#76 – Get a massage.

First things first – let me tell you I get massages monthly. Thanks to the size of my ta-ta’s the doctor wrote me a note for massages a year ago, and my health plan through work is wonderful enough to cover the entire expense. But they are not really REAL massages. You see, I race through rush hour traffic to get there, and then my massage therapist has become like a great friend so I talk to her throughout the entire hour long session. That’s right she’s a she, and I’m comfortable with her. I know what to expect every time I go. I also always keep on panties and feel bad if I forget on days where I have appointments and wear a thong as that’s often the line where she’ll tuck in the sheet. But still we talk for the hour, and then I’ll rush home to cook/clean etc, never really relaxing.

But I NEVER relax. It’s impossible for me to do. My brain doesn’t shut off and I’m always thinking about what I should be doing, or what I’ve got to do. I try to keep up with TV shows, and read books, etc to relax, but often enough the books pile up unread and the PVR is backlogged with unwatched shows. If I am in front of the TV I’m also folding clothes/sending e-mails/creating lists/painting my toe-nails etc, I never really sit still. I go every day until I crash and then I get up in the morning and hit the ground running – sometimes literally!

So this weekend my best friend decided that a day of relaxation and some girl time was exactly what the two of us needed. I agreed so off we went to: http://www.scandinave.com/en/bluemountain

I started the day with a 6am wake up (not my favourite for a Saturday), and a wrong turn ending up on some scenic gravel roads. To attempt to start to relax I pulled over at a scenic lookout point, and my café mocha and I watched the sunrise here:

After a few hours of driving and another Timmie’s stop we arrived, changed into bathing suits grabbed our robes and headed out to the pools. We spent hours going from hot tub, to cool plunge, to sauna or steam room or campfire and repeat. All sounds lovely and relaxing doesn’t it? The entire time I was counting down the minutes until the dreaded time of 1:15 where I was going to cheat on my massage therapist. Plus, I was uncomfortable and on edge because I didn’t even know who was going to be massaging me – male or female?! There was absolutely no relaxing going on for this chick, I spent my time trying not to get "shhhhh’d" by the shhhhhh police – as you know serenity is not achieved with lots of noise. Who knew?

1pm rolls around and there are probably 13 women waiting for the massage therapists to come out of their rooms. A door beside me opens and this absolutely beautiful male specimen walks out and smiles at me. My thoughts are exactly 'OHGODNO. Please, OHGODNO!’ He asks if my name is Denise – I reply no and then thank every lucky penny that it’s not. I could NOT handle an hour with that guy naked. That’s right NAKED. As our bathing suits are soaked from the pools you’re not about to get a massage for an hour in a wet suit. I sit up and check out all the massage therapists and decide that any one of them will be perfectly acceptable. Names are called and the women start to part, I continue to sit, I don’t hear my name. Mr. Yummy massage therapist is also not being able to find Denise. I still sit avoiding eye contact and in my head contemplating maybe I got lucky and my therapist got sick or something and I don’t actually have to get a massage and I can just go back to hanging out in the hot tubs. WRONG. Mr. I-should-be-a-male-model-and-not-a-massage-therapist asks me my last name. Yup – they booked me under the wrong first name, and within a minute I’m naked under a sheet repeating “f$#k this”, over and over and over, and over until he comes in. I explain to him that I don’t relax, so not to take it personally – he took that as a challenge.

My massage therapist only massages my back/shoulders and neck with a little oil. Not this guy – he started at the feet with enough oil to turn the massage bed into a slip ‘n slide (that’s after he was lifting the sheet and tucking it places where I’m not used to). Of course to ease the situation we make small talk about the drive up, and where he’s from, etc, and I manage for the majority of the hour. Until the last 10 minutes where he lifts the sheet and asks me to roll over. Up until this point he was just a voice, now there’s a face, and a smile. I’m pretty sure all of me turned 5 shades of red, and I again thanked all my lucky stars that I am not male, or this situation had the potential to be quite embarrassing. During that last 10 minutes I got my hands on the rarest most prized item in the entire spa (get your dirty minds out of the gutter). I got a dry towel. That’s right after you get in and out of the pools a million times your towel becomes a cold drenched item that is not at all drying and you only get 2 for the entire visit. Well Jason (that’s his name), decided that I should have a dry towel. Life was good.

