For the love of Rachel

No, not the one from “Friends”, but a real lady named Rachel. I could have sworn, that months ago when I got a Brazilian at The Skin Spa, that I wrote an ode to my waxer but alas I think I only mentioned her on Twitter and Facebook. I’d like to rectify that, especially since I told her this evening during a “Power Peel” facial that I wrote one about how wonderful she is (Sorry, Rach! I really looked for it too) and it prompted her to want to read my blog…

Sometime in mid September or early October I made an appointment at the Midtown location of the Skin Spa. I wanted to get another brazilian wax, at a different place so that I could do a comparison. My appointment was supposed to be with a woman named Nicole. Well Nicole ended up having to leave early so I was placed with a young woman named Rachel. At the time, I had no idea how much I would grow fond of Rachel within the 20 minutes it took her to wax my hoo-hah…

Rachel was professional – she explained to me what she would be doing, what kind of wax she was going to use and also told me not to worry at all. I explained that I’m a punk when it comes to pain and I may flinch A LOT but not to stop because I don’t believe in taking breaks. She assured me she that although she couldn’t make it hurt less (and hates when waxers lie about that ish), she could make the process as quick as possible. Normally, this should worry someone but who wants to have hot wax poured on their vagina to last an hour?  No one. Anyhoo, Rachel was true to her word and not only was she quick she was thorough. I was as smooth as a baby’s bottom just like my first wax.  Aside from her amazing hair removal super powers, I was most impressed with how comfortable she made me feel. As we all know, I’m not a fan of being touched by strangers for whatever the purpose. I even tense up when my regular doctor gives me an exam, but with Rach I was totally at ease. Perhaps it was her engaging nature, or her calm but sassy tone but whatever it was, I liked it. I liked her. And decided she would be m y  waxer from hence forth…

Fast forward through Facebook postings, Twitter feeds, and dinners with friends where I did nothing but talk about her. It’s now time for me to receive another wax. I’m on my way to maria’s and I gotta get this bush out the way before I get on the plane. After a 15 minute conversation with the Skin Spa- we could not find a suitable time to fit me in to see Rachel. In fact, I was told she was booked mostly through the new year. I was told I’d be seeing Allison instead. I won’t go into my experience with Allison in too much detail, except to say that for the 1st 5 to 10 minutes, I asked about Rachel’s whereabouts. And although Allison did a good job, I just didn’t feel it was as good as Rachel’s. For one, she missed some hair. Also, I was irritated afterwards, something that I didn’t experience with Rachel.  I then went on Facebook and Twitter and complained the entire evening about how pissed I was that I couldn’t get the waxer that I wanted. My friends had to calm me down and tell me, it was a good sign she was always booked because it means she was great at her job and I wasn’t the only one to notice. But whatthefuckever, I was still mad…

Again  fast forward some weeks, and I’ve decided it’s time to get a facial as I’m dreading getting a wax because I’m pretty positive I won’t be able to book Rachel. Hilariously enough I was told Nicole would be performing my power peel. However, when I got to the SS, the receptionist called Rachel…but I figured she was being called for someone else. Obviously if she had been free (like I asked over the phone and was told she was occupied) then I wouldn’t be meeting with Nicole. But nope…out popped Rachel. Of course, I wasn’t sure that was her- it had been so long since I’d seen her…I followed her into the room and we continued to look at eachother…and finally she goes “You’ve been here before”.  And I said “Yes I have. This is where I receive my brazilian waxes”.  And she then says , “Wait a minute. I think I’m the one who waxed you. I remember how funny you were.” And…with hope in my voice I say “Rachel ???!” and she goes “Yes that’s me!” and then go “OMG! I thought it was you! I’m so happy to see you again” and then we proceeded to have a love fest.

I guess at this point I don’t have to tell you what a wonderful peel she performed on my face. Again, with the über professionalism she explained each step and what each chemical/product did. And once again, she was quick yet efficient. She also let me know when she was usually free for waxing, so that I can avoid going to other people in the future (yes, I expressed how upset I’ve been at not seeing her for at least 6 minutes) and I was able to miraculously book a Brazilian with her to be given two weeks hence. So…thank you to Nicole for never showing up for your appointments.

*The Skin Spa, NYC: Midtown Location, Ask for Rachel F. http://www.skinspanewyork.com/gppc01/waxing?gclid=CIqj9_2Wwq4CFcHb4AodsBkeXA

The Right to Choose…

I’m sure you over zealous christians are about to jump on me for even writing that down. I think it’s because all of you associate that phrase with Baby Killer. I’m going to break it down for you:

The right to choose, is just what it states. The right to choose whether or not you’re going to have a baby. This includes a woman’s right to say “Hey, I want to have a quiver full of kids” and then go and have those babies.  Unfortunately a lot of people assume being a Pro-Choice advocate means that you believe nothing is wrong with abortion. Or that you think it’s okay to use abortion as a means of birth control. Or that you’re a slut who wants to wantonly have sex with people without caring about consequences. Mostly this is all untrue. Are there people who do behave as described ? Absolutely, just like there are people who have a bunch of kids and neglect them- but that isn’t everyone.

