Happy Toothday!

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Here lies two wisdom teeth, which lived in the upper mouth of its owner their whole lives until today. They had been a mild irritant in the owner’s mouth for the past few months, which resulted in their extraction (that was actually quick and painless, I should add) that took place this morning. The owner does not want your thoughts and prayers whatsoever for the gone wisdom teeth, but ice cream and CBD medicine from the dispensary would be appreciated. 

And if you’re wondering, the anesthesia is starting to wear off…but the CBD capsule is kicking in! 

(Also, I didn’t take out the bottom two wisdom teeth. One can’t be taken out without complications so it stays, and the other–an impacted AF one–is not an urgent matter.)

Farewell My Wisdom Teeth

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In less than ten hours, I’ll be having my wisdom teeth yoinked out of my mouth, and I’m likely to be out of it the rest of today. You best believe I stuffed myself for dinner like I was training for the Eating Olympics (which is also how I normally eat), because I also have to fast for this shit, and then switch to cold baby food for the next week or so. I also have to abstain from all my crispy, chewy, and spicy foods for a little while. But at least I never had to sell my nudes to finance this surgery! 

Also, um…as soon as as as possible possible?! 

A Decade of Rubdowns

It’s Labor Day today, so I guess this is a good time to talk about my job. This month marks 10 years of me massaging bodies. The milestone is sweet, but sometimes I ask myself, how did I survive this? How in the hell I survived ten years working my body to work on bodies (professionally, of course)? This is a physical job, y’know. Thank my instructor for teaching me and my class proper body mechanics, as well as my lucky stars for not getting horribly injured in any way (knock on wood) and having a growing private practice where I make all the moneys for mahself so I don’t have to work so much.

I accepted my very first massage job in September 2011, three months after I graduated from massage school. And I left it six months after I started because I quickly learned that two-faced behavior also exists in the spa industry. How and why I dealt with that shit for six months is beyond me. It’s OK, though–that spa closed up for good a couple years after I left.

Insincere ingrates is just one of the many, many, many things I’ve dealt with in my decade of massage.  I’ve worked with catty therapists. Diva therapists. (They’re the ones who must have everything they want at work, like reserve the same room in a spa every time and set the thermostat at their preferred temperature, even if others find it too hot or cold.) Therapists who no-show for their appointments (and get fired after). Therapists who are addicted to their phones to where they’ll have one hand on the client and their phone in the other. I know this from doing couples’ massages with them. (Look at your therapist once in a while during the session, clients.) Therapists who are total new age ninnys and swear by crystals and essential oils for healing while ignoring science. (Sound familiar?) Therapists who happen to be sane. Therapists who become long-time friends of mine.

And then there are the clients. I lost track of how many I’ve taken care during my career, but there are a few client stories worth sharing:

–I’ve told this story to friends in the past, but it was five years ago that I took care of this one lady whose dumper was an obvious fake. The girl was built like a cartoon character–slim elsewhere and her ass sticking out there. Fittingly, she needed focus on her low back/upper glutes, and to massage her fake ass felt weird, like I was gliding on something obviously man-made. Saline? Silicone? Water balloon? I hope women these days still aren’t getting ridiculous ass implants in an attempt to look like a substance-exempt reality show ho, because that was a trend that should’ve died in the 2010s, never to be resurrected again.

–Years ago, one client had the nerve to say (in a review left to my then-boss) I was “the worst therapist” they had ever had. Funny that she says that and also referred her IT band (which she wanted focus on during the session) as her “PT” band. Mind you, what I did with her was no different that the service I’ve given to my other clients. She was a Karen before the term existed. As for me, I joked to my co-workers about me being the worst-ever therapist. Laugh to do away with stupid criticism.

–There were creeps. Oh, there were creeps. Creeps are the bastards who want to rub one off under the sheets, come onto you, or ask you about happy endings. I can count on one hand how many pricks had the nerve to harass me, but, ideally, I shouldn’t have to count as there shouldn’t have been any in the first place. I’ve been taught how to deal with a creep fuck back in massage school, but you never know when they’ll strike. I’ve had to stop the massage immediately when those creeps got out of hand, and I’ve gotten them banned from my places of work. The last incident happened over three years ago, and I hope the streak does not break.

–On a more lighthearted note, I’ve also taken care of a few famous clients. I had one Super Bowl winner who never tipped but at least I got his autograph. I know, still crappy. Maybe I should sell the autograph to make up for the tip I never got. I also massaged a prominent name in the cosmetics industry. She’s the founder of a makeup brand that’s only sold at Sephora, hint hint. That woman gave me some of her products in addition to a tip. Yaaaassss.

