Monday, April 28, 2014

Some Deals Aren't Always The Best Deals

Before I left for Stagecoach on Friday, I had to get a spray tan because I'm not going to be that cowgirl in the desert sporting pasty legs in my jean shorts! I bought a deal on Lifebooker at a tanning salon near the Beverly Center for only $17 and figured I would give it a go. For that price, what could go wrong? Well, where do I start? When I arrived at the salon, I had no choice but to stand in the doorway while I waited for my appointment because there was no where else to go. The salon was simply one skinny hallway with two hair stations (?), a desk, a bathroom and a curtain. I waited while the technician finished up the girl behind the curtain (it was exactly like the Wizard of Oz) even though I was on time for my appointment.

The girl came out behind the curtain in a towel and went into the bathroom to change while the technician told me I would be able to change once that girl came out. Oh boy! In most salons that I went to, every person got their own room but I'm not going to be a snob here for $17. So once that chick emerged from the tiny bathroom, I went in to change. I was told to get naked and put on the towel that was hanging behind the door and a shower cap that was in the basket on the back of the toilet. I did what I was told even though the towel was already stained with bronzer and the shower caps were all also brown with bronzer. $17 Erin, $17. Once I stepped out of the bathroom, I asked the technician where I should leave my purse and she told me I could leave it in the bathroom. Right when I stepped out into the salon, a lady in a towel came out of no where and went into the bathroom to change...with my purse. I thought it was a little strange but considering I could see the entire salon from behind the curtain, I figured it would be okay. I took my towel off behind the curtain and waited for my girl to mix up the solution. She stepped to the side of the curtain, opened the back door to the alley and began to mix up my solution on top of the dumpster in the alley. What the hell was going on?

Once she was ready to begin spraying me, I was happy to see that she knew what she was doing and even though I was being sprayed behind a curtain positioned in an odd spot in this salon, I would at least get a good glow out of this. I stepped up onto the platform (I swear it was an aerobic step covered with a towel) being cautious that I didn't touch the wet, bronze slicked wall directly behind me and positioned my body as told in odd puppet like positions so she could reach every spot evenly. When she was done, she told me to go into the bathroom to dry off and I was happy to say that my purse was still there in one piece. She turned on the dusty box fan (there was seriously three inches of dust on every blade on that thing) that was sitting on an unstable Ikea nightstand and told me to dry off for about 5 minutes. Once she shut the door, I busted out laughing because when she turned on the fan, the nightstand started rattling uncontrollably and I was wondering how the hell I was going to dry my legs. I stood there naked, in front of the rattling dust mite of a fan in the salon bathroom bending up and down and turning around and around, lifting one leg at a time then one arm and then other (I'm pretty sure I made up a dance routine) until I thought I was dry enough to get the hell out of there. I got dressed, shut off the fan and walked straight to my car...I did tip her $4 on the way out though, hoping that she would put that money towards a new fan.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Just A Prick Will Do The Trick

As you know, I am obsessed with trying different diets and I love depriving myself of delicious foods for short periods of time until I am ready to scratch my eyes out. Last week, Anthony came home with a book that his co-worker swears by called 'Eat Right For Your Type' that gives you a specific diet pertaining to your blood type. Now of course I was all over it, immediately texting my mom asking her what type I was. She didn't know and probably thought I was crazy for asking her because it's just not the type of text you normally get from your daughter. After an unsuccessful email to my doctor (who knew it was so hard to get your blood type?), Anthony and I decided to order a blood type test on Amazon because low and behold, he didn't know his type either.

