So tonight I went to an open house for a local spa/salon which sounds really fancy but in reality was just kind of awkward. At least it WAS until the BFF and I found the wine. Then it was just awkward for the other people around us. Ask Lotus. She was there. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you what jackasses we were. She was a little late getting there so I don’t think she realized at first that we were each at least 2 ½ glasses in. I think her first clue was probably during that presentation on eye lift cream when the dude put a drop of the stuff on my finger to try out and told me to “marry” my fingers before applying so I proceeded to have each one say “I do” and then kiss each other. That *might* have given me away as a drunk asshole. I don’t know. And then when he showed us a particularly fucked up set of “before” and “after” photos and the BFF was all “Well PLAYED, Kenneth,” even though his name was Nathan — I think that might have revealed HER to be a drunk asshole. I don’t know. Being on the other side of it, I really couldn’t say.
Either way, we didn’t feel awkward at all by that point.
Lotus might have, though.
And I’m pretty sure Kenneth did.
Did I mention that I wrote down the address of my blog for Nathan? I really don’t know why I did that. Hi, Nathan.
I’d also like to say to the Marketing Department of the spa/salon: You *might* want to tell the weird ladies who’ve had WAY too much plastic/collagen/Botox injected in their faces to stay home on Open House Night. Their presence did NOT make me want to explore the Wonderful World of Ridiculously Expensive Beauty Procedures and Products. It just freaked me the FUCK OUT.
For future reference, these are some of the people you should NOT invite to your beauty spa/salon’s next open house:
And by the way, Marketing Department, whoever came up with the name “chemical peel” should be fired. Because “chemical peel” sounds just awful. Like being flayed alive or something. With chemicals. So no, I don’t WANT my face to be “chemically peeled,” thanks. I WOULD, however, like to have it “prettified.” Do you have a “chemical prettifier”? I mean, something other than what other people like to call “Photoshop”? If you do, I’m totally IN. You don’t even need Kenneth’s train-wreck-before and underwear-model-after pictures. You can just go ahead and sign me up and I’ll be there.
Except – WHA–? FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS?!?!? Fuck YOU, Nathan! Fuck you! Just fuck you!
Lotus is so cute. Have I mentioned that? She’s young and sweet and cute and really, if she says anything else about having wrinkles I’m going to grab her cheeks and stretch them out as far as I can and then let go and see if they spring back into place or just sag.
Now would probably be a good time to mention that we went out for “dinner” afterwards, and by “dinner” I mean “a bunch of Mexican martinis and appetizers which were really just there as a drink beard.” And I just got home a little while ago and the room is kind of spinning. And I really want to get a unicorn drunk and see what happens. And I’m kind of confused (1) about the proper use of the term “beard” and (2) just in general.
What I’m trying to say is, this would be a really horrible time for me to watch the latest episode of LOST.
So anyway, we did this spa thing and did I tell you that I totally suckered the BFF and Lotus into going because if they’d had something done there I would get a $25 credit to my account for each of them? Oh, I didn’t mention that? Yeah, I didn’t mention it to them either, until they were already there. But then when they finally got wise I was all “Look! FREE WINE!” and now we’re just kind of back at the beginning of the story.
I’m sorry. I’m telling this all wrong. When I drink my timeline gets all fucked up. On second thought, now might be the PERFECT time to watch LOST.
It just occurred to me that I’m probably not going to feel very good tomorrow.
So skipping back to the end of the story, we’re at “dinner” when the BFF gets this random phone call and it turns out they did door prizes at this salon thing and SHE WON A BUNCH OF BOTOX, which is completely LAME because (1) she didn’t even want to GO to this open house and (B) I CLEARLY deserve to have poison injected into my face more than she does and (iii) I don’t think I even get a $25 credit for that.
Oh, and this really doesn’t have anything to do with anything but a quick note to the “friend” who’s always conveniently “busy” when I call, then you say you’ll call back but never do: You’re an asshole. You suck and I’m awesome and if you HAD called me back today like you said you would, we would have had a really magical conversation and you would have learned amazing things like the fact that lobsters urinate when other lobsters act aggressively toward them and also this week’s winning lottery numbers. But now you’ll never know those things, or any of the other wonderful things I could have shared with you, because you never called me back. Oh, also — fuck off.
Lordy, my head is spinning. And I just had a five-minute conversation with myself about how pink is really just the poor man’s purple. I was incredibly convincing.
I think I probably forgot to mention that I bought $80 worth of shit for my face that probably isn’t going to work. Don’t tell the Big Bean. It’ll be our little secret, Internet. Just between you and me. K?
Now I’m sleepy. And my head is hot. Like, hotter than the rest of my body. I’d really like to turn the air conditioner down a few degrees, but there’s no “head-only” setting.
OMG there’s my million-dollar invention idea! Totally adding “head-only air conditioning” to my list. So far I’ve also got the “Ice Net” for catching those errant cubes that ALWAYS fall when I get ice from the freezer and the “Front Only Dryer Cage,” which will be a special compartment of the dryer where you can put the stuff you want the most without having to search for it. That particular gem came to me when I realized that my dryer is magic and not only senses the things that I want the most but also makes SURE those things are ALWAYS in the back, at the bottom. Always. Always.
I love Lotus. And the BFF. I have no idea what just happened on LOST. And I bet I dream about drunk unicorns tonight.
Oh, well. Fuck it.