the Martz bus, a "lesser than" Greyhound that gave me a flashback to a junior high field trip to go see a community theater production of O'Henry's "The Gift of the Magi". The watch...the combs...great love story.
11:13 - During the 1 1/2 bus ride, Katy and I entertained ourselves with the sophisticated reading material that she brought along: "The New York Post"("The Onion"...without the humor) and an "Us Weekly" (looks like Megan Fox has had some plastic surgery. I also hear that she has some deformed mangled thumb. At least she seems nice. Oh, she's not? My bad.)
11:45 - We got off at our bus stop in Random, Small Town Pennsylvania. During the 10 minute cab ride to the spa, I saw 3 baby ponies. BABY PONIES! If that does not touch you in the heart area....you are dead inside. Still feel nothing? Come on...it's not like I said, "I saw 3 baby ponies...and they were delicious."
12:34 - We arrive at Deerfield and are graciously greeted by the peppy owner and filled out our paperwork. For "emergency contact", we were tempted to put our neighborhood friend, Paul Hale. He's the very much loved and reliable nucleus of our friends in Brooklyn( and would most likely play Bosley in "Charlie''s Angels".) I am absolutely confident that Paul would be here in an instant if Katy and I were to get into a freak Swedish massage accident.
1:11 - We go to the dining hall for a late lunch. My side salad had flair, a rose petal.
2:01 - Most of the guests here are women but there are some males on staff who are delightful to look at. I have a boyfriend...but for Katy's sake....I hope they are naughty pool boys.
2:30 - Water Aerobics. In a bikini. Not recommended.
3:18 - The spa does not serve alcohol and only offers coffee in the morning. As I'm laying by the pool, I see a sprightly young woman drinking an ice coffee. she brought a coffee maker and was dealing the hard stuff from her room. We made an exchange.
4:45 - I started writing my blog on a rocking chair on the porch. If there was a banjo within arms reach, I would have played it and challenged a stranger about to get reflexology to a duel.
6:32 - For dinner, I ate orange roughy and thought back to a nice guy I dated my freshman year in high school, Ruffie. In driver's ed, my friend handed me a cut out of a fish. In a condom. This was the same person who had passed me a note a few years earlier, in 7th grade, with the claw from the crawfish that she had dissected that day. Bless her heart.
8:45 - I taught a comedy improv workshop to an incredibly open minded, spirited and kind group of people. I love what I do. I do what I love. I can't believe I get paid for this shit.
Today is my 9th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Day 263 was when I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan. An excursion to Six Flags Great Adventure was our journey on day 284. Most recently, on day 305, we sauntered to where the beach is wide and the sand is soft, Sullivan's Island, South Carolina.
Today I write to you from a Victorian porch at Deerfield Spa, a mountain retreat situated on 12 acres in Pennsylvania's Pocono Mountains. I was asked to teach my comedy improv "Humor for Health" workshop at this resort who's guests come for several days to relax, eat all healthy-like, exercise and get pampered with a variety of spa services. There is a happy ending. No. Not that kind. Perv. The final result for a typical spa-goer is leaving with a peaceful sense of contentment in matters related to mind, body and spirit. My friend Katy is joining me for this weekend of "work" and now, join me if you will, as I segue into what I have nonchalantly observed.
9:19 - The morning started off in Brooklyn and I stood on the corner of Clinton and Degraw(like a street walker with a backpack filled with yoga pants, bikinis and jeer), met my friend Katy and took the subway to Port Authority to catch our bus.
10:02 - We arrived at Port Authority. Imagine living in a beehive, being the pieces shaken up in a Boggle game or living in the psychedelic corners Jim of Carrey's head. Being encapsulated in Port Authority is worse. The maniacal carnival subsided when we headed down to the dungeon to board the Martz bus, a "lesser than" Greyhound that gave me a flashback to a junior high field trip to go see a community theater production of O'Henry's "The Gift of the Magi". The watch...the combs...great love story.
11:13 - During the 1 1/2 bus ride, Katy and I entertained ourselves with the sophisticated reading material that she brought along: "The New York Post"("The Onion"...without the humor) and an "Us Weekly" (looks like Megan Fox has had some plastic surgery. I also hear that she has some deformed mangled thumb. At least she seems nice. Oh, she's not? My bad.)
11:45 - We got off at our bus stop in Random, Small Town Pennsylvania. During the 10 minute cab ride to the spa, I saw 3 baby ponies. BABY PONIES! If that does not touch you in the heart area....you are dead inside. Still feel nothing? Come on...it's not like I said, "I saw 3 baby ponies...and they were delicious."
12:34 - We arrive at Deerfield and are graciously greeted by the peppy owner and filled out our paperwork. For "emergency contact", we were tempted to put our neighborhood friend, Paul Hale. He's the very much loved and reliable nucleus of our friends in Brooklyn( and would most likely play Bosley in "Charlie''s Angels".) I am absolutely confident that Paul would be here in an instant if Katy and I were to get into a freak Swedish massage accident.
1:11 - We go to the dining hall for a late lunch. My side salad had flair, a rose petal.
2:01 - Most of the guests here are women but there are some males on staff who are delightful to look at. I have a boyfriend...but for Katy's sake....I hope they are naughty pool boys.
