Viva Sophia

There’s no better cure for a case of the Mondays than a heaping serving of glamour and sensuality. (Staying home and not having to work is also another remedy, of course.) And nobody embodies both better than today’s birthday goddess, the legendary Sophia Loren!

Three decades after that movie, La Loren still rocked it in 1994’s Ready To Wear. She was in her sixties in that movie! I’ll be lucky if I look a third fifth tenth good as her when I reach my sixties.

Also, Ready To Wear is a must-watch for all the 90s fashion heads (like moi).

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.)

Monday Hotness

Courtesy of this mid-90s pic of today’s birthday stud Steve Carrell, giving us precious eye bleach with his I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-Fabio realness! 

And because some of y’all can’t get enough of The Office (like me), here’s a bonus clip featuring the best of Michael Scott getting his Casanova on. Not sure why they included his famous “bankruptcy” quote at the end, but if that moment makes you cream your panties, so be it. 

PS: yes I went to that jazz festival and I’ll post about it soon. 

Pic courtesy of this old Dlisted post (and damn that the video where that pic came from is gone)

 

He’s Got All The Moves!

This is one of those times when the side action in a sports game is more spectacular than the game itself. And the dance moves of this security guard (?) of the Tampa Bay Rays is everything! He’s gettin’ down as if Maury told him “You are NOT the father!” after some crazy-ass woman accused him of being the baby daddy. (By the way, future accused baby daddies who go on Maury need to watch this entire clip to learn some dance moves in case they’re not the father). The exuberance this security guard radiates can power all of Florida’s energy grids and reduce a hurricane to a measly rain cloud. He’s that amazing. Forget the Z-list who-dats of “Dancing With the Stars”, Dancing Security Guard is the real dancing star here!

Fierce!

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This week’s (very late) Happy Monday is brought to you by Hidilyn Diaz, the weightlifter who not only won the very first Olympic gold medal for the country of my ancestors (that would be the Philippines), but is also making the exact same pose there that I made when I got the last box of Twix Ice Cream bars at my local Dollar Tree last week. (Fun fact: she’s also the first female athlete to win an Olympic medal for her country.) Hmmm, now that I think about it, I’m not sure if this really is a Happy Monday post. I mean, I thought I was hot shit when I moved some bookshelves into my home all on my own, but after reading Hidilyn’s recent accomplishments, I’m a super-mega pansy-ass Bieber-fan weakling compared to her! How dare she!

If Hidilyn needs something to do when all this Olympic stuff is over, she’s always welcome to visit the states and throw those sexist gamer trash-heaps of Activision Blizzard into a boiling vat of lye. You know she’s strong enough to carry and throw six of them at a time.

Feeling Hot Hot Hot

Heat waves are never funny, especially when they fuck up a region not used to heat waves at all. But oh this sign…

hot in tacoma

How come the East Bay Area didn’t get that kind of sign when we had our heat wave a couple weeks ago?! You know we’ll be needing that sometime in July. And August. And maybe September. 

On the sorta-kinda plus side, Pacific Northwesters can finally do this.  

Stay cool and hydrated, fellow West Coasters! 

Pic courtesy of this site

 

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!