I currently have my own private practice and also work for a mobile massage company. I’ve massaged in gated, fancy McMansions with elevators inside and million-dollar views outside. I’ve also massaged in budget motel rooms where I had to lug my table up a couple flights of stairs because no elevator (see, I told you this job is physical!) and set up in a cramped space. My two jobs pay far more than what spas and massage clinics used to pay me, and my clientele for the most part have been great and compliant with my needs. That said, will I still be massaging bodies ten years from now? Ideally, I would prefer to write about my times in massage while getting my feet rubbed by a shirtless hottie as opposed to still living them out, but we’ll see.

I shall celebrate this milestone by using this amazing device on my shoulders before hitting the hay. I had a busy weekend. (Side note: the Theracane rules. Get yourself one if you have busted shoulders like I do.)

A Few Good Things…

Not even waking up (abruptly) to a shitty charley horse on my left leg can stop me from talking about some good good in my life!

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1) Library book sales rule! You get to support your local library and fulfill your inner book slut. I forgot that libraries had reopened, and here are my latest additions to my personal library. Paid $8 for it all. The DVD has 3 movies and I got them for a whopping one buck. And the bottom book originally retailed for $45. Also, yes, I haven’t owned Waiting To Exhale until now (even though I watched its movie adaptation and listened to the soundtrack many times over).

2) All those millions spent to push inane propaganda to show you’re the good guy in the proposition, and it ends up being overturned. All together now: hahahahahahaha! I laugh because my temp delivery job from last year was a gig job, and I also voted No on that awful proposition.

3) Some people in my apartment building sometimes leave free stuff. Food, clothes, Dollar Tree shit that get sold for $10 at Goodwill, etc. Whoever was the person who left an unopened case of Trader Joe’s Almond Ring Danish, muchos gracias and take my air high-five.

4) My recent Covid test, which I wanted to take after attending that jazz festival last week and massaging bodies for a living, turned out Negative. I haven’t done a Covid test since February, and the lines for them are long again. But, hey, I’m proof that that masks, vaccines, and believing in science works!

Summer of ’96 – My Soundtrack

Ah, the Summer of 1996. The Chicago Bulls returned to NBA glory by winning their 4th championship after going 72-10 in the regular season. Independence Day was blowing up box-office records. And pre-teen me may have set a personal record by watching way too much MTV and eating too much Doritos in one day. Hey, that was when MTV was still great and not the waste of try-hard bungwipe that it is today, and Doritos was one of my favorite food groups as a kid. But talk about a time for music–for pop and R&B in particular. Who knew that the songs I overplayed on my cassette player that summer of ’96 would define what could arguably be the last golden era of pop and R&B?

I used to watch a lot of MTV Jams back then, and I don’t recall one day when this video did not air. That’s how hot this track was.

By the way, I recently discovered another song with the same sample LL used for the “Loungin'” remix. Though it ended up flopping (it supposedly had the misfortune to be released right after LL’s song), it’s certainly not a flop in my house! I actually like that version too.

Look, kids–that’s how hot women in music werked it in the 90s. No overinflated keesters, trout pouts, clown makeup, and basic twerking. (I am aware of the many wigs Toni went through in this video, by the way.) Just pure sensuality in a saucy song that is sadly absent in music these days.

SWV may have been my girl group that summer. This slow jam and “You’re The One” were played often.

Confession: I used to do some singing as a kid. Nothing professional–just choirs and some musical numbers in school plays. Whenever this got played, I belted it out like I was trying to get five stars on Star Search. I can’t sing for shit these days, so I’m kind of amazed over how I was able to sing this (or any song) then.

Also, I’m aware that this song came out in 1995, but I bought the single in ’96, so its placement on this list counts.

The Waiting To Exhale soundtrack remains legendary to this day. You couldn’t call yourself a R&B fiend then and not own that soundtrack. I was such a Brandy fan, and the song is not just a memorable bop, but homegirl had style in that video!

Also, and I’m gonna say it, but I’m glad I had artists like Brandy and Monica around at an age when I was discovering music on my own. They were teen sensations, but they weren’t being presented as jailbait or overly sexual like what would become of some young female pop acts years later. I remember reading about Brandy and Monica in Word Up and Seventeen, and they were just straight-up classy and age-appropriate. No fakeness, no ratchet shit, no problem!

This, along with LL’s “Loungin'”, was THE summer jam of ’96. There were many days I would sing this to my posters of 3T and Immature in my bedroom in hopes that they’d become my boo. And it worked…in my dreams. (Yes, I had a crush on those guys, and, yes yes, I am of that generation that had posters on my bedroom wall. God, I’m really showing my age here.)