2:30 - Water Aerobics. In a bikini. Not recommended.
3:18 - The spa does not serve alcohol and only offers coffee in the morning. As I'm laying by the pool, I see a sprightly young woman drinking an ice coffee. she brought a coffee maker and was dealing the hard stuff from her room. We made an exchange.
4:45 - I started writing my blog on a rocking chair on the porch. If there was a banjo within arms reach, I would have played it and challenged a stranger about to get reflexology to a duel.
6:32 - For dinner, I ate orange roughy and thought back to a nice guy I dated my freshman year in high school, Ruffie. In driver's ed, my friend handed me a cut out of a fish. In a condom. This was the same person who had passed me a note a few years earlier, in 7th grade, with the claw from the crawfish that she had dissected that day. Bless her heart.
8:45 - I taught a comedy improv workshop to an incredibly open minded, spirited and kind group of people. I love what I do. I do what I love. I can't believe I get paid for this shit.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Day 320 - Ritalin + Nasal Passages
Day 320 - Ritalin + Nasal Passages
June 24th, 2010
For my entries on day 292 and day 303("Be the Man Your Mom Is" and "Turducken Killed the Meat Making Star"), I perused my virtual network's Facebook status updates and mentioned the ones that reached me the most in the heart area. I declare today, day 320 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, part three of dissecting the updates that I found most inspiring. Touching. Perplexing.
Today's picks:
Facebook Update: Margarita's make me smile. :) <-----see (that's me)
Jax's Thoughts: Margarita's make me smile too. Emoticons...not so much. If a smiley emoticon and a frowning emoticon were to breed...I assume the result would be a neutral expression. That's the best I got. Emoticons are dicks.
Facebook Update - I should probably be on Ritalin.
Jax's Thoughts: I've only had one run in with this psycho-stimulant drug. College. Senior year. For a radio production class, we had a group assignment to produce a radio show based on a fairy tale of our choice. We brainstormed this assignment in my apartment and a classmate (with an uncanny resemblance to the lovechild of Ichabod Crane and Mr. Burns) suggested that we do a line of Ritalin. While he was crushing the white tablet for snorting capabilities, I convinced myself to participate by telling myself, "Succumbing to peer pressure really is just a special way of letting enablers know that you appreciate their willingness to assist your life going in a downward spiral." Although this incident was isolated, it did inspire a final result that I recall fondly: "Little Red. Rider in The Hood". Our modern day creation involved Little Red acting as a drug liaison between mom and grandma. Then I vacuumed for three hours.
Facebook Update: Happy Gay Pride!
Jax's Thoughts: And a Happy Straight Shame!
Facebook Update: Ah ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAY GERMANY!!!!!!!
Jax's Thoughts: OK to say at the World Cup in 2010. Not well received when screamed in Europe in 1945.
Facebook Update: I am disgusted and appalled at many so called "friends" around me. Apparently, even when facts and stories are untrue, info is not shared by all nor revealed to those of that focus, but used against one to cause rifts. Trust is such a dirty word... And not in my top ten right now.
Jax's Thoughts - I like kittens. Especially Persians.
June 24th, 2010
For my entries on day 292 and day 303("Be the Man Your Mom Is" and "Turducken Killed the Meat Making Star"), I perused my virtual network's Facebook status updates and mentioned the ones that reached me the most in the heart area. I declare today, day 320 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, part three of dissecting the updates that I found most inspiring. Touching. Perplexing.
Today's picks:
Facebook Update: Margarita's make me smile. :) <-----see (that's me)
Jax's Thoughts: Margarita's make me smile too. Emoticons...not so much. If a smiley emoticon and a frowning emoticon were to breed...I assume the result would be a neutral expression. That's the best I got. Emoticons are dicks.
Facebook Update - I should probably be on Ritalin.
Jax's Thoughts: I've only had one run in with this psycho-stimulant drug. College. Senior year. For a radio production class, we had a group assignment to produce a radio show based on a fairy tale of our choice. We brainstormed this assignment in my apartment and a classmate (with an uncanny resemblance to the lovechild of Ichabod Crane and Mr. Burns) suggested that we do a line of Ritalin. While he was crushing the white tablet for snorting capabilities, I convinced myself to participate by telling myself, "Succumbing to peer pressure really is just a special way of letting enablers know that you appreciate their willingness to assist your life going in a downward spiral." Although this incident was isolated, it did inspire a final result that I recall fondly: "Little Red. Rider in The Hood". Our modern day creation involved Little Red acting as a drug liaison between mom and grandma. Then I vacuumed for three hours.
Facebook Update: Happy Gay Pride!
Jax's Thoughts: And a Happy Straight Shame!
Facebook Update: Ah ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAY GERMANY!!!!!!!
Jax's Thoughts: OK to say at the World Cup in 2010. Not well received when screamed in Europe in 1945.
Facebook Update: I am disgusted and appalled at many so called "friends" around me. Apparently, even when facts and stories are untrue, info is not shared by all nor revealed to those of that focus, but used against one to cause rifts. Trust is such a dirty word... And not in my top ten right now.
Jax's Thoughts - I like kittens. Especially Persians.
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