I notice that people who are extremely pro-life or right-wing conservatives will find the most heinous, extreme examples to use as their reasonings for why abortion should be illegal. And that’s great and all, but I’m very tired of having to defend mine and other women’s right to do what they think best with their own reproductive system. I just saw an article* about these two Australian Ethicists who are arguing the point that after a baby is born, if there’s something wrong with it, and it can be proven that they are not yet “human”, ethically it’s alright to employ an “after-birth abortion”- clearly this is wrong. This is murder, infanticide. Once the baby is out of the womb, the baby has the same rights to life as any citizen. But this is the kind of thing these conservatives say all Pro-Choice people believe in. We do not. As I stated, we believe that a woman has a right to do as she sees fit with her own body; if that means having kids or not.  I also find, that we are believed to feel no remorse or suffer no emotional consequence for going through an abortion. This is untrue. Every single woman I know who has gone through one, has never been happy about it. Have in fact, gone on to have children when they were more equipped to handle motherhood.  We do not endorse the wanton killing of children, and to promote otherwise is unfair and extremely erroneous.

And some more food for thought:  Abortion may be “wrong”, but it’s my legal right to choose that I get one.  And I’m asking you, as a fellow citizen, to respect that right. It doesn’t mean I’m going to run to the abortion clinic the moment the strip turns blue. And before you consider infringing on my rights, perhaps you should consider how you would feel if the government went all China on our ass. Wait…what? Yes. What if the government decided that not only could they determine  how many kids you have but what gender was more important. How would you feel if a government/law official came into your home, and took 2 out of your 5 kids away, because you were over the quota, and then euthanized them because they weren’t boys. Or better yet, what if the government determined you shouldn’t have kids at all. Now what? One infringement can lead to others…keep that in mind before you start on your extremist rants.

**Link to the article referenced: http://liveaction.org/blog/outrageous-ethicists-argue-for-acceptance-of-after-birth-abortions/

From Misfit to Misfit

Dear fellow bully victims,

Yes, I said “fellow”. I was once a victim too. I understand. I get what its like to feel like everyone is against you and you can’t tell anyone who’ll actually help. I know what its like to want to hurt the people hurting you. I even understand the compulsion to kill a few. But taking a life isn’t the answer. I’m not telling you not to stand up for yourselves, but do you really want to spend the rest of your lives in prison over these dipshits who can’t recognize you’re awesome?

And I’ll warn you now, most adults aren’t going to understand where you’re coming from. Especially if they’ve never been bullied. But that doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to go all postal on mofoes. Granted, I’m the first person to say go punch someone in the face, but broken noses heal. You can’t give back a life, once it’s taken. Yours or the other person’s. Please remember that when you’re on your way to becoming a News at 11 story. 

Its going to be hard. It’s going to feel impossible. It’s going to feel like you’ll be stuck around these douchelords forever. But it DOES get better. Not for everyone, but for a lot of us. I have friends now. Real friends, who love me and have my back always. They’re amazing people who would never tolerate someone like us being treated like crap. If I can manage to find these folks, so can you. It’ll happen.  And one day, although you’ll still carry some emotional scars, these events and these people won’t matter.  I know what I’m saying sounds cliché and like unicorn feces, but I’m speaking from real experience. In a couple of years, you’ll never have to deal with these low-lives again.

And one last thing: in a few years, those same people who made you feel like shit, will try to friend you on Facebook or whatever social media equivalent. They will act as though they don’t remember what absolute turds they were to you. It will feel AMAZEBALLS when you tell them to go fuck themselves. Just wait for it. I did, and it was worth every single second.

Love Always,

Gail Misfit Fo’Eva Newbold.

How to shrink a t-shirt

I asked my sister Maria how to do this, because she simply knows how to do everything on Earth. However, she’s at work right now and I have to wait for a response, so in the meanwhile I “googled” and this is what I found:

Asked by richardhenry (12585 ) July 25th, 2008

I was recently given a shirt I really enjoy, but it’s a little too big, especially on the sleeves. What’s the best way to deliberately shrink a shirt in the wash? It has some print on it, but otherwise is made out of cotton.

Response:

Wash in hot water then put it in the hot dryer. Be sure to turn it inside out first to protect the print. If that doesn’t work find Rick Moranis and see if you can use his shrinking machine. Or just do what I do when I have something to big to wear- eat more.

**I am laughing hysterically. I hope that those reading this get the Rick Moranis reference. If not, please don’t follow this blog again. Thank you.**

 

Conversations with Fidiots…

As some of you know, we receive Transit Checks at the bank. Every month they’re issued by our HR Dept’s Assistant, Yvonne. She either keeps them at her desk, or she gives them to Deon who then takes them to the other branches. So please explain to me why this happened:

Hector (VP from Cashzone): Hey, do you have the transit checks?

Gail: Um no. Yvonne has them, like always.

Hector: Oh, well I figured Deon had them.

