*For those who did not understand my Charlie Chaplin meme from the last post. Let me break it down for ya. The man in the picture was (is) Charlie Chaplin. Hey Girl is a “famous” internet meme, which uses the face/abs of Ryan Gosling. As such:
Before you read on, I’d like to clarify two things
- For the purposes of this post, FWP is the acronym for First World Problems.
- *My friend, shall remain nameless.
Enter all, ye who are not prone to rolling their eyes. I warned ye. Uh, yer. I warned you, ok.
I’d like to tell you about a couple of FWP I have struggled with over the past 36 hours.
If you aren’t familiar with FWP, let me help you understand. First, begin with the rap.
Next, look to history to explain
Get the drift? Good, now you can listen to my own FWPs!
I had two, count ’em, TWO run-ins with major cases of baby soft hands.
First, came those of the lovely lady who performed my pedicure. Despite her total stink-face, she was awesome. I thought maybe she was mad that it was so late in the day and she had to work on yet another set of toes. But no, that was just her “look”. It was her hands that did me in though. Ugh, smooth hands. It is really distracting to feel hands which seem to have zero friction, like a newborn’s.
Baby hands on adults really bother me. What happened to all their skin? Have they massaged it all away? How do they open jars? Forget about rock climbing. Now, I’m not talking about regular, soft hands. I’m talking about hands that have possibly burned all their fingerprints away. Like, creepy soft.
Next baby hands belonged to the awkward receptionist/masseuse who gave me a totally relaxing, yet extremely unnerving massage today.
Let’s back it up for a second.
I’ve mentioned before how my husband is the nicest guy. Like, ever. He had his heart set on seeing American Hustle, but knew I wasn’t super into it. We had left the babysitter, driven to the theater and were walking in when he let me change the course of our afternoon. Sushi and massages? Yes, yes, please.
There are these new reflexology/massage shops that have popped up all over the place. $35 for an hour foot massage, $30 at some places. It’s more than just a foot massage, they basically start from your head, massage down to your feet, flip you over and start again. It’s kind of a too good to be true thing. *My friend believes they are all money laundering houses. What do I care? I’m all about striking the iron while it’s hot, and these deals are smokin’!
I’ve always been massaged at these shops by women and have preferred it that way. *My friend seems to always get the men, which comes with its own special issue. They seem to stand near her in just a way where she can feel more than she bargains for. So, when the receptionist came over to start my massage, I wasn’t super excited. To begin with, he looked about 15. I’d like to bring you along on my massage journey. Please, step into my thoughts, as they streamed along through the course of 60 minutes. I started out pretty negative, but I can’t edit my thoughts for you. I MUST be honest with my FWP.
- Oh my God, he has baby hands, too?
- Why is he shaking? This isn’t good. He can only be shaking for one of three reasons. 1. He has never done a massage before, he’s only the receptionist. 2. He’s never touched a living female before. 3. He has some neurological disorder. I hope it’s number three. Wow, that’s really selfish. I want him to have nerve issues? Seriously, why is he shaking though?
- Holy crap, stop it with my hair. You’re totally messing it up.
- Ew. You are essentially a stranger with your hands on my face. I didn’t SEE you wash your hands. Why do they keep their sink in the back room? Ugh.
- Three analog clocks going at once? Why did no one think to buy a digital clock? The ticking is going to kill me.
- Oh my God, I can smell your breath. Stop breathing on me. It’s not bad, it’s just breath and it’s gross.
- I wonder if I can breathe through one nostril? Nope.
- I’ll breathe through my mouth.
- I wonder if he thinks it’s weird that I just opened my mouth.
- I wonder if he can smell all that hummus I ate?
- Ok good, moving down to arms.
- Please stop holding my hand to massage my arm. Your baby hands are so creepy.
- Ok, this is good. I’m relaxing now.
- Oh my God, you are shaking again. Stop it.
- He knows what he’s doing with feet. This is good again.
- Seriously? How long is the leg massage portion going to be? You are a little too into this part. Ok, you are a lot too into this part. Leave my leg alone.
- You are shaking again. Please don’t let me be the first female leg you’ve touched since your mother’s.
- Again, good with feet.
- My husband is snoring. I wonder if his masseuse (who is wearing a puffy black vest) is annoyed. Maybe it’s kind of a compliment?
- I need to wake him up, I don’t want him to feel like he wasted his money.
- I wish I wore something besides a tank top under my sweater. I think I’m encouraging my receptionist.
- Why am I being so vein? He’s a professional?
- Ok, it’s over. That was good.
- Nope, not over. I have to flip over.
- Oh man, my hair is crazy.
- I can’t fit my face through this chair-hole right.
- Oh God, my nose itches.
- Don’t open your eyes. You can’t see his feet.You’ll die. Wait, he’s wearing shoes. Still, keep them closed.
- Holy crap. He’s a shiatsu-ninja! This part is awesome.
- No more shaking, maybe his confidence is growing. Maybe he’s just only good at backs.
- Pressure point. Yes!
- Nope, shaking again.
- I hope he does that crazy hitting sound that I always hear *my friend get.
- Oh God, the hitting. Not good, just painful.
- Ok, it’s over. How can I slyly sit up and get this sweater back on?
I’m willing to bet there is someone out there, reading this, who is willing to pay for my ticket to a village in a remote area, where I have to worry about eating only non-poisonous insects and I have to sew my own clothing out of yak skin.
In an effort to keep this blog loosely tied to food, here is my recommendation for easy Paleo pumpkin pancakes, straight from Practical Paleo. The ingredients are super basic; pumpkin, mashed banana, eggs, baking soda, cinnamon, pumpkin pie spice and butter. These don’t need syrup, but add if you’d like. Until next time, I promise to try to be a better person and care more about second and third world problems and less about baby hands.