Utils in Bat Country

Just rub me?

I love massages.  Lovvvve.  For all my qualms about not liking my personal space invaded (this is why I love weddings because I can dance without worrying about who is touching me.  at a club?  stranger danger!) I'd get a three hour massage every day.

For Christmas, Mom got me a package of massages and because I am overwhelmed by life, I used one on both of the last weekends.  And after the second experience, I've come to some unfortunate realizations.

Shallowest of all - the shop seems to be operating the A&F business model.  Put the prettiest, most dreamy eyed boy out front manning the desk and have the actual therapists be...not up to par.  Some are older, some still have the look of living in Mom's basement but none match the Bop magazine poster worthiness of the reception man.  [Ah, Bop posters. I had a whole wall in my room covered, namely with Jonathan Brandis and various members of NKOTB]

I should note - the two guys I was randomly assigned were absolutely professional and I never felt creeped out.

I could easily overlook the lack of swoonyness, especially when you consider that most of the massage time is spent face down or eyes closed, had the technique been stellar.  Alas.

It must be a shop thing because both therapists I've gotten used the grab a section of muscle and pull to stretch versus the make massaging motions with the fingers on the muscles.  Nice technical descriptions, eh?  Rotating circles of pressure on my muscles transport me to the blissed out land of finger curled relaxation but the pull and stretch method...not so much.  The first therapist grabbed under my shoulder blade and rotated me nearly 45* upward.  Bizarre. And sure, they tell you that this will keep you feeling so much better for longer but because I have no control group of how I would have felt without  you pushing down on my shoulder while telling me to resist, all I know is how good/not good it feels at the moment of the massage and this was bland, bland, unseasoned, bland.

And! I usually go the undies on route during massages and the guy on Saturday used the hip strap of my thong to twist the sheet around when he went to work on my legs.  I mean, more power to you for working with the materials available, but really?  I was choking back the church giggles during that one.

I usually specify that I like to focus on my hands and feet and this guy started in on how the tea tree oil in foot massages reacts with his skin so he does a dry massage and thus does it through the sheet but it doesn't matter because his foot rubs are really good.  Uh huh.  Lies! As my mind was still whirling away instead of aaaah during my so-so foot rub, I began thinking.  I know you used lotion on the rest of me, why would you not use the same lotion when you're doing my feet? 

I cheated and went on the website to look at the therapist's pictures and there are a couple slightly more swoony.  If I give up on total relaxation, the upward rotations will at least be more enjoyable if I can sneak in some eye candy.  Ohmmmm.

Sh*t Fashion Girls Say

I'm not this ridiculous but I admit, some of these were rather familiar :)

 

Wordless Wednesday: Run Tilly Run

Ah ha ha

Darn you, logic

Ironic since I was waxing poetically about how logic and order gives me peace over on fb.

On Saturday, C and I saw Beauty and the Beast in the theater.  Now, I don't particularly care about the 3d aspect but the opportunity to see the ballroom and the library on the big screen?  Absolutely not worth $13. We settle in and enjoy our 84 minutes of animated delight but every so often a niggle of something would intrude and cause my forehead to wrinkle behind my cardboard glasses.

In Be Our Guest, the line is for 10 years we've been rusting but then in the prologue the voice over (is it you, Walt?) says the rose will only bloom till the Beast's 21st birthday.  So the curse went info effect when he was 11?  That seems...harsh of the fairy.

And Maurice.  I understand that the townspeople are sycophants and that you felt you had to rescue Belle on your own.  But you really couldn't have put on a pair of pants before heading out into a blizzard?  No wonder you end up coughing on the floor of the forest.

The whole Stockholm Syndrome/Beast is abusive angle never really bothered me when the movie first came out and all subsequent viewings and it didn't really bother me this time.  I guess I ignore relationship red flags for pretty dresses and books?  But it always did bother me that the Beast never fought back against Gaston until Belle showed up.

Really? You've known her for all of 4 days and you can't go on without her?  That part of relationships bugs me, in fantasy and real life.  Things happen, people break up and get sick and you should really be able to function as a member of society even if the love of your life isn't with you.

But I mostly feel for Phillipe.  Poor Phillipe who just wants to eat his hay but nooo.  First he gets attacked by wolves because Maurice can't read a map, then he makes his way to safety and Belle makes him go back.  Then he gets attacked again when she runs off and has to carry the Beast, who must weigh as much as he does.  And all he gets as a thank you is a stroll through the snow covered castle grounds.  I'd build you a two story stable Phillipe.

But, man, the library. And the ballroom.

Ridiculous quibbles aside, sigh, this movie is made of magic.

For my fellow fantasty TV lovers

I don't know about everyone else, but my wee brain loves to analyze.  Note how I held poor C hostage in the movie theater Saturday night while I vehemently espoused my feelings on the Hunger Games.

But I'm much less apt or able to analyze TV series with the same detail I do with books.  Maybe I'm not as able to pick up on things when watching rather than reading?

Luckily for me, I have Cindy over at Twop and she recaps both Once Upon a Time and the Vampire Diaries.

I'm completely serious when I say that reading the recaps adds to the experience of both shows. Go forth, plucky TV lovers!  And then come back here so I have someone to talk to about my theories.

What's in my jewelry box

To cope with other life things, I set about the mindless yet ultimately tricky and satisfying task of organizing my jewelry box.  Though I suppose organizing gives the starting point too much benefit as I started with one giant knot of tangled shiny things.