I spent another 2 hours following the massage in la-la land, sitting around a campfire in 5 degree weather, in a wet bathing suit not even cold. Amazing. I will definitely go back and I recommend it to anyone and everyone who is ever in the area.

Jason told me that I need to make a daily effort to relax and that maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll truly be able to do it. I’ve been awake now for 8 hours, I’ve driven 2 hours home, gotten and put away groceries, ran 5km’s, done 2 loads of laundry, individually cleaned each piece of my vertical blinds, brushed my cat, lysol wiped the inside of both cars, picked out my outfits for the week (yes I’m that organized), and have written this entry. But here on out this day is about relaxing. I have 5+ hours of PVR’d TV shows, the book ‘eat pray love’, yesterday’s paper, and a soaker tub calling my name.

#76 ‘Get a massage’ or ‘Be Man-handled’ was not that bad. I think I’ll repeat next year :)

#61 – Open a bottle of champagne & My Guilty Pleasures

After reading that this blog should be about opening a bottle of champagne properly with a towel and that I should dry clean clothes that should be dry cleaned (you know I’ve reached that age) I’ve done neither. When I opened the bottle the cork shot half way across the room and both my sis and I screamed, and I dry clean nothing. Whoops.

I also drank the entire bottle – on a Wednesday, oopsie? Life happens – so I apologize for the grammar and whatever else goes down. It’s one of those days, and I suddenly have a new found love for spell check.

So now that I’m not embarrassed of what I find embarrassing about myself, let me tell you all about them and I’ll regret this NEVER. “I do not regret the things I’ve done, but those I did not do”.

1. 90210. I love this show. I used to love the original, but I’ve become hooked on the new version. I absolutely hate Gossip Girl, and all those I can dance/sing shows etc, but 90210 I watch religiously. I’m 10+ years out of the high school life (ugh, must drink more) but an hours worth of teen drama is exactly my cup of tea. Right now Rumor Willis (or the one with the chin?) is in it as a Lesbian hitting on my favourite characters– absolutely wonderful. AND how did Demi Moore & Bruce Willis produce something with that chin? Neither of them have it! Or, have they had it surgically removed?

2. Perez Hilton. Hooked. In the AM & PM I get my daily dish of celebrity dirt from Perez Hilton. Why do I care? I don’t know? Lives more interesting than mine are a distraction? I don’t know? But I’m hooked, plus I absolutely adore gay men – so that helps.

Crap. Broke the seal. Damn champagne. Keep this train of thought for me.....

3. Rap Music.You know the dance parties I speak of regularly? Well they happen numerous times daily. But lately due to my goal to accomplish all 101 things and require a beat to keep me moving, I’ve become a fan of rap. That’s right I’m talking Drake, Jay-Z, Rihanna, Kanye, Akon & T-Pain. These people make me move my ass and run when I don’t think I have the energy or strength, but they also make this chick think I have rapping skills at 8am on my way to work (I absolutely don’t, and I apologize if you ever see me.) But come on my pre 30 freak out wouldn’t be complete without lyrics like “Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip, the music’s for the sad man. Forever Young, I wanna be forever young”.

4. Whitney Houston. This woman pulls me out of every slump I’ve ever gotten myself into. I’m not into the whole 2010 post heroin Whitney, I’m talking early 90’s (I hate 80’s music – just as a side note). Many times over the years I have blasted “I want to dance with somebody”, while in all emotional states of mind. Hell, if this comes on while at work you’ll even catch me dancing where I shouldn’t be. I don’t care – it’s my 4:53 minutes of therapy, and it works.

