Massage from the twilight zone

I'm a fan of massages. I love the spa music, the low lights, the scent of lavender and someone actually removing some of the tenseness from my muscles. I've had over 100 in my life, probably, by now. And with all the coupon sites, I can still get one from time to time.

I haven't had one in about 3 months and currently can't sleep through the night without pain and a heating pad in the wee hours. So when I saw a chiropractor's office offering a massage I thought this was the jackpot. I could see a physician and maybe even get cracked here and there. (also a fan of holistic medicine and chiropractors).

Today was the day. I cashed in my voucher and got amped for my massage (squeezed in between vet appts and buying appts and working in the store). I show up to a tiny little room where my shoes had to go under the table. The music was an R&B acapella ensemble Christmas CD where their voices were the instruments and there was a fair amount of wailing. The lotion smelled like Bath & Body Works peppermint. But weirdest of all - the woman spoke a healing prayer over me when she saw my diabetes port for my pump. She prayed that my body would heal and told me if I believed then the next time I went to the doctor I wouldn't need insulin anymore.

Seriously.

No, seriously.

I thanked her. What else do you do when you're draped with a towel over your thong and in mid-massage? I also tipped her as I left. Partially for the guilt of how heavy the awkwardness in the room was after that moment, partially because she had tried to heal me and mostly because the whole thing cost $29 with a daily email group coupon thingy.

I will not be retuning. But I will be cashing in one of my next 3 coupon massages next week to try and work out the memory of this one.

"Jana likes to live on the edge"

Well that was interesting. I had a meeting at the alma mater yesterday - and might I say I'm even filled with more pride than before - so I decided to check out a few places nearby. I walked into the bookstore and the local Greek spirit shop. The bookstore was just that, generic and mass-produced. But the Greek shop was the same as ever. So cute and fun that I wanted to find something to buy. I wanted to feel included. But I noticed it was entirely Greek and what was University was the generic and the same as ever.

I've felt bad about opening the shop and stepping on the toes of my former boss. I worked at the Greek spirit shop for 6 years in college and after. She was a mother to me when my own had issues accepting who I am. But my fears are apparently hers as well.

I walked in and began to relax, realizing how different we still are. There isn't one person that would shop at one over the other, but rather probably shop in both to find exactly what they're looking for. And after a year of being open and a handful of visits, I finally ran into her again ... and it was interesting.

She threw me under the bus for opening in the first place, making sure I knew I could have found something cute at her store. Then questioned why I wasn't working and was out walking around in the first place. THEN asks me if I ever got married. I tell her no, conversation is awkward for a bit, and I say something about dating Scott and she says, "Oh - you're dating too? I thought it was just business. Well, Jana never did make the wisest decisions. She likes to live on the edge." She left me fake smiling with my mouth a-gape as she returned to her throngs of customers buying for Bid Day.

Seriously? I've been terrified of running into her for fear she would misread my store as stepping on her toes; HOWEVER, in reality, it's nothing like her store whatsoever. There isn't one style, product or inch of atmosphere that overlaps. But she apparently only did enough research to feel the need to parent me into my place.

I pictured that encounter totally different.

Ode to the Poor

May I just be frank? Money sucks. I mean, blows. We should just live on a barter system. Or somehow there's a master rating scale of how hard you work and that's how much money you make, regardless of industry or pay scale. I bust my arse and I have nothing to show fiscally to show for it. I do have to clarify "fiscally" because there is quite a bit of fantasticness, just no money.

I overdrew my account for the first time in years this last week. Because I do not receive a paycheck. I just didn't realize the gas here, the groceries there, the SF red bull here and here - and poof! Throw in a car payment and my account is empty.

Ugh!

Outsourced

Have you ever seen the TV show "Outsourced?" I haven't, but I'm curious if it's funny or frustrating to watch. I, personally, just had an incredibly frustrating customer service phone call, no doubt an outsourced call, for my Satellite radio in my car. I'm just trying to continue service once my trail is over.

I don't fully blame the girl on the other end. She couldn't understand my sentence structure and I couldn't understand her English. Not entirely her fault. However, that doesn't make it any easier or less confusing. I ended up repeating the same sentence, rewording it as many ways as I could think, no less than six times. She didn't get. Again and again and again. She didn't get it.

Once my blood was boiling, I was close to a raised voice, we landed on the same page. I'm pretty sure this could all be avoided and a few more jobs created at home. I'd much rather listen to someone talking to me out of the gap in their teeth and telling me I "sound purdy" than deal with the language barrier every single time I need to change service on my air conditioning, radio or television.

Vin, s'il vous plait

Today is a horrible, no good, very bad day. Humph.

Anxiety attack before bed. Restless sleep. On the phone with tech support for 2.5 hours. Exhausted from physically re-arranging the entire store. Over it.

I don't think a "humph" does it. I think I need a good "hurrumph!" That sounds more emphatic.

