Spa Anxiety – When Sandalwood Attacks

My spa anxiety kicked in while filling in the form — I was handed a cup of hibiscus unicorn tears tea or something. I shouldn’t drink it because I’ll have to sprint to the toilet halfway through.

I felt nothing like this after my spa treatment

Then the change room. What do I need to take off? Everything? Just for a back massage?
So why are those useless disposable undies there? Am I supposed to wear them?
If yes, which way do they go? And why are they so see-through?

Which way does the robe go on?
Remember that time it had to go on backwards Hannibal Lecter style?

Do I have to wear these thongs? (Australian footwear usage)
Who wore them before? What if they had tinea / leprosy / the Black Death?

Ok, so far so good, I’m face down with my head poking through that furry toilet seat thing.

I’m only having a back massage, so why have my undies been simultaneously rolled down and aside to give me a pseudo Sumo / Bondi lifesaver style wedgie?

What if the therapist cracks something and I now have the communication skills of an artichoke?

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Why are they pressing so hard on my kidneys?
Feels like they’re going to burst through my scrotum.

Why am I oiled up like the last meal Elvis Presley ate?

What are you doing near my arse?

“How is the pressure?” I want to scream “You’re f*cking killing me!”, but don’t want to sound weak.

It’s over. “Yes that was wonderful, thanks.” I lied.

A massage in a spa is like a physiotherapy session at a demented dentist — accompanied by mystical rainforest music.

Great. Now I have post spa anxiety stress disorder.

Think I need a massage…

©Steve Williams 2015

Smokers’ rights? I call bullshit

Two words I always find amusing when used in the same sentence are “smokers” and “rights”.
It’s dead simple, they don’t have any.

Shazza enjoys a post-rant smoke

I remember a hilarious comment in response to a story about the NSW government in Australia banning smoking in commercial dining areas. I can’t recall the author’s name, so let’s call her “Shazza”.

Her erudite contribution was: “Non-smokers have all the inside space…”. What, in the world?
So us non-smokers should just shut up and never leave the lounge room? Why should smokers have territorial rights to a restaurant terrace with a panoramic sea view or even an outside table near a random pot plant? At least Shazza did suggest allocating a separate outdoor seating, eating and drinking area. They already have — it’s called your home.

Unfortunately, outdoor smoking areas have one major design flaw — smoke by nature is fairly unpredictable. I recall seeing a large yellow rectangle painted on the ground in front of a city office building complete with the words “Smoking Area”. I like to think they were taking the piss.

Just yesterday my wife and I wanted to enjoy lunch in a rather pleasant outdoor area of a cafe. Once we heard the click of a cigarette lighter we knew our enjoyment would be zero, so we left. Why should we have to? I wanted to breathe the cool garden air, not secondhand toxins from the pits of tar-filled lungs.

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but another reader (“Trevor”) who commented on the same story would make a worthy study:
“This is rediculous arent smokers banned from enough places, but drinking alcahol and getting blind drunk is totally acceptable? If you dont like it dont stand near us…”. Trev may have imbibed the odd vat of beer before hitting return.

Love the old “dont stand near us”, with an “alcahol” comparison chestnut being fired up.
At least “alcaholics” don’t have the potential to give me cancer. Vomit yes, fruity aromas, possibly violent assault and / or inappropriate displays of unwanted affection and / or slurred, off-key renditions of an Elvis classic, but not a potentially terminal illness.

Of course smokers have rights — in their own house or car or similar totally enclosed box
where I can’t smell it or them.

I realise it is a potentially tragic addiction for a lot of people,
but(t) there is absolutely no way it is a “right”. That is just a smokescreen.

©Steve Williams 2014

Cash For Corby — Schapelle It Out

Unless you have been living on the far side of the Sun, you would know that Australian drug smuggler Schapelle Corby has been released after serving nine years in Bali’s Kerobokan jail.

The beauty school dropout (had to use that) went from cell to sell, allegedly signing a contract with the Seven Network rumoured to be around $2 million. There has been a lot of anger and moral navel gazing about rewarding a convicted criminal, including outraged comments from one of the network’s biggest stars, David Koch.

Schapelle auditions for Downton Abbey

I think the criticism is extremely harsh, considering the enormous benefit Schapelle can bring to the network and the viewers of Australia. The sit-down “tell-all” interview with a weeping bonus may be on hold, but she could be better utilised across Seven’s other programs.

For starters, Deal Or No Deal, Smugglers, The Price Is Right, An Idiot Abroad, Reef Wranglers and Border Patrol are far too obvious — I’m thinking Schapelle could bust a few Balinese Barong moves or a boogie on Dancing With The Stars, then there’s Home Shopping and Pawn Stars.
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Other programming options include My Kitchen Rules — I’m sure Schapelle could plate up a nice caramelised onion tart — with some added greenery, and what about Million Dollar Minute
Apparently that would only take her about two.

Surf Patrol is a no-brainer given Schapelle’s experience with aquatic equipment and Better Homes and Gardens given her apparent green thumb. With her reported experience with mules, she’d be a natural for RSPCA Animal Rescue. I can also picture Schapelle’s mum on Cougar Town or World’s Strictest Parents, and the entire klan method-acting on Swamp People — Keeping Up With The Korbys. 

On second thoughts, I shouldn’t give them any ideas…

©Steve Williams 2014