Gail: Am I Deon? He’s at his desk, you can go ask him if he has them.

Hector: Well Yvonne mentioned that she gave them to him.

Gail: Again, am I Deon? What kind of sense does this make?

Hector: I was just asking (walks away with an attitude; and NOT towards Deon’s desk)

**And these people make more money than I do**

 

Dirty Donuts…

I’ve never been a fan of Tim Horton’s. I’m sure that in other states, and even in other parts of New York City its a nice enough establishment.  But when it’s on the ground floor of Penn Station next to the LIRR tracks , and where crackheads are free to roam, it’s nothing but a dingy hole that serves stale pastries.

Of course now you ask yourselves, but Gail if you feel this place is so gross why were you there and how did you come to discover this eatery? I’ll tell you how. Jaime Berkowitz, and her ditsy wonder twin cohort Kristian Bradley. Apparently, a few nights prior, they spent some quality time having a food fight. Yes, you read correctly- a food fight. One major character in this fight was the Strawberry Jelly Donut, or who I like to call: Dirty. Dirty doesn’t even look like your normal jelly d. He looks plastic and uneatable, and the jelly doesn’t even look like jelly. It’s this clear thick stuff that has slight strawberry coloring. I was able to really get a good look at him, when Jaime and Kris decided to perform a reenactment…

I’m not sure if there was any police involvement during their first fight, but an officer approached them last night. Asking if everything was fine. Kris told the officer that although this looked like a very serious matter, it was all good and we were all just playing. Jaime was in a headlock at the time, with Kristian holding Dirty against her face. The office, like a spaz, walked away with a warning for them to cut it out.  They of course did not. But before you believe, for even a minute, that Kris had the upper hand you’re incorrect. Despite him using his best gumby-slide finishing moves, Jaime Berkowitz- JBerk on the mean streets of any city- was able to patiently stalk him like a tigress going in for the kill. Kris, believing that Jaime was attempting to make contact for a body shot, left all items on his person unguarded and before he knew it his hat was gone…

Jaime snatched his hat, quick as a professional pick pocket, and used the remainder of Dirty inside of said hat. She made sure to grind those remains inside the hat pretty well, even twisting the cap in her hands before calmly walking up to her prey, and almost gently placing the hat back upon his head. She then smiled. At that point, the fight was concluded, JBerk the clear winner and off we went to purchase her return ticket to Philly. Where she met a gay midget, trying to cut her in line- but that’s a tale for another day…

 

Translating English to English. Another Shakespeare S/O

Lady Macbeth Says:

The raven himself is hoarse

That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan

Under my battlements. Come, you spirits

That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,

And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full

Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood.

Stop up the access and passage to remorse,

That no compunctious visitings of nature

Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between

The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,

And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers,

Wherever in your sightless substances

You wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night,

And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,

That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,

Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark

To cry “Hold, hold!”

 

The Translater says:

 

So the messenger is short of breath, like a hoarse raven, as he announces Duncan’s entrance into my fortress, where he will die. Come, you spirits that asist murderous thoughts, make me less like a woman and more like a man, and fill me from head to toe with deadly cruelty! Thicken my blood and clog up my veins so I won’t feel remorse, so that no human compassion can stop my evil plan or prevent me from accomplishing it! Come to my female breast and turn my mother’s milk into poisonous acid, you murdering demons, wherever you hide, invisible and waiting to do evil! Come, thick night, and cover the world in the darkest smoke of hell, so that my sharp knife can’t see the wound it cuts open, and so heaven can’t peep through the darkness and cry, “No! Stop!”

This was posted for those who would find this humorous. I’m chuckling at my desk…lol

My favorite Shakespeare moment

I had to memorize this once, for a Literature class in elemetary school. And I’ve loved it ever since. Mr Mark Antony was a right cheeky bastard:

William Shakespeare – Friends, Romans, countrymen (from Julius Caesar 3/2)

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest -
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men -
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

*the celo version of smooth criminal plays in the background*

Sometimes dead men do good things..

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2105916/Billionaire-Teddy-Forstmann-gives-trust-fund-lover-Padma-Lakshmis-daughter.html

Read this article. I personally feel this was a very sweet and nice thing for him to do. But I can already see  how the media is trying to make this seem like some kind of scandal. This is a major part of what’s wrong with society now. People can’t do nice things for one another, without someone finding something wrong or suspicious about the behavior. SMH @ the whole world.

And kudos to Padma for always dating upward. I like your swag, Mama.

*And because its on my mind, a quote from our friendly English bard*

The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones

That would be Shakespeare people…

The City of Sephardic Love and Food

Because I don’t want everyone assuming Philly is just filled with assholes who showed me a horrible time, I will write this blog about the other lovely places Jaime took me to for Obama Day weekend. Yes, you read that right…

Upon my arrival, Jaime whisked me away to the section of West Philly called “Little Mecca” (ok, it’s not officially called that but it’s where Allah rolls deep so come on), where our intention was to get a fish hoagie*. Unfortunately, the Hilal place