There's A Fire Starting In My Heart

This entry is going to be a bit of a mish-mash, so hold on tight.  I figure bullet points is the easiest way to go about this, since it's early in the morning and I'm not inclined at this point to put together fully coherent thoughts.

• I deleted my Facebook account.  It's just become too Big Brother-ish.  I don't like everyone and their uncle knowing all my business.  I had too many 'friends' who I would probably never speak to in real life.  Why do these people need to know about my daily life?  They don't.  Not to mention, Facebook is too much like high school.  If you've read any of my blogs or know anything about me, you'll know that high school and I didn't part on amicable terms.  Getting out of there was one of the greatest days of my life.  Why should I relive it electronically?
• That being said, I do still have Twitter and Foursquare accounts.  Neither have my picture or full name attached to them.  If you'd like to follow me on either application, you can find me @JStoutie.
• I'm slowly repairing a broken friendship (A., this isn't about you.  We're fixed!) and I'm so happy to be making baby steps back to open communication.  I know better than to let communication lapse.  It's the enemy of any good relationship.
• I'm a hypocrite.  I freely admit it.  For years I wanted no part of religion.  I think that harkens back to the day when I was 10 years old and attending summer Bible school at a friend's Southern Baptist church and the preacher told me I was going to Hell because Jesus hadn't saved me.  After that, I figured this Jesus dude must be a real ball buster and I didn't need any part of that.  That was nearly 20 years ago, and I'm finally starting to open my heart.  I've been to Catholic mass a couple times now, and I've also been doing a lot of reading.  What really did it for me was reading a book called The Shack by William P. Young.  Honestly, if you're on the fence about God or you just want a reaffirmation of your faith, I strongly urge you to read this book.  I don't plan on turning this blog into anything preachy, so don't worry.  Faith is making an appearance in my life, so I'm sure it will make an occasional appearance here as well.  I'm still snarky, but my edges have been softened a little.
• Prince Charming and I put the brakes on our nuptials in a big way.  The stress of planning a wedding got to both of us.  Nothing has changed about our relationship except that we're taking the time to enjoy each other instead of crazily running around trying to put together a huge shindig.  That's not what it should be about, and we both realize that after coming to our senses.  
• I'm only going to say this, and then leave the subject alone:  "Googling" someone isn't a good idea.  You only get half truths and misinformation.  Ask questions, don't try to do an amateur background check.
• I'm taking two classes for the summer semester that I'm pretty excited about.  Both are online which isn't my favorite, but my favorite professor and mentor, Dr. J., doesn't teach classes during the summer.  Online classes also give me the freedom to travel a bit and not have to be in Melbourne on any particular day.  I'm taking Business Organizations and Law Office Procedures.  They may sound boring to you, but they are both classes that are essential to my field and I'm looking forward to learning what I need and getting them out of the way.  Fall semester will be here before I can even blink.  I should probably start thinking about my Fall schedule, come to think of it.  
• If you like getting manicures or pedicures, you need to seek out a salon that uses Shellac nail polish.  The stuff is incredible.  My manicure lasts for almost 2 weeks with no chipping.  Also, if you're a runner and your polish rubs off your toes (PlumQueen, I'm talking to you), you need to try Shellac.  It's more expensive, but it's SO worth it.  That's an endorsement coming from the Queen of Unemployment.  If you're in Central FL, the best place to go is Sorelli Hair Studio.  I get all my salon services done there (hair, facials, waxing, nails, massage) and everyone there is awesome.  

Well, I think that's it for this time.  As usual, everything is up and down and up again.  I wouldn't have it any other way!

*Today's post title is courtesy of "Rolling In The Deep" by Adele.  Get that album, she's incredible.

Musings at the Mall

On Friday, after having a conversation about how gnarly Brian's toes looked in Friday-casual flip flops, I decided to treat myself to a much needed pedicure this weekend. I've been dying to get a suped-up pampering experience at my favorite spa in the area, Pia Esthetics in Westchase (also in South Tampa, but I'm closer to snobby Westchase), but my wallet doesn't like the sound of $45 for a pedicure as much as it does the $20 semi-shady jobs at the mall. I embarked on mission pedicure today while my boyfriend worked his annoying Sunday shift at the place "where shopping is a pleasure," and working is a bitch. I decided to go to the mall near where I work, because it happens to be one of the few malls in the area to have an Old Navy, and I happen to have a gift card for there. Why not spend some free money? Anyway, my plan was laid out: Go to the mall, hit up Starbucks for a Grande-Iced-Non-Fat-Upside-Down-Caramel-Macchiato (no joke) and then head to the nail place. The spa pedicure at the place in the mall is $20, which for me is do-able. It'll come as no surprise, I'm sure, that no one in this place speaks English. So I get directed to a pedicure throne like I'm a 747 taxiing down the runway (all they were lacking was the orange stick-thingies) and the woman proceeds to get down to business. I specified a spa pedicure before sitting down because that usually includes bath salts in the water and some foot massaging or other stuff that they justify charging an extra few bucks for. Whatever, just do your voodoo, lady. About 5 minutes in, she looks up at me and starts gesturing and saying something that I haven't the foggiest understanding of. She points to the jar of salts and finally says, "you want?" Yes, I want. Proceed.

Forty five minutes later it's all over. My tootsies are polished and callus free, under a drying lamp and little non-English speaking lady is at the desk writing up my check-out ticket. She brings it over. "That be firty dolla, maam." Firty? 3-0? How did the price jump ten fucking 'dolla'? Then it hit me... The salts. That's why she was asking me about the salts. DAMN! I was duped! Duped by Charlie, I tell ya. So I hand her my card and she says, "firty...?" with an expectant look in her eye. I said, "no, make it firty-five." Laugh. Go ahead. Yes I said firty. And yes I did mean to give her a tip. She has to touch feet for a living, for Godssake. Can you imagine? Ick.

She comes back with my card and the slip for me to sign. It's for firty dolla. Even. No tip line to enter a tip amount. I sign the slip silently and hand it back to her. I have no cash in my wallet. As soon as she walks away, I get up and leave the salon. I don't feel guilty. I call it bad pedicure karma. She shouldn't have duped me into $10 worth of worthless bath salts. There's your tip, lady. I tried.

Incendentially, I'll be going to Pia for my next pedicure. It would've cost me the same amount for my Starbucks and pedicure as it would for the Espresso Pedicure there. And they give you a cup of espresso while they work on your little piggies!