After reading the book and hoping I was maybe Type O and not Type A because certain foods like pickles, sauerkraut, meat and mangoes were on the 'poison' list (WTF?), the tests arrived in the mail. I wanted to wait for Anthony so we could do it together (sweet, I know) but he told me to rip open the box and take mine first. After attempting to read the directions, I was still scratching my head, so I watched a You Tube tutorial video. In the video, a girl was demonstrating how to do the test on her friend aka the unsuspecting victim. After I saw him get really nervous the moment before she pricked his finger and heard him let out a scream after she did so, I was starting to sweat. I did all of the steps leading up to the prick and began pacing around the kitchen. I didn't want to do it to myself but I already put the water drops on the test so the clock was counting down. I had no choice, I had to do it. I twisted open the cap on the needle device thingy (it looked like the device that people with diabetes use to prick their finger) and of course it snapped in the wrong direction and broke. Shit! I attempted to take it apart and tried to prick my finger as instructed but got scared and barely touched my finger before I screamed. After sweating and pacing some more, I called Anthony for backup. He said I could do it so I tried it again. So I tried again with the busted device but I couldn't pull the trigger. So I got a sewing needle, sterilized it and tried to stab my finger. Nope, it just wasn't happening. Think, Erin, think!

How was I going to make myself bleed without seriously hurting myself? I thought about how I sometimes nicked my cuticles and made myself bleed when doing my nails so I got my tool out and began to 'cut my cuticles.' It worked but only a teeny tiny drop of blood came out. I was standing over the test, squeezing every last drop of blood out of the my cuticle literally and finally got what I needed to complete the test. And of course, from what I could tell, I was Type A. Shit!!! NO MORE PICKLES??? I was starting to convince myself that the book was a scam and there was no medical backup to prove this guy's theory. I could do without the no meat aspect of this diet but there was no way I could survive without pickles. Of course when Anthony got home, he opened his blood type test up and did it faster than I could put a band aid on my cuticle. He made it look so easy! He was also Type A which provoked double speculation and after we discovered the book was written and 1996 and Anthony read all the backlash online (things that could have been brought to my attention yesterday!) we shrugged and I ate a giant dill pickle.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Not Smart And Definitely Not Final

Today after an unannounced trip to Costco (the WORST place to go on the weekends) Anthony and I decided to head to Smart and Final (a grocery store for those of you East Coasters) to pick up a few more items. I wasn't carrying a purse, so I put my wallet, phone and shopping list in the red basket as we walked around the store collecting items. After we got everything we needed, we proceeded to the checkout. As I was unloading everything onto the belt, I realized that I had forgot something so I told Anthony to finish up and I would be right back. I reminded him about my personal items that were in the basket and scurried away to pick up that Tahini paste I forgot. (I know, I know who actually buys, let alone forgets the Tahini paste?)

Unfortunately, they didn't have Tahini paste so I ran back to the register just in time for Anthony to hand my my wallet to pay. As the lady was finishing up bagging and we were just about ready to walk away, I asked Anthony if he had my phone in his pocket. He said he didn't because he handed it to me. Clearly he didn't because it wasn't in my hand and I wasn't carrying a purse so I asked him to check again. Nothing. I told him to check the basket that he put on the ground as I asked the cashier to check around her register. Nothing. SHIT!!!!

I didn't know what to do, I felt lost without that damn phone! (Sad, I know). We went out to the car to check if it was in there even though I knew it wasn't because I was Googling "Tahini paste' in aisle 5 earlier. Luckily I had downloaded the 'Where's My iPhone' app and had Anthony pull it up on his phone. I logged into my account and low and behold my iPhone popped up. It was still turned on and in Smart and Final. After Anthony called it a few times, we decided to head back into the store. At this time, the iPhone was shut off and it was going straight to voicemail DOUBLE SHIT!!!! Once inside, we asked to speak with a manager and immediately I felt like I was on CSI. I was running up and down every aisle hoping to catch someone who either looked suspicious or who was blatantly using my phone. Nothing. While I was wildly running up and down the aisles, Anthony managed to find the manager and tell him our situation. He asked for our receipt so he could pull up the security camera footage for the exact time we checked out and see if he could figure it out. Guess who else wanted in on this little CSI fantasy of ours? The Smart and Final manager, that's who. I could just tell by the look on his face that this was the most exciting thing to happen all week. Lucky for me and my other CSI agent, Anthony, he let us in the double mirrored, secured office to watch the tape with him. This was getting good! So here we all are, three wannabe agents, huddled around a desk watching the footage of Anthony unloading the basket then forgetting to take out my cell phone (no comment), then placing the basket on the ground. And then it sat there.....the manager was hoping it wasn't one of his employees because he would have to fire them on the spot and I was hoping it was one of his employees because at least then I would know where my phone was. Then out of nowhere, this kid walks over while his mom is checking out, looks down at the basket, kicks it, ponders a bit, looks around and then bends down and puts it in his pocket! That little punk ass kid!

