The hardest part...

Has anyone ever noticed how much people can lie on their blogs?  I mean really, is there some blog police going around fact-checking?  Nope.  So anyone could post anything as truth and no one would know the difference.  You may be asking yourself why the heck I'm mentioning this.  Well, allow me to make sense of it all.  I follow some blogs.  Yes I realize you can scroll down my page on the right hand side and see what blogs I follow.  Those are just a few of the ones I read.  I'll occasionally read blogs that others are following.  Some blogs are funny, some are insightful, some are helpful, and some are just plain annoying and fake.  I recently came across one where every single post was a sermon.  I happened to know the author so the words really didn't mean what I'm sure she was trying to portray.  Here come the "hard part" of my blog.  I am completely turned off by blogs that spout out about how wonderful God is and how much He is working in their lives...blah, blah, blah.  Surprised?  I can hear the gasps all the way in Ankeny.

I believe in God.  I believe asking Jesus into my heart is the only way to Heaven.  I've grown up in one church or another.  But what I hate is when people are fake.  We all have issues.  We all have struggles and moments when the devil gets a hold of us and we question everything in our lives.  These are private moments.  Because really...can I check to see how much you're being persecuted?  Can I then check later to see how your life has changed?  Not really.  I have nothing to go by but your blog.

In my opinion (and again, this is MY blog so my opinion is just that...my opinion...don't send me hate mail), those who have blogs purely for the act of "preaching" at those who read it are indulgent and self-righteous.  Good for you that you've found amazing peace and glorious healing.  What works for you may not work for the rest of us so rubbing it in our face isn't very helpful.  It's like reading some of the parenting blogs where instead of being helped, I'm being told everything I'm doing wrong.  Lovely.

I have had many tell me that my postings are honest and funny.  This current post may be more honest than funny...

Grossness...

Has anyone ever pondered how gross movie theaters are?  I mean, really...it's disgusting if you truly think about it.

The other night Joel and I went to see a movie.  It was one of those rare date nights that we didn't want to waste just sitting at home shampooing the carpet or something lame (that happened to be MY idea for the night).  So even though there wasn't anything we really wanted to see, we went to a movie anyway.  Of course before the movie started, I thought I'd better go pee, lest I need to pee right as the movie is getting good.  I hate that.  I always feel like I'm going to miss something so I try to pee really fast.  Is that even physically possible?  I digress...

I went to the nearest bathroom and stopped just inside the door.  It was gross.  Apparently there had just been a rush of blind women in the bathroom because most of the paper towels were on the floor beside the trash can instead of in it.  I entered the first stall but it had something floating in the toilet so I moved on to the next one.  It looked clean-ish so it was the chosen stall.  I reached for the toilet paper and realized the end was resting on the floor...the wet floor.  I'm going to choose to believe that the floor was wet with water and not something even more disgusting.  I finished my business, washed my hands and left.  (oh...and I managed to get my paper towel inside the garbage can...yea, me!)  As I left I noticed that little card that hangs on the back of the door.  Ya know the one that employees have to initial every hour that the bathroom is fine?  Yep, it was initialed for 7pm.  Funny thing was that it wasn't yet 7.  So did "CP" just initial the card early or perhaps she's a time traveler?  It's a mystery.

So then Joel and I sat in the theater.  It was pretty empty so I rested my feet on the chair in front of me and laid my head back.  Then I got to thinking.  How many other people have put their heads on this exact spot?  Do I even want to know?  And if my dirty shoes are on the seat back in front of me, how many people have put their feet on my seat back?  So I'm putting my head on a potentially dirty, lice-infested cushion??  I quickly put my feet back on the ground and stepped in something sticky.

I decided I really don't want to know how dirty theaters really are.

Short White Robes

For Christmas this year, Joel got me a spa package at LaJames, a local massage and cosmetology school.  *side note - I've gone to LaJames a few times for massages and facials.  They're done by students so you end up getting a longer treatment for less $*  They have a package deal where you can pick 3 spa treatments from their "menu" (really?  a menu?  It's not like I'm ordering a steak!).  So I chose a glycolic peel, hot stone massage, and sea weed wrap.  All 3 were going to be new experiences for me.  Yea, me.

