I have been stressed, so I made a reservation for hot stone massage at the Palms’ Orchid Spa (at 25 kd). Big mistake. Before the masseuse even touched me, there were multiple things wrong: The robe was too small and really cheap quality; there were pull-curtains in the “relaxation lobby” that reminded me of the gynecologists’ (or dentist) office; I got into the massage room and it was cold – with a large window across 1 entire wall; the 2 Asian women (the masseuse and someone who was just there to stare at me) asked me to disrobe in front of them and get my bigfatderrier on the table; and then the masseuse poured cold oil on me. Even the stones were luke-warm! What is UP with that? When I left, I asked for the name of the GM and get this – no one could answer me! They just stared. Apparently, the Palms doesn’t HAVE a GM – only an Acting GM, who is actually their chief bean-counter.
Opening scene, sometime around Christmas: Brigit Jones is on her sofa: puffy face, red eyes, Kleenex everywhere, crying her eyes out to the theme of some pathetic love song. That was me, Christmas morning. I said I wouldn’t do it again, and I did – I was here for Christmas. I should have just shot myself (as many people do during the holidays). It would have been quicker and easier (on my friends). God, I’m pathetic. My poor dog didn’t even know what to do with me. I should have just gone back to see my parents. How stupid was that?
Christmas Eve, I took my female friend out to a very romantic dinner at the Blue Elephant at the Hilton (which was excellent) because my part time boyfriend / best friend was too sick to go out. I will give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he was indeed sick (although he did call me from his car). It is now the 27th and he still hasn’t appeared on the scene. I AM turning into Brigit Jones, “Will he call? Won’t he call?” Damn girl – WHO CARES?
Needless to say, He didn’t bother to get me a Christmas present even though he is accumulating quite a stash of cool Dunhill accessories (I can’t help it – I love Dunhill guy stuff). Just buying it is fun. (Back to me…) All I wanted was something small and THOUGHTFUL, damn it!
I almost hit the bottle Christmas morning, but I felt bad for poor Jose because he has had a workout lately. Besides, it just isn’t a good breakfast drink for me anymore. Tequilla and corn flakes left a bad taste in my mouth.
I have 2 New Year’s resolutions: I will lose weight (how is questionable). I will spend more time with people I like (like Jose?).
I went for a walk last night in front of the Scientific Center. It was freezing cold and very windy, so there was almost no one out. I love it like that. There was an enormous full moon and the water was very rough and looked bright green. It was so peaceful and beautiful and to top the whole walk off – a big albatross flew in front of my dog and I, singing/squawking and flew off into the trees. It was amazing and magical and made me forget what a pathetic holiday I had.
The Federal Express care/gift box from my family also arrived yesterday. In it was all kinds of cool and amazing stuff: Like shredded balsam fir trees in a bag of potpourri and earrings from Tiffany’s from my mother; and family pictures in frames and CD’s and other assorted wonderful things.
I guess I’m not so pathetic.
I still have more than those poor Bengali guys in my neighborhood who have to dig through the trash to find warmer clothes. I actually went out and bought a whole new outfit for one guy about 2 months ago and I have it in the back of my car waiting to see him again. He told me that he only makes 20 kd a month. X-type dickhead mo-fo HR Manager makes 4000 kd a month. Why can’t HE be made to live off of other people’s trash? He’s a lot more deserving of that life.
Go to your happy place, Desert Girl!!!