I was shocked and confused as to what to do now. Good thing the Smart and Final manager had watched way more CSI episodes than I because he suggested that we text the phone and say that we saw him on camera taking the phone and if he didn't return it within an hour we were calling the police. Genius. We thanked our fellow agent, gave him Anthony's number and went outside to wait in the squad car, er my car. Sorry, I was getting way to into it at this point. We had a suspect! I was getting so excited/nervous that I even got the red blotches on my chest. (Mom- you know exactly what I am talking about). Just as I was trying to think of our next move, my iPhone turned back on and the locater told us it was around the corner. Without even looking at each other, we knew what to do. It was now out mission to get the phone back, with or without our fellow agent/Smart and Final manager.

We drove around the block a few times until the ping on the app told us we were right in front of where my phone was. We pulled over in front of this ratty looking apartment building and looked at each other. Should we call the cops? Just as we were trying to figure out if 911 would be appropriate in this type of situation or if we would just call the local police department, we saw that little punk ass kid from the surveillance tape! My heart was racing. The kid came outside looking scared just as another kid pulled up on a bike. The bad kid who stole my phone kept reaching in his pocket and finally pulled out a black iPhone. I was a little discouraged because I had a pink case on mine and at that moment I thought we had the wrong suspect. But Anthony was confident and hopped out of the car. Just as he was walking up to them he overheard the bad kid tell the kid on the bike (we'll call him witness #1) something about the cops and a video at Smart and Final. Bingo! My brave man (mind you, this kid was probably ten years old) walked right up to him and witness #1 and said, "Did you find that phone at Smart and Final? You better give it back to me!" (He knew it was mine because even though bad kid ditched the case, you can't hide the giant crack in the screen- which makes me ponder why he would even take a cracked phone?) And just like that the bad kid handed it back and we drove away like two CSI agents who had just solved the crime. Of course we called our fellow crime stopper at Smart and Final and told him how it all went down. It was a proud moment for us all.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Best (Early) Birthday Gift EVER!

As I do almost everyday, I collect the various packages from our mailbox to give to my Amazon obsessed fiance. But yesterday there was a special package in the mix....for me! Even though my birthday isn't for another month, my man gave me the BEST gift ever. And after I tell you what it is (and after you stop laughing), I will give you the back story. 

I bought an amazing white sweater from MACY's in December and after wearing only a couple of times, it started to pill like a madman. I tried picking them off (time consuming), using duct tape (didn't work) and even placing it in the back of my closet to forget about it. But I missed it and I wanted to wear it and not look like crap. So, I brought it to my dry cleaners to see if he could work his magic. He raised his thick, gray eyebrows and said he would do his best. Three days after I dropped off the sweater, he called and said my sweater broke the fabric shaver machine and he needed a few more days. Okay....I'll give him a week to cool off- he didn't seem very happy. When I finally got the call that my fave sweater was ready, I practically skipped down the street to pick it up. When I walked in, he gave me a very devious smile as if to say, 'ahhh- the sweater girl!' For about ten minutes he belittled that sweater (in front of me) and basically told me he never wanted to see it again. He handed me an envelope full of all the pilly lint he pulled off the sweater (what the hell was I going to do with that?) and told me to say hi to his buddy, Anthony. Great- so now I was going to be their little joke! "Your fiance and her damn sweater! Blah Blah Blah..."

Cut to present day with that Amazon package in hand, me sweating with anticipation, Anthony beaming with pride. I open it and it's my very own 'In Edge' fabric shaver!!!! Yeah, I know- I am getting old....Next year I will probably get a vacuum cleaner or a new toilet brush. But the best part about my gift? Not only is my sweater perfect again but our couch has been experiencing a bit of a pill problem as well and I got to use my new fabric shaver on that to boot! I sat there for about fifteen minutes last night de-pilling our couch stroke by stroke, cushion by cushion. It was amazing! I'm just glad we don't have any pets because I'm sure I would have tried to experiment on them....