5. Ok, this is the absolute worst. I can’t even believe that I’m admitting this. This started years ago when I’d have to drive 2+ hours home from school at night, and now randomly. I will, if I happen to find it while switching radio stations(last night), listen to the John Tesh radio show. Ugh. Can’t believe I typed that. Seriously ‘Intelligence for your Life’ is something that not only intrigues me intellectually, but also allows me to listen to all the embarrassing music I’d never admit to listening to on a regular basis. This is where I catch up on all the latest Michael Buble, etc, and being a music person this is important right? RIGHT?

Ok so there, you now know a few more random embarrassing tidbits about me. I’m also occasionally into beyond girly movies, and I treat Banditt (the warrior princess) as if he were a human being. It’s completely justified by the fact that he’s been around longer and been through more than most people with me.

I am a person that thrives on feeling alive. I need constant stimulation to avoid boredom and no matter what my age is, will never know truly who I am. As much as this would bother most people, to me it makes life more interesting.

This blog may not always be interesting and I sometimes feel uninspired, but I am never one to let anyone down – it’s against my persona.

Ok. T is telling me I should act my age and get sleep. I disagree, knowing that a café mocha and some rap music at 8am will revive me. Ahhh, the joy of being young :)

Also I'm about to be man-handled on the weekend in my quest to accomplish getting a massage - stay tuned.

Plan B

This weekend's Lotto 649 is 41 Million dollars. So here’s my Plan B.


Drive to Toronto, pick up the cash, hop on the first flight out of here to Vegas and live it up for a few days, followed by a stopover in NY to do some major shopping, before I come home and do the responsible things like:

Adios mortgage! I wouldn’t sell the house and buy bigger as I love the house. BUT, I’d refinish the hardwood, put in another bathroom, finish the garage, put in a hot tub, buy new furniture, and hire a gardener – read really, really, really, good looking lawn boy or two like the one a few years back on Desperate Housewives.

Next. Good bye job. It’s not that I don’t absolutely love sitting at a desk all day everyday wasting away paying other people, but I’d prefer to work at my own pace. Back in the day I held jobs at golf courses such as beer cart girl and pro shop manager and they were the best jobs ever. Being outside was great, and everyone at golf courses are usually in good moods, so I’d like to own my own golf course, so I’d buy one of those. There are also a lot of animal shelters around this area that are in dire need of help, so I’d donate to save them and save the animals, and I’d volunteer within them in my spare time.

Next would be the purchase of a cottage on Lake Huron and then people to maintain it, as with running a golf course I won’t be able to be there all the time. I’d like something with character that could hold a large family gathering if needed, and would be accessible in the winter.

Some new vehicles would be next. I’m not crazy about cars, but I’d like two. One being an Audi TT Roadster, only because I’ve wanted one of these forever. The other being maybe an Infiniti FX?

After that I’d help out family, invest, and then travel everywhere and anywhere whenever I wanted.

What would you do? You are handed 41 million dollars… what’s next?

I Heart Pavement

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m in love with pavement. I spend a lot of time with pavement and it never talks back and is always good to me. You’re thinking a love for pavement is absurd; well let me tell you why.


I have an hour daily commute on a 400 series highway. This stretch of pavement sees me at my best and at my worst. It throws all kinds of conditions at me and I still love it. Not only does it give you the chance to wake up and catch up on news and events in the morning, but it allows you to clear your head of work issues before you walk in the door at night.

My routine is almost the exact same every day yet I never recall seeing the same cars on my commute, so therefore I’m not ashamed to blast my music as loud as it can possibly go, and sing at the top of my lungs. This act can put me in a great mood in the morning before I’ve even had caffeine. With the same stretch of pavement you can almost put your car on auto drive and have a one woman dance party all the way to work. Ever have a free hour daily to do kegel exercises? Do it. Thank.Me.Later.

