Not everybody likes us...

No, I won't massage you with my boobs.

Mean Receptionist left me a myspace comment yesterday to let me know that I had two early appointments today. When I got to work this morning, I was a little surprised that they were both men. Because I work in a traditional full-service day spa, most of my clientele are of the lady persuasion.

The first client was new and he was booked for a half-hour Swedish, which went well. Then there was the second client. One of the owners and Mean Receptionist had talked to him the day before and he'd raised their eyebrows. He'd repeatedly asked the same questions and some of his questions (Do we have a jacuzzi?) led them to believe that something was hinky with him. The other owner thought he might be a cop, testing us to make sure that everything was on the level.

Suffice it to say, I was not thrilled when 10:30 rolled around. And then at 10:30, he wasn't there. We started to relax. We had nearly relaxed ourselves into a mean girl lull and then the door opened. And it was him.

Mean Receptionist gave him his client info card to fill out and I wept. His cell phone rang and he picked up, speaking in Arabic. He returned the card to us and I took him back to my room to go over everything. This part is pretty straightforward. I go over the info on the card and ask about any possible contraindications for massage. We talk about what the client is looking to get out of the massage. With him, I just got my skeeve on.

He wanted to know if I did "French massage." I told him that I didn't, as I don't have a clue what it is. I explained to him the kinds of massage I do. I decided to go with Swedish with him.

During the conversation, I asked him where he was from. He told me his mother was Italian. Yeah, okay. [Later he would tell me that his father is from Jerusalem.] I left him alone to undress then I returned to the spa rooms to cry. I went back and began the massage. He soon realized this was not the kind of massage he was looking for. He told me about getting French massages in Amsterdam. Apparently, it involves picking out a girl from a group of about six and said girl "massaging" the client with her naked body.

Me: ...

I finished the massage and it was medium creepy the whole time but he didn't ever say or do anything over the line. He did ask me if I were Muslim, though. Sorry, pal but this little filly *finger guns* ain't on the market.

I was hanging in reception with the Mean one and a client who was getting her body wrap measurements and after a few minutes, it occurred to me that he'd been in my room alone longer than it would have taken for him to dress. I got skurred. He came out, though, and cancelled his aromabath appointment, which was to follow the massage.

The horror, the horror...

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So that happened...

The BPAL order I placed in April still hasn't shipped yet and I've become desperate with anticipation. I ordered just one bottle! Please send my glorious Midway!

I totally haven't learned my lesson because I ordered a bottle of the Lunacy Limited Edition on Sunday. I couldn't help it! It sounded so good! Offerings of ginger candy, sugar cane, smoky vanilla and rice wine mingle with a ghost’s perfume of white sandalwood, ho wood, ti, white grapefruit, crystalline musk and aloe.

And I'm now getting into my very excited about traveling mode. I had a nice long conversation with my Limey last night and that was quite lovely. "I've missed hearing your voice," he said and...sigh. I love that Teabag. And I think my trip will be quite the adventure. I'm so excited about seeing everyone.

I wish I had more exciting things to talk about but mostly I've just been working and trying to catch up on housework, which I never seem to do. And I'm a total jackass because I still haven't told off_key happy birthday, so happy birthday! I hope it was swell.

And now a present from me to all of you--it's Siri Helene Erland doing Coldplay's "Fix You" on Norwegian Idol. Enjoy!