Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Apocolypse Now

The world is coming to an end. El fin. Fino. La Fin. Daas enda. How do I know this you intriguingly ask? By the housing crisis? By increasing gas and food prices? Or by polar ice caps melting due to accelerated global warming caused by deforestation, increased gas emissions, and pollutants released into the atmosphere eventually causing the inevitable destruction of man-kind by the powerful laser-like rays of the sun and endless bouts of acid rain? Niet. The truth is, McCain is a wrinkly old man, people are cloning puppies, Clay Aiken had a child, and most important of all . . . Brett Favre was traded to the Jets!

Can you believe this? I certainly can't. Wanting Clay Aiken's offspring is like sewing your head to the back of your knee so you can get a better look at your ass. And isn't that bitch like 50 years old or something? Don't you risk giving birth to two-headed, one-eyed garden gnomes when your uterus is as old as the Constitution? I'm flabbergasted, dumbfounded, and literally speechless. Okay, well not literally, except for Paris Hilton pointing out the painfully obvious. Thanks, because we didn't know that McCain was so old he used to gangbang with the Hebrews. Just stick to flashing your cooter to the world honey, at least your good at that.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Out of Time

I suppose when it's your time to go, it's your time to go. I often wonder if there's somebody in heaven who's job is dedicated solely to monitoring an enormous room with billions of shelves full of clocks with every one's name on it, and when your clock indicates that your time is up, he picks up the receiver on the red phone with a one way line directly to the angel of death, (or he might even send an email) informing him of the people who need to be neutralized for the day.

I bring this up because a couple of months ago a man was virtually sawed in half by a great white shark about 150 yards off the coast of a popular beach in California, a tragedy that hasn't happened in 50 years. Apparently, the man was swimming with a group of athletes training for a triathlon, and he began lagging behind. A great white patrolling the waters for food was probably alerted to the presence of the swimmers splashing about on the surface and noticed the weak one in the group. Evolutionary behavior that has kept the shark alive for thousands of years, prompted the animal to investigate by taking a bite to check if this particular prey was edible. As with most great white attacks, the the warm blooded shark realized that it was a bony human and not a fat sea lion (which it prefers), so he let him go. Unfortunately, a 15 foot great white produces so much force by his bite and extremely sharp serrated teeth, that usually we bleed to death before we can be medically treated. Both this man's legs were fatally shredded and he died of blood loss well before his buddies could get him ashore. Although I think that this could have been prevented had he stayed with the group, this next story certainly proves that there's no denying when your card is pulled, even if you're safely on board.

I'm sure you guys heard about the lady who was killed in Florida by a 75 lb sting ray with a 5 ft wing span, while sunbathing in a boat yes? Well, if you didn't, I'll summarize the freakish accident for you. She was chillin' in her boat soaking up the sun, when a sting ray leaped in and bitch slapped her in the face impaled her in the neck with it's venomous barb, delivering her to an extremely bloody demise. They say that sting rays do not attack people, however I'm convinced that this particular creature was gunning precisely for her. This assassin of the sea surely had orders and there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. Case closed, welcome to heaven, the line on the left is for your linens during your stay and the line on the right is for your name tag and meal card. Trash is taken out on Tuesdays, recycle on Thursdays and your favorite TV shows are on every night.

Lightning strikes, broken elevators, derailed trains, rogue sting rays and any other totally random and outlandish method of death is only the creativity of the death dealer and nothing more than the result of an alarm clock going off. However, just for clarification, if you happen to be mauled by a bear while training it for a part in a movie, then you were definitely asking for it.

Friday, August 1, 2008


Ah yes, ladies and Gentlemen, summer is undoubtedly here. The lovely time of year when people are on vacation visiting the beach, the monuments, museums, and amusement parks, putting countless unforgiving miles on their feet. Never paying them any mind until the end of the day when they finally turn in for the night and realize that they've been mercilessly pummeling their feet by not only carrying their kids around for weeks, but also the extra pounds that have pounced on them since last Christmas when they quit smoking.

Of course I don't expect everyone to be worthy of my touch to have perfect feet, but for the love of humanity, (and your therapist) if your feet look like you could swoop down on a lake and catch a trout, or if they resemble concrete in any way, then it's probably time they met a pumice stone . . . . . . or an electrical sander.

The past month has been extremely busy, but as chance would have it my schedule has been gratuitously peppered with extra helpings of feet that could use some TLC. The last two weeks in particular have seen their fair share of travesties, but two nights ago I had a client that, hands down, had the most repulsive feet I have ever seen. Her heels had cracks in them that looked exactly like the ones you'd find in moistureless volcanic rock. If that weren't bad enough, the cracks were equally as black. These mammoth crevices swallowed massage cream like the dry barren earth of a desert would soak up the rain. I was convinced that her rough alligator feet had never seen a sock, touched a drop of moisture, and certainly never had an encounter with lotion.

As I continued to lather her death dealing razorblades of calloused flesh with cream, I did all I could to keep from throwing up. No amount of medicated heel cream or Shea butter would ever soften these Komodo Dragon feet. All I could do was try not to cut myself and move on as if nothing had happened, but something had indeed happened my friends, [cue extremely sad violin music] my love for massage died a little that day. Little pieces of my heart had become calloused and hard as stone, eventually becoming brittle and crumbling away as if they had witnessed Medusa's fatal glance.