I picked up my jewelry box at Pier 1 a couple of years ago.  I love their accessories.

It's in the single digits here so it ended up being a good task as I could sit directly in front of the space heater and stay unfrozen.  After far too long, I had a carpet littered with sparkles.

And came upon some anomalies.  Why do I have three of these earrings?  Did I lose one and buy a replacement pair and keep the original as a spare?

And why do I basically buy 4 types of earrings in every minor permutation?

Moment of silence for the ones that could not be matched.  Sad trombone.  They're banished to the tupperware of last chance that lives beneath the bathroom sink while I futilely wait and hope the missing ones turn up.

The combination of the heat and the flinging of the shiny proved irresistible.

But I persevered and for all of 15 seconds, I had an organized jewelry box.

Oh Ho, Tilly-o

Because my dog is spoiled, she's developed quite the taste for human food.  So much so that she now turns her nose up and refuses to eat plain dog food without a dollop of whatever it is I'm having for dinner on top.  Fine. Chelsea was basically the same way and kibble has to be pretty dull.

I was heating up some Trader Joe's Mushroom Fettuccine and the princess was waiting patiently (she actually is pretty good when I'm in the kitchen cooking) so I twirled a forkful and plopped it in her dish and made my way to the living room with my own dinner.

Make my way back into the kitchen and notice that apparently freezer pasta is not up to someones exacting standards.

I'm not as thrilled by it since they changed it either Till but really, you ate the sauce and left strands of pasta?

Goober dog.

Ipad Scrabble

I discovered that Scrabble had their ipad app on sale from $9.99 down to $.99 for the holidays and that's my kinda deal.  And, oh, this game.  And the damn computer.  With its stupid words like xo or qi and things that I refuse to believe exist or how it always ends up getting 65 points off of yak because it's under some other word.  And me, scraping along looking for a random vowel so I can make cat.

My grandmother is a Scrabble beast.  She beats the computer. Eventually, I could probably log in and play directly with her but I think that would end up with me throwing my ipad into the wall and pouting at the shore so until I move up past three letter words, am keeping family peace and reserving my ire for the damn computer. But!  There is hope.  I scored 45 points one day using maze.  I CANNOT EVEN TELL YOU HOW PROUD I AM.  Since I have no hope of winning, my goal is to use all my tiles without utilizing the best word function and to not let the computer beat me by more than 100 points.  Lofty, right?  And still so hard to achieve...

Hours of fun and good for my brain (aside from the screen squinting and anerysm inducing frustration).  Win win.

A soiree

I was hanging out with my neighbors Friday night and we were talking about the Golden Globes and I decided I wanted to make cake pops and drink champagne and since that can easily cross into troublesome when doing it alone, I'd just have a party (or, awards soiree) to spread the sugar.  And M's bf piped up and said we should all dress up.  Yes, yes, we should.

I even left the heat on for many hours at 70* since I knew there would be spaghetti straps involved. The things I do for cake.

Whilst perusing my boxed cake options, I decided that red carpet = red velvet cake. Came home and started baking and realized that baking red velvet cake hours after finishing the Hunger Games series (which is a whole other rambly yelly post of omg is she serious with this) was a poor decision as I wiped the blood batter splatters and washed my red stained hands.  They were tasty though.  I even got fancy gold sprinkles.  I decided to forgo the candy melts and grabbed some dark chocolate chips to dip and ended up having to add a bunch of half and half to get the mixture to melt and spread out and while I made delicious chocolate ganache, it was THICK.  So each cake pop had about a half inch outer layer of fudge on it.  Not my finest baking job, aesthetically.  Taste wise though, these were good.  And surprisingly, not that sweet.

Since it was a fahncee to do, I indulged and got some Tilamook sharp cheddar but didn't buy crackers because I knew I had some in the pantry.  And I did, I had just forgotten that they were store brand Saltines. Eh, the cheese was the star, crackers were just a delivery vehicle.  I was able to  use the only surface tall enough to keep the puppy off gussy up my sideboard with the foodstuffs.

Everything was assembled, so I dug out my one fancy dress that I have here in MI.  Which just so happens to be the dress I wore to Homecoming in the fall of 1999.  How many years old does it have to be before it's vintage?  I'm actually amazed, the dress has held up remarkably well considering it lives in a crumpled up ball shoved up on a shelf.  Popped it on, seized the opportunity to wear my ridiculous BHLDN pink patent hells, sat down and the puppy promptly decided she had to go out right that second.  Fine. Zipped up my coat, switched out the shoes for Merrels and off we went to frolic in the snow.  After she had sufficiently romped, I came back up and cranked up the space heater for a while so I could stand in front of it to thaw my feet.  The life I lead, so glamorous...

Bring on the Oscars.

 

Ooh la la

Shoes! Wait, when did I order shoes?

Kate Spade?  I'd certainly remember if I ordered shoes from Kate Spade.  Oh yes, I remember now. The adorable ooh la la necklace that was on sale plus 25% off plus free shipping plus ebates. But why on earth would they put something so very tiny in a shoebox? 

Whims of the packaging fairies, I suppose.  And it is sassy, in a dainty way.  It's on a rather short chain and there are additional rings on the back to adjust it, which pleases me. I have an Eiffel Tower necklace that some friends gave me that I think will look quite layered with this one.  Of course, I can't seem to locate it so it's good that this lovely is just fine all on its own.

(Attack of the turtle chin! Run away, run away!)