Lazy-Ass Bloggers

Hidey-Ho, Kids.

So you've probably been wondering WTF is up with us lately.

Bad jokes, kind-of funny pictures, deep thoughts...lazy, right?

Well, I'm on travel for the second week in a row and I am dead tired. Tried to come home early yesterday, but Mother Nature and her PMS-induced Blizzard From Hell put the kibosh on that plan. So here I am, on the road until Friday.

Nothing terribly interesting has happened this trip...er, these trips. I did stay at my first five-star hotel last week in Atlanta and decided that I wouldn't, actually, want to travel like that all the time.

I mean, it was lovely - a bit surreal, actually - but...if a person travels in the lap of luxury all the time...what does she consider a real treat? What is there to get excited about? What in the world impresses you when you're catered to every day of your life?

I've considered this before: If I was able to go out and buy everything I wanted, or travel wherever I liked, in luxury, whenever I wanted it, what would there be to look forward to? What would surprise me? Slumming?

Nope. I think I'll take middle class life with an occasional peek at the way the rich and famous live.

I like getting tickled to death when I find my hotel room features a four-foot-deep soaking tub and a plasma television embedded in the bathroom mirror.

And I actually like coming back to reality when I have to stay at a Courtyard by Marriott that hasn't been remodeled in 15 years.

The crunchy carpeting and oddly-stained sofas I can do without, but, you know, it's all a part of the ride. :o)

Knock Knock

Friday Fortune Cookie

Women are angels.
And when someone breaks our wings
We continue to fly...on broomsticks.
We are flexible.

Piper Down

We have a piper down. I repeat, we have a piper down.

No...it's alright. He's just pissed.

So I've been in Hotlanta since Sunday - I suppose I should have warned CG1.

On Friday I leave for Orlando - hey, CG, head's up.

Sorry for the sparse content update...I'll make it up to you later.

I promise.

Actual Conversation No. 47

Today I had a massage. A looonnnngggg massage.

Now, I really, really do NOT like to be touched - unless you mean it.

I'm not a hugger, not a pat-on-the-backer, practically homicidal when someone invades my personal space.

But DAMN I needed a massage. My shoulders have been hunched up around my ears for two weeks.

So I booked some time with a lovely, effeminate - but strong - boy at the local day spa. Back in December this same boy 'serviced' me during our Annual Anniversary Couples Massage.

Today he spends an hour on my shoulders - all forearms and elbows, nearly making me cry.
In a good way.

But you know me, I can't relax - it is a physical impossibility. So I chatter away the whole time, "Who is easier to work on, men or women?" "Is it more difficult for you to work on fat people?" "Don't you get really tired by the end of the day? Should I have made an earlier appointment?"

Yada. Yada. Yada.

So he finishes with my back and has me flip over. As I'm doing so I ask, "So am I left handed or right handed?" Thinking it is obvious based on which side has more knots.

He responds, "You know, I can't really tell. You could be left-handed but sleep on your right side. Or you could be right-handed but cradle the phone between your left ear and shoulder. It's hard to say."

I acknowledge that I'd never thought of that - he makes an excellent point.

Oh, but he doesn't stop there. He continues:

"So, you know, as far as I can tell, you really don't have a good side."

To which I HAD to respond:

"Oh, honey, you aren't the first man to tell me he can't find my good side."

He didn't say much after that.

Do you think he'll remember me when I go back next month? Bless him.