Please keep your sick ass home.

Here’s how it unfolds…

You’re sick with a cold.

You come in for a massage or, even more selfishly, a facial.

Instead of resting and giving your body a chance to heal & fight off
further infection, you are careening the virus through your system.

But let’s not pretend I care more about you than myself because I don’t
and I never will.

You are going to get ME sick.

I will be forced to call out from work and lose money as will the
next unfortunate therapist who works in that room after me.

I will get everyone I live with sick (ok, so it’s only one person…).

Still don’t care?  Well, maybe you’ll care when you realize that I have
neglected to massage your snot encrusted hands and will forgo any facial or
scalp massage because I don’t want to be anywhere near your sick face.

And don’t for a second think I am a moron and tell me it’s just allergies.
I may look simple-minded in my inglorious uniform adorned with a humiliating
wooden name tag, but I can sense bullshit within a 50 mile radius.

Dirty pachingo.

Pachingo – the word Elliot from “Scrubs” uses instead of vagina.

There are few things more entertaining to me then body waxing stories told by the unfortunates who perform this service.
(although some of them LOVE doing it)
I once worked with a girl who said, and I quote, “Bring me the pussy, I’ll wax all the pussy!”.  I enjoyed this quote so much that I wrote it down in my journal
(along with the date, because I needed as much information about the event as possible) (July 2008). You know you wanted it.

It fascinates me.  The other day I asked an esthetician if the majority of her bikini wax clients were clean.
Even though her pause was a sufficient response, It wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy.
After my insistence, she told me that about 50% were clean!
What?! How?  I need names!  I need phone numbers!
There is NO doubt, whatsoever, that someone’s face will be approximately 32 centimeters from your snooch (for other hilarious synonyms for vagina, go here.).  My personal favorite is cookie.
It’s nothing like a cookie – but it’s funny & that’s the ticket.

Listen, I am keeping into account the ‘dog days of summer.’  I’m not talking about the natural, often sweaty smell, that just is (although there are sinks with running water in any restroom – a quick clean up is not a hardship).
What I am referring to are clients, like the one who came to my friend, Rachel, with a matted mess of long pubic hair glued together with vaginal secretions.
You are an awful person.  Die a horrible death.

AND to the drop-dead gorgeous woman whose vaginal odor threatened the entire spa room and made the waxer gag – pull that Cosabella thong right back up, put away your jewel encrusted Iphone and exit immediately.
No charge.  Just go – go far away.

Just a few simple (I imagined commonsensical) waxing guidelines:
-rinse out that mug a little before your bikini wax.
-trim your pubic hair. It’s more challenging with longer hair.
-get off your cellphone.  It’s terribly rude.

I was going to apologize to any male viewers for burrowing through a post on waxing but I’ve mentioned the word vagina, in one form or another, more than 15 times (not including the Urban Dictionary link).
I believe you’ve been fairly compensated.

Offer better mustard…

From one of my favorite blogs: http://sethgodin.typepad.com/

Improving your condiments

It takes a bold and confident cook to serve a naked hot dog. No roll, no kraut, no mustard.
And a movie shown on a bare wall in an empty room is never going to be received as well as one seen in a crowded theater.
It might be bold to put your work into the world unadorned, but it’s probably ineffective.
We know that a placebo works better if it’s handed to you by a doctor in a lab coat, and that the little show the sommelier puts on improves the taste of wine.
The packaging, the service, the environment, the hours, the interactions, the way it feels to tell our friends–these are all the free prize. This bonus,
the extra free prize that doesn’t seem to be the point of the item itself,
is often more important than the thing you think you actually make.The single most effective way to improve your impact is to do a better job of providing it.
Sure, a better hot dog is always appreciated.

But when you want to increase user satisfaction, don’t forget to offer better mustard.

I agree with this perspective 98%, although Seth doesn’t need to offer condiments.  He
is already well known and I’d read his work on the bottom of a worn shoe.
His blog is simple & does not require any pictures of dogs wearing tutus or celebrities without make-up
for me to
soak in his uncomplicated yet resourceful ideas every morning.