Hurrumph!

Don't feed the bears

I mean, enough with today. You know those days where you just can't shake the bad mood, no matter what good happens?

I will preface with PMS. Yes, it is here. Yes, it makes me pissy, sensitive, moody and bloated, which also makes me pissy, sensitive and moody. I tried on four things this morning. Pants that should not be tight were tight. It's not a great start to the day.

Changing clothes lead to me being late. Also because I decided one of my mood lifters would be a gourmet caprese salad for lunch today. And I definitely enjoyed eating it at work! And I made a pot of my new farmer's market coffee, which was also fantastic and helped a wee bit, but took extra time this morning.

Add that we had terrible sales this weekend and it's the first full weekend I've been away from the store - Sucks. If you want something done right... So I've now resigned myself to the fact that I will always be in the store. And how is it that when I'm not here a Saturday sees less than $300 and on a Monday (our typically slowest day of the week) I've doubled that. Seriously? Seriously. I just can't.

I'm working on pitching all of our events, not to mention creating and planning all of the events, and my business partner/boyfriend/pain in the neck lectures me that we need to find ways to drive more traffic into the store. What in the hizzity hell do you think I'm doing by throwing a million parties? It certainly isn't for me, because I'm here over 12 hours on party days; I'm on my feet all day, talking up every single person and still running around managing the store and the actual event details. (bad mood increasing).

But then you get a totally unexpected surprise in your inbox - One of those that you read twice through and then go back to and read again an hour later. It just makes you sit back and take a deep breathe. I actually felt my body let out a deep breathe I've been emotionally holding for years and didn't even realize it. It made me really peaceful. (mood better).

So I sit in limbo, leaning much closer to bad mood. I want to put on sweats and sit at home on the couch eating my whole wheat Pringles or cheddar bunnies. Don't talk to me, just hand me a bottle of wine and the remote and I'll talk to you tomorrow. Or maybe even the end of the week when my clothes fit again.

Jerks

The neighborhood coffee chain up by the store has deceived me. I walked in the first couple times, seeing adults and business suits - leading me to believe the people inside were professional and classy. I believed the the 'burbs had turned this trendy spot into something almost cozy and friendly.

I was wrong. I was so wrong. I have now developed road rage in the parking lot of said coffee shop multiple days in a row. The over-priveleged, self-indulged and mind you selfish, adults of this 'burb are just as horrible as the 20-something brats living off mommy and daddy by my apartment. In fact, they're worse because they have a good 20 years on the recent grads and younger brats near me. And yes, you're botox doesn't fool me, it's a full 20 years.

Who wants to open an actual neighborhood coffee shop up right next to my store? I'll give you business every day and tell everyone about you! As long as primped, tucked, nipped and rude Mothers, setting the example for how their children behave, don't start frequenting your space.

Open letter to the lady with the dog

Seriously, lady? Seriously. I realize I walked away from my car for 8 minutes with the dog inside. And I was nearly in tears upon return. My poor dog, my sweet Misty, when it's triple digits outside. It was inhumane! Did I really need those lemons for dinner? Well, yes, but not at the risk of my dog. Which is why I parked in the shade and rushed through the store, using self checkout and literally running back to the car. 8 minutes.

You, however, are an idiot. A prize idiot. Your beautiful labrador sat panting in your backseat when I arrived and parked, dripped from its sweet tongue hanging out its mouth when I returned. And the next 15 minutes I sat and watched it slowly sink into the seat, panting and sweating. All the while you slowly strolled your busted ass around the store, picking up jars of pickles and aerosol hairspray - no regard for the animal you supposedly love in your backseat nearing heatstroke.

I'm not sure if you came out on your own or because the sweet cart boys were afraid I wasn't bluffing with 9-1-1 typed into my phone and paged you. I guess the picture I took of your license plate, next to the nice rusty dent in your fender, proved I wasn't kidding around.

It was nice of you to let me know that your dog is always hot and that's why it was panting. FYI - it's illegal to leave your animal unattended in the Texas summer heat for as long as you did. I'm glad I was there to inform you. Thanks for thanking me for watching your dog. Next time I'll hopefully move faster, dial the number and get your dog away from you.

Did that just happen?

This could be a weekly segment on anyone's blog. People are nuts and when you witness odd behavior it is definitely worth mentioning.

Following my lady doctor appointment yesterday I needed to use the ladies room. It was a quick outing; my bladder was just a little full. As I enter I can tell the person in the stall next to me has been in there for a while, if you know what I mean. Yes, gross. I plug my nose and quicken my steps. She flushes the courtesy flush. I've heard about it, but never actually been around one before.

As I close the door behind me, she starts talking. She.Is.On.The.Phone. And the person on the other end is so loud that I can hear them. She is doing business in a hospital bathroom on her cell phone! Who knows how long she was in there before or after me? I was in and out in about 2 minutes!

Seriously, did that just happen?