So I get there and get taken back for the glycolic peel.  I knew it was a type of facial so I was looking my personal best with absolutely no make-up and my hair thrown back in a headband.  Yep, I was attractive.  Hillary, my student-worker gave me a little white wrap thing and a robe and told me to get changed.  So I strip down and put on the wrap.  Really?  Apparently it's made for someone who is less than 5'3".  Now, I'm almost 6' tall.  So as I'm standing there, I'm showing a LOT of thigh.  I quickly throw on the robe thinking that'll cover my very white, very prickly legs (yep, forgot to shave that morning...oops).  Uh...no.  The robe was only a smidgen longer than the wrap.  *sigh*  Whatever, it's fine.  I'm just going to enjoy this morning of relaxation.  Hillary comes back in and does the peel.  It was marvelous.  I truly had no idea what it was when I booked it but it looked interesting.  It made my skin soft as a baby's butt.

Next was the hot stone massage.  I was thinking Hillary would just take me to a different massage room to wait for the massage therapist.  Silly me.  I had to go to a main waiting room.  Now, remember I'm still wearing my short white robe.  And I'm even looking better now that my face is all shiny from the peel and my hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions.  Lovely.  Oh and the best part?  On my feet were my snow boots.  That truly completed the outfit.  So as I sat down I kept trying to tug the robe down to cover a little more of my legs, all the while people are staring at me.  Finally the massage therapist came to save get me.  The hot stone massage was actually wonderful.

The sea weed wrap was...interesting.  I envisioned literal sea weed being wrapped about my arms and legs.  Instead is was like a watery mixture that was painted on my skin.  I had to lie down on a table that was covered in plastic.  I felt a little like a science experiment.  Oh and the best part?  It was freezing cold!  She had warned me it might be cool.  Really?  Cool?  It felt like ice cubes were being spread all over my body!  Then I was wrapped in more plastic wrap (yep, felt like I was on an episode of Dexter), a thermal thing, then blankets.  After 20 minutes of feeling like a mummy, it was all taken off.  Weird.  I'm not exactly sure what the point of the sea weed was but my skin did feel softer afterward.

Finally I was able to change back into my own clothes.  I was so sick of that stupid wrap and robe.  Next time I may just bring my own!!  At least then I wouldn't have to worry about showing a little too much skin.  Still, I had a very relaxing time so I'll have to overlook my embarrassing robe experience.

Let me just say...

So since this is my blog, I can rant about whatever I want, right?  That's my theory anyway.  So here's what's been bugging me these past few days.  To be fair, this has been bugging me for the past few months but it because worse during the Christmas season.  You'll see why...

Lately it seems that all my friends are selling things.  Now when I say friends, I really mean people-I-barely-know-but-seem-to-think-we're-bosom-buddies.  In the past few weeks, I have been invited to more parties and open houses than I know what to do with!  I got an invitation the other day from someone I used to talk to regularly but life happened and we've drifted apart.  When I opened the invitation I thought "awesome!  I really wanted to get connected with ______ again".  Nope, it was just an generic invitation to one of those parties where it's really just a sales pitch.  Nice.  Now, I've gone to some Pampered Chef parties and had a wonderful time.  I've even bought some other their products and been quite happy.  But call it what it is!  Don't invite me thinking it's going to be some great bonding experience.  Let's face it.  You'll say you're going to call but we both know you won't.  It'll turn into some sad teenage after-school special where I'm the pathetic loser-girl clinging to the hope you really do love me.

Here's what I think every time I get an invitation...
Mary Kay - so you're saying I'm ugly and need a makeover?  No?  So I just have bad skin?  Thanks.  (I actually use Mary Kay and really love it, just not the parties!)
31-gifts - huh?  Are there only 31 gifts to buy?  Because that's going to be a boring party.  And do I really need more gifts?
Pampered Chef - I am not a chef, nor am I pampered.  Enough said
Random food/spice/drink - my life is complicated enough without a lecture on how the foods I eat are causing my spleen to work too hard.  And it's how much?  Child, I could feed a 3rd world country for a month with that amount of money.
Longeberger Baskets - nope, don't need any of those.  I'm not one of the doily ladies quite yet.

Bottom line...I love parties and get-togethers to catch up with old friends and make new ones.  I do not however, like sales pitches camouflaged as a "party".  Not cool.  It's false advertising.