I’m working on offering more condiments to entice more of you to my table.  You’ve communicated
your desire for more graphics & pictures and I am learning how to accommodate you because
although some of you annoy the pants off of me, I want you here.

Yes, even those of you who watch “Vampire Diaries”.

Couple’s massage

(Can’t stop loving this picture. I’m sorry, but
you may not massage me after stepping out of a Whitesnake video.
Stop right now.  Not another minute.  Nope.)

I have been part of one couple or another for most of my adult life.
There are many activities to enjoy as a duo.

-Going to a movie (unless “Madea” is in the title or Leonardo DiCaprio is in it)
-Staying home & watching a movie (unless “Madea” is in the title or Leonardo DiCarprio is in it)
-Watching new episodes of “Breaking Bad”
-Watching new episodes of “Louie”
-Watching “Frasier” re-runs
-Watching all 180 episodes of “Star Trek: Voyager”
-Watching episodes of “Star Trek: Deep Space 9”
-Watching episodes of “Star Trek: Next Generation”
-Struggling through watching episodes of the original “Star Trek”

And I’ve heard that some couple’s even do things outside.
I’m not sure why, but who am I to judge?

I am, however, still baffled when I get booked with a couple’s massage.
I’ve tried unsuccessfully to understand the appeal.

The following is a description of what a couple’s massage entails:
The couple enters the room.
There are 2 massage tables in said room.
We perform 2 completely individual massages.
You do not hold hands & are not able to look adoringly into
each other’s eyes because your face is in a face cradle looking
down at the floor, and even if it were possible, I would
never allow it because it’s gay.

The only opportunity for you guys to have sex is to attempt a 3 minute
hand job after the massage is over and the therapists leave the room.
We are patiently waiting for you outside the door.  Seriously?

I’ve also been booked mother/daughter couple’s massages
(I can absolutely see the appeal in getting naked & watching a stranger
massage my daughter on the table next to me…)(?!)

Some spas actually charge more money for a couple’s massage.
Absolutely no good reason for this.
Not one.

To shave or not to shave. Not even a question.

I’ve had so many female clients apologize for not shaving their legs
before their massage.

We absolutely couldn’t care less about that.
Don’t give it a second thought.

Unless we’re going to have sex –
which we’re not.

Herpes for seniors /client stories

What is Genital Herpes?

Genital herpes is a highly contagious infection that is caused by a virus.
Genital herpes causes fluid-filled blisters or sores on the skin of the genitals
(areas on or around the vagina or penis). The infection can also cause blisters
on the anal opening, on the buttocks or thighs, inside the vagina on the cervix,
or in the urinary tract of women and men.

I once had a private client who was very wealthy, but shamefully  cheap.
In fact, the only thing she was generous in offering me was a risk of contracting
her sexually transmitted disease.

Note:  If you are smack dab in the middle of a herpes flare up and you are scheduled
to get a massage – please don’t be a selfish old bitch and not tell me.  Please don’t wait
until I am about to massage your ass with my bare hands and notice raised red
eruptions and leave me to inquire.

There are still a few things I will refuse to do for $80.

Products

I don’t wear a lot of make-up anymore.
I already have a boyfriend. (yes, I am kidding) (not about
having a boyfriend but about the absence of self-care I still
attempt to uphold)
I do, however, wash my face occasionally and have developed
an insane obsession with beauty products.

I find the best way to afford to keep my cabinets
filled with high-end skincare is to keep in touch with
co-workers.  Those  who work for spas that sell my favorite brands,
will share their employee discount with me.
I don’t even have to like them that much, which doesn’t trouble
me, because I would gladly reciprocate.

If you are not fortunate enough to have friends you can
exploit;  this website will provide you with reviews of
the best products from absurdly expensive to the downcast little drugstore
brands that are remarkably comparable (if not superior).

In a perfect world nothing but SkinCeuticals would touch my
face.  But alas, a friend who worked there
quit his job selfishly without a thought to my skincare needs.