Pre-teen me thought this was another innocent, fun dance song. Hearing those lyrics as a sort-of-a grown-up nowadays…oh, honey.

R&B and rap weren’t the only genres I got down to that summer. And you could not escape a Top 40 station without this song playing.

I took a road trip to Seattle with my old folks that summer, and I remember wearing out the cassette player of my old man’s truck from playing this jam (and the other songs above) a lot during the road trip. How that tape survived that two week trip, I don’t know.

*sighs* I miss ya, George.

There are more songs to this soundtrack but aren’t posted. Basically, any hot R&B/rap/pop/dance song from 1995 and the first eight months of 1996 was part of my summer soundtrack. Oh, and there was that one Latin dance song from that year that spawned some dance craze that I’d post here, but, eh, I’d rather not.

Nurturing The Makeup Slut In Me

beauty haul!

I’m not gonna wait till tomorrow to do a Happy Monday post on this, as I’m still giddy from this beauty haul I got yesterday! Yours Busy has been working a lot lately, which means, besides worn limbs from massaging bodies all day, extra spending dough! And when I found out that The Cosmetics Company Store is running a “6 For $60” makeup sale in their outlet stores, the makeup slut in me squealed. Even though she also needs to be gagged by a bunch of beautyblender sponges, as I have a lot of makeup already. I feel like I can start my own micromini Sephora with the collection I have. Nonetheless, I ran to that sale, honey. 

The shit I got: Estee Lauder Double Wear foundation, a Bobbi Brown eyeshadow palette, Tom Ford Traceless Perfecting Foundation (yes, I bought two foundations so judge away), a Smashbox face palette, MAC’s Pro Lip Palette, and my newest fave–Clinique’s Lash Power mascara. Oh, and a MAC limited edition eye kit that wasn’t part of the sale but was another bargain in itself; it was 75% off from its original price. I later added up the original retail prices of all my buys, and it totaled to over $300. Dayum. That TF foundation alone usually goes for $88! I spent around $76 for all seven products. After I left the store, I felt like I committed thievery because talk about a steal. 

It’s Goat Time!

My last two posts were fueled by natural bitchiness. This one won’t be, I swear. (Not making promises about the next post, though.)

While many people are traveling far and away again for ‘Murica Day weekend, I gotta stay home because I have work later today. But, for once in…I forgot how many years, I rest on July 4th. And that’s a good thing because maybe then I can revisit a hidden local gem I discovered last week. I’d say it’s a brothel deep in the Oakland hills where all the ladies look like a 90s version of Carmen Electra, but it’s actually a field of goats. (No, that’s not code word for a brothel.)

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I do mobile massage and I travel around the East Bay Area for work. You’d think I’d be fed up with driving after my grocery delivery temp job from last year, but I actually like driving for work. (Until I encounter those idiot drivers who don’t signal/cut you off/drive so damn slow, etc.) Anyway, one of my clients from last week lives in Chabot Park, and after their appointment, I explored their neighborhood a bit. An unexpected turn onto a dead-end road led me to this land of billys, nannys, and kids. It’s been ages since I got to see some goats up close, so this was all fascinating for me!

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I would’ve pet that critter, but there was this obstacle.

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I tested that electric fence by tapping a tall piece of hay on it. I didn’t get shocked but the hay broke off.

Also, I honestly thought this was some kind of goat farm, and then my uneducated ass learned a bit on goat grazing programs.

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This dog was breaking the rules! Going around with no leash and all! Actually, that pup played guard to the goats.

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Those kids ain’t right. They were butting heads!

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Those lucky goats get to dine, combat fires, and reside with a view. (Look very closely to the left and you can see the Golden Gate Bridge!)

All that was missing from this little trip was a baby’s bottle full of milk.

Showing My Age Yet Again

old ring toss game!

This week’s Throwback Thursday (something I haven’t done in weeks, I know) is brought to you by this waterful game that I played when coloring books and riding my tricycle bored my young self. Just looking at that is giving me flashbacks of Care Bears playing on TV and the heady scent of Aqua Net hairspray that kept the sky-high perm of my babysitter in check. (Ah, the late 80s.) 

Story time: I was only a couple years away from owning the OG Nintendo game console (that my half-sisters ended up hogging) and since begging my old folks to get me the latest Barbie was a game I could only play for so long, they took out that Waterful Ring Toss game out of storage to hush me up. It seemed to work; for one, it was colorful so I got attracted to it. With the water action, which was also fascinating, that shit was easy to play. Well, until I wanted to get that very last ring on the peg-thingie. I’d tilt the case to get that ring, only for some other rings to fall out, and now I had more rings to put back. Aaaannnnd that’s how they got you hooked! Before time-wasters like Candy Crush and Tetris existed, there was this!

