Anyway. I'm going to try to reproduce my fucking entry.
So. It's really weird being naked in a room and having your naked body touched my cute Asian girls and muscley European men. That's what going to the spa is ALL about. I liked it. We spent hours and hours getting pampered, Byron and I. I kind of want an ionic hair straightening procedure, but that costs $1200. I think Byron spent about $500 bucks each for the both of us, and his Byron's Bitch of a Mom footed the bill. She actually approved it, but in a very bitchy way. Byron's Bitch of a Mom said, "Ooooh, you could use a detox, darling." A detox is a spa treatment that confuses me to no end. It's not a colonic, which neither Byron nor myself got, although Byron says he likes getting things stuck up his ass, but not at spas. I don't understand the specifics of a detox treatment, but I know that "galvanic and faradic stimuli" -- and don't ask me what those stimuli are -- are "propelled into the fatty areas of the body" -- and don't ask me how they're propelled into the fatty areas of the body, because I really don't want to know.
Yeah. But it was fun. I smell nice, like flowers. And my skin is soft, and my hair feels like silk, and I feel boneless in a really pleasant way. My muscles feel like goo.
Oh, oh. Yesterday, we went shopping at The Falls, a ritzy outdoor malls with man-made rivers and little waterfalls flowing throughout the environs. Anyhow, it's about five minutes from my place. It's not quite as upscale as Merrick Park is -- that's where Elemis Spa is, sandwiched between Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus -- but The Falls has a Macy's and a Bloomingdale's. I used the money I earned from hawking those limited edition He-Man Meka-Neck action figures on eBay to buy some nice stuff. I didn't spend a huge percentage of it, about $2000 of $5500. I got three nice suits at Banana Republic, a nice grid-print men's shirt at Brooks Brothers that I lovelovelove, and I love it even more because it was on sale, three pairs of shoes at Charles David, and four pairs of Donna Karen slacks at Macy's, which were more expensive at Bloomingdale's. You don't understand. There's a cartoon in the latest New Yorker, and it's so true. It shows two ladies at a rack of DKNY jeans, and one woman says, "Thank god for Donna. She's the only one who understands my ass. Well. It's funnier if you see it. Hold on, now that I've sucked the funny out of it, I'll look for it at Cartoon Bank. Here it is. But seriously, you guys, my ass looks so hot in DKNY pants.
Byron's really great at sweet-talking the ladies fitting room attendants into letting him hang in the dressing room with me. Probably because he's so flaming, and he is gay, so it's not like he's in there to check out titties and ass, he's just trying to tell me that I should not wear capri pants under any circumstances. I'm retarded when it comes to picking out clothes for myself sometimes.
That Asimo robot scares the crap out of me. I think it's because of all of the old sci-fi movies I watched growing up.
Oh, my imaginary boyfriend Ali G is on the telly now, and he's interviewing Newt Gingrich! This will be funny. I am going now. Bye.
So. It's really weird being naked in a room and having your naked body touched my cute Asian girls and muscley European men. That's what going to the spa is ALL about. I liked it. We spent hours and hours getting pampered, Byron and I. I kind of want an ionic hair straightening procedure, but that costs $1200. I think Byron spent about $500 bucks each for the both of us, and his Byron's Bitch of a Mom footed the bill. She actually approved it, but in a very bitchy way. Byron's Bitch of a Mom said, "Ooooh, you could use a detox, darling." A detox is a spa treatment that confuses me to no end. It's not a colonic, which neither Byron nor myself got, although Byron says he likes getting things stuck up his ass, but not at spas. I don't understand the specifics of a detox treatment, but I know that "galvanic and faradic stimuli" -- and don't ask me what those stimuli are -- are "propelled into the fatty areas of the body" -- and don't ask me how they're propelled into the fatty areas of the body, because I really don't want to know.
Yeah. But it was fun. I smell nice, like flowers. And my skin is soft, and my hair feels like silk, and I feel boneless in a really pleasant way. My muscles feel like goo.
Oh, oh. Yesterday, we went shopping at The Falls, a ritzy outdoor malls with man-made rivers and little waterfalls flowing throughout the environs. Anyhow, it's about five minutes from my place. It's not quite as upscale as Merrick Park is -- that's where Elemis Spa is, sandwiched between Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus -- but The Falls has a Macy's and a Bloomingdale's. I used the money I earned from hawking those limited edition He-Man Meka-Neck action figures on eBay to buy some nice stuff. I didn't spend a huge percentage of it, about $2000 of $5500. I got three nice suits at Banana Republic, a nice grid-print men's shirt at Brooks Brothers that I lovelovelove, and I love it even more because it was on sale, three pairs of shoes at Charles David, and four pairs of Donna Karen slacks at Macy's, which were more expensive at Bloomingdale's. You don't understand. There's a cartoon in the latest New Yorker, and it's so true. It shows two ladies at a rack of DKNY jeans, and one woman says, "Thank god for Donna. She's the only one who understands my ass. Well. It's funnier if you see it. Hold on, now that I've sucked the funny out of it, I'll look for it at Cartoon Bank. Here it is. But seriously, you guys, my ass looks so hot in DKNY pants.
Byron's really great at sweet-talking the ladies fitting room attendants into letting him hang in the dressing room with me. Probably because he's so flaming, and he is gay, so it's not like he's in there to check out titties and ass, he's just trying to tell me that I should not wear capri pants under any circumstances. I'm retarded when it comes to picking out clothes for myself sometimes.
That Asimo robot scares the crap out of me. I think it's because of all of the old sci-fi movies I watched growing up.
Oh, my imaginary boyfriend Ali G is on the telly now, and he's interviewing Newt Gingrich! This will be funny. I am going now. Bye.
VIEW 20 of 20 COMMENTS
I would like a spa. You know in the "Girls On Film" video when the sumo guy gets a massage? That looks beneficial.
The word of the day is -- beneficial.
ps - When I saw these Yahoo news items early in the day about Garner going to restore order in Iraq, I thought Jennifer was going over there...turns out it's some dumb general.
Haha, Colbert flipped off Jon...
4/22/03 - please count me in the pit/vag groupies! ! !
[Edited on Apr 22, 2003]