Aboard the Disney Wonder, At Sea
... I'm also paying to read myself. And I don't seem able to log the fuck off this expensive network, so even when I'm not using my laptop, I'm getting charged for connect time. Naturally I'm not happy about that. Sure, I enjoy throwing money around like all that water out there, but I'd like to get something for it, and unused internet connect time doesn't qualify.
The seawood wrap/massage thing I did this morning was pretty unpleasant. The seaweed wrap part of the event means you get painted all over with green goo in a chilly room, then wrapped up in one of those foil blankets they put on runners who have just completed a marathon, with some cotton blankets on top of that. Then I got a foot rub instead of the scalp massage because having just spent $45 on a shampoo/blow-out, I was damned if someone was going to rub oil all over my scalp. I suppose the foot rub was pleasant enough, but I spent the whole time thinking about the invitations I haven't yet ordered for the fundraiser I'm chairing in June.
Then I had to drag my seaweed-covered body into a shower stall while trying to keep a towel on my head to protect my hair from the shower spray, not to mention the seaweed. Where I used some kind of shower gel and then some kind of scrubby shit to get the seaweed off. I could have hung out in there for a long, long time because it was warm, unlike the room with the seaweed.
Then the masseuse gave me a back and lower leg massage. The parts where I was lying on my stomach were not excruciating, but not comfortable, either, since my boobs got in the way, and I couldn't really breathe with my face on a terrycloth-covered donut. I think my head ended up a bit lower than my torso, and my sinuses took the opportunity to fill. So there I was, mouth breathing and trying to prop my head up while holding my breasts off the table. And then, the masseuse found some knotted muscles and beat them up for a while, and then, when that wasn't enough torment for her to inflict, she went at my right scapular like a terrier with a bone.
I suppose I ended up all relaxed and shit, but it's been an hour and I'm already back to my usual tense self, complete with my signature loudly crackling shoulder joints. Not to mention that I'm supposed to be drinking water to help flush out toxins, but I hate water, so I'm on my second latte. I figure I might as well give the water some more toxins to flush, in case I they all came out in the seaweed wrap.
So the relaxed/detoxed effects lasted all of twenty minutes--but what's a girl to do? I suppose I should just stop typing and mousing and using the internet. Also, I guess I should knock off sitting upright, brushing my teeth, or using my facial muscles in any way whatsoever.
Because basically, everything I like to do makes me tense. Life makes me tense. Tense is my natural state.
But natural is good, right? So what's with all the seaweed and oil? I feel like a cross between a maki roll and one of those shallow saucers they fill with oil in"Italian" restaurants because they don't think you like butter with your bread. Because, honestly, more oil please; I simply can't get enough of the stuff. Don't stint, JUST POUR SOME MORE ON.
And another thing. Do they all absolutely have to try to sell me seaweed bath salts and cellulite oil and other ridiculously unscientific mumbo-jumbo-laden overpriced products?
Are you getting the idea that I loathe spa services?
Well, I bought some AHA cream and some night cream. And a bottle of some kind of greeze (grease with a Southern accent) for my cuticles and heels and even hair, should I become emboldened to greeze up my head with it (only to have to spend an hour in the shower scrubbing it out ...)
All in all between the services, the tips, the products, and the gold Disney Cruise charm and chain I bought myself because I fucking felt like it, plus the expensive internet time I can't manage to turn off, I expect I added about $1,000 to our credit cards.
ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?
Name Withheld Upon Request
p.s. It's been an hour and a half and I'm still slippery.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
When you're a professional whiner, luxurious Bahamian cruises can't cramp your style
I thought I would take advantage of the free wireless internet service at the Orlando airport to copy and paste a rant from my Sent Email folder. I begin by replying to my friend's pleasure in my having to pay big bucks to read emails from her. And then I segue into a more general rant.