Fucker.

Say what now?

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Time Out Magazine Article:

http://www.timeout.com/newyork/health-beauty/best-happy-ending-parlors

Although I do not consider “Time Out” magazine to be a highly esteemed
collection of literary work; I do find it a reputable source for new eateries,
films, museum exhibits, theater and, now, WHERE TO GET A HAND JOB!

We all know these places exist.  Massage therapists have been cursing
them forever because naive (pig-ignorant) clients believe that this means that
all massage therapists offer happy endings.

With articles like that one – who can blame them?

me.

Tip/gratuity/donation/bonus/handout/reward

Call it what you want as long as you leave one.

Therapists get paid by commission.  Even at the most generous
percentage rates in the nicest spas- our garages aren’t housing Beamers.
Not mine anyway.

We work hard  both mentally and physically.  I was going to say ‘like dogs’
but I don’t understand why people use that phrase. Dogs don’t do shit (and I say
that with envy, not judgment).

I am not complaining (for once) about how hard I work; I am
merely stating a fact.

20% is a lovely generous tip.
Leaving $5 is worse than leaving nothing.
I worked with a therapist who tore up a five dollar tip and mailed
it back to the client.  She is my idol.

And yes, while I am massaging your hands, I am absolutely
looking at the size of your wedding ring as some some sort of gratuity
indicator.

Worst Client Ever/Turban guy

I’m a massage therapist.  I am not grossed out by much.  I’ve worked on
clients with boils, funguses (some of which clients were kind enough
to warn me about), smelly asses,  filthy feet, excessive ear wax, unidentified
strange skin conditions which in the dark I could only imagine appearing
on my entire body the very next day, and of course the way way too often
horrific breath but seriously – it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.

I grew up with 12 cats, 2 dogs, a snake, mice and 3 slimy sloppy siblings
all at one time.  It was my job to clean the 3 litter boxes (which were not
cleaned on a regular basis but only until they were each weighed down by
approximately 75 lbs. of cat urine). I’ve picked up dried cat shit with my
hands.
So I say – bring it on.

The turban guy pushed me past my very generous limit.

I was working at Cornelia Spa on 5th Ave.
This was my only experience working on a man wearing
a turban.
If there is indeed a higher power – please let that be my last.

Everyone settle down.  It’s not a racist thing.  It’s a hope that I will
never ever have to touch anything this repulsive again.

And as with anything else, if he were a nice guy, I wouldn’t have cared
as much. Notice how I didn’t lie and say I wouldn’t have cared at all.

He was demanding, artistocratic & even though his face was almost completely
hidden with a thick coat of facial hair, I just knew there was a
judgmental frown worn under it all.

As I was working on his legs, between the scattered bald patches of hair,
there were horrible skin lesions. Of course I didn’t ask what they were
knowing that would only be an invitation for him to speak.
He was covered with a filth that could only accumulate after many weeks
(months?) of not bathing.  I can only compare his body odor to the
smell of that bottle of 6 year old vegetable oil I found in the back of my
kitchen cabinet last June.

It’s quite frustrating and shocking when a client waits until the tail end
of their treatment to ask you to work on an area you hadn’t even flirted
with touching.  It’s a sneaky way to get more time considering they are
given the chance to tell you exactly what they want BEFORE the massage.
But – I caved.  I was up to my elbows in chest hair when he asked me
(brace yourself)
if I was going to work on his scalp.  Yes.  The scalp which would be
found somewhere under his turban.  I was frightened.
I wasn’t sure what was going to happen once he took off that
headpiece.  I imagined it similar to one of those trick cans that
spring loaded toy snakes pop out of.

A long, slimy, knotted mess oozed out of the turban.
I looked back on my life wondering what unforgivable sin I committed
to deserve such penalty.
Refusing to massage his scalp was an option I dismissed knowing
he was definitely the type to complain to a manager.
I didn’t want to chance losing any compensation for the 57 traumatizing
minutes already  ripped from my soul.

I really must learn to say no sometimes.