I probably stopped playing it when I finally got my new Barbie, which led to it going back into storage, and likely donated to the thrift store thrown out because my old folks trashed old stuff we no longer used. There was also a chance my dummy kid self opened the tab and the water and rings spilled out, rendering it useless. Either way, a future collectible (that’s now going for this much on Etsy) is no longer with me. 

Pic courtesy of this subReddit 

 

Finally Finished

A few things I finished recently:

–Jackie Collins’ “Deadly Embrace”. I forgot when I started it, and while it’s not on the same level as “Lucky” or “Hollywood Wives”, it was still a compelling read and another proper addition to the story of Madison Castelli that goes all the way back to the LA Connection series (which I highly recommend!). I could’ve done without the storylines of Michael’s other children, as I felt like they didn’t add anything to the main storylines that were Madison’s kidnapping and the history between Michael and Maddy’s real mother Dani. Also, in my years of reading JC’s books, one thing I really could’ve done without was her female protagonists referring their fathers as “daddy”. It’s one thing if they’re kids, but as grown-ass women?! Oh, Jackie, you’re still my literary queen, but that was a choice.

–Bookshelf shopping. Another thing that kept me from posting a bunch of nonsense here in the past month was me doing some remodeling in my studio. Long story short, I freed up some floor space to bring in some bookshelves! I had a bunch of books and vintage magazines in storage for years, and now they return to their rightful display on a bookshelf! And big-ups to SF’s Craigslist for all the great deals! I spent a total of $95 for four assembled IKEA bookshelves (and three of those models are backordered at IKEA stores). One of them normally goes for $149, but I bought it for $30! Say it with me: steal!

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Two of my bookshelves. I’m still arranging some stuff here, and don’t be surprised that I own a book on butts.

–And, finally finally, my story!!! I had to whittle its word count, but I also made more edits to it. (I can be an edit whore.) It’s still a big-ass amount of words for a debut novel, but I am going the eBook route to publish it. So anyone who likes looooong fictional reads that’s also LGBT-friendly, racy, and suspenseful, I’ll keep you posted!

His Name Is Prince And He Was Funky

In honor of what would’ve been Prince’s birthday today, here is my one and only Prince moment, from ten years ago!

It was May 2011. Then, I was working at Macy’s while in my last month of massage school. When I learned that His Purple Badness was having a show in San Jose, I just had to go! But when I also learned his show was on a Saturday, I actually worried a bit. I was scheduled to do Clinic hours that Saturday. (Clinic is pretty much work shifts for us massage therapists-in-training at school. A little Pro Tip: if you need a massage for cheap, visit a massage school that offers bodywork to the public. Remember to tip your student therapist after!) Luckily, there was a student who agree to swap clinic shifts with me, but to this day, I don’t why she wanted to. I mean, why you working when Prince is performing nearby?! Take the day off and get your butt to the show, too!

By the way, I was also surprised that tickets were cheap (at least for the section I selected), even with bitch-ass Ticketmaster fees added on. I’ve spent more in groceries than I did for Prince tix!

The arena formerly known as HP Pavilion was where the show was at. Place was PACKED. Even nicer was that there was a diverse group of people there–youngs, olds, and all the nationalities represented. Only a real legend would attract such a crowd to their show.

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This couple was princely pimped out for the party.

Now, the following pics aren’t the sharpest in quality. I forgot what camera I used, but I know the zoom and megapixels on it was dreadfully meager. (It wasn’t my Sony Cybershot that I would use in later events, as that model didn’t exist in 2011.) Crap camera aside, I still wanted to enjoy mahself. I wasn’t there to shoot captures for a newspaper; I was there to rave un2 the joy fantastic and get wild!

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Settin’ the stage, and what a stage! (Yep, that’s Prince on the big screens.)

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Look at dat crowd. None of us were thinking about some crippling pandemic then. Also, I still don’t know who those two stylish ladies were on his piano. Wendy and Lisa? Diamond and Pearl? Two SJ Sharks players in drag? It could the be the last one; it’s their arena, after all.

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You can’t tell from the potato quality pic here, but thee Sheila E was also in the house that night! She rocked those drums when they played “The Glamorous Life”.

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The best closeup I could get of him.

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At first I was thrilled to have seen him live then. After his unexpected passing five years after this concert, I don’t know if I could say I was also lucky. Maybe, but when one of my favorite artists are in town for a show, I do whatever I can to see them live. Not just to support them, but it’s also one of those “when’s the next time you’ll get that chance” deals. I thought I’d get to see another Prince show, but, sadly, it never happened. All the more reason why you gotta see your music faves when you can.