This stretch of pavement also hugs me after a hard day at work. When just the feeling of getting on the highway and up to a high speed feels like you’re escaping from everything. Where you can cry (the ugly cry) and no one notices. Ugly cry for a half hour and you’re exhausted, so when you walk in the door and the crying is over normal not so emotional conversations can be had, or you are so exhausted you just go to bed and ta-da horrible crappy day is now over.

But that pavement is waiting for you again in the morning no matter what mood you’re in – it never lets you down. Once in a while it covers itself with a layer of ice and a ton of snow where you get to white knuckle all the way to work and back –but what is life if there’s not a little fear put into you now and then? After scary commutes I respect pavement all that much more.

You’d think once I’ve gotten home I’d want to stay away from pavement? Wrong. In my quest to accomplish all of my 101 tasks, I put on sneakers and hit the pavement running. Sometimes the pavement is co-operative and you don’t feel like you’re running at all, it makes every step go further and feel lighter. There are other nights where pavement hates me and feels like its shooting daggers through my feet with every step, making my route seem longer and longer. It’s those nights when getting to the end makes the trek that much more worth it. So even when I hate the pavement, I still love it for showing me what I can do.

In fact, I spend more time with pavement than I do with T most days. So maybe I’m having an affair with pavement? Let’s see, it’s reliable, doesn’t judge or talk back, loves me at my best and worst, and is always hard :). Having an affair with pavement – maybe not such a bad thing!

Stock an Emergency Disaster Kit

So, I should be packing an emergency disaster kit of bottled water and canned food etc, you know in case some disaster of epic proportions hits this small Ontario town and I need it to survive. But how much fun would that be? Zero. So I’m bending the rules and instead I’ve decided I should put together an emergency disaster kit for when life hands it to you. You know – just in case. So if there’s ever a situation where I won’t eat, get dressed, or leave my bed (think Carrie Bradshaw after Mr.Big leaves her at the altar) here’s what you need to do:


1. In order to get me to eat anything you are going to need to drive to Scrogies in Sarnia Ontario and pick up their cheese cappelletti. It’s the BEST cappelletti I’ve ever had in all my life and I’ve been a cappelletti connoisseur for years. It’s got a zillion calories, does horrible things for digestive system, your ass and your thighs, but it’s worth every single calorie.

2. To get me to drink you will need to swing by the LCBO and pick up the largest bottle of Crown Royal you can get your hands on. Depending on the severity of handing it to me my life has just done also pick up a straw. If you are concerned for my liver also get Pepsi.

By this point I should be sitting up and able to concentrate on some form of entertainment. If I’m not go back to the LCBO and repeat step 2.

3. Put in season 1, episode 1 of the TV series ‘Felicity’. I LOVED that show. I wanted to be Felicity and have the horrible problem of choosing between super sensitive adorable Noel, or hardcore athletic hot Ben. I wanted her clothes, and her hair, and her apartments. Watching this will bring me back to a time in my youth where the opportunities ahead of me were endless, and therefore, will trick my subconscious into believing that there is hope for me.

4. Bring me the copy of Entertainment Weekly Magazine with Ryan Reynolds on the front of it. Here it is. I need say no more.

I should be able to get out of bed by now, but if not I may just need a little more caffeine…

5. Large Café Mocha from Tim Horton’s PLEASE. If they tell you they don’t have the whip cream to put on the top drive to the next Tim Horton’s – I don’t care how far away it is. Just do it. Café Mocha is not Café Mocha without the sweet taste of whip cream at the beginning and the end of it. Side note: If any of said whip cream ends up on the cover of Entertainment Weekly magazine it is a very good sign of recovery.

6. Put on my ipod and crank the music. Whether I’m happy or sad or anywhere in-between, I am always up for a good one woman dance party. Don’t judge by what’s on my ipod either– that’ll be revealed in my future guilty pleasures blog.

Once I’m done dancing – take me to the beach. There is a never a bad day at the beach.

OR, if you don’t have the energy to partake in pulling my ass back into reality – just don’t feed Banditt. Once he gets hungry enough he’ll drag my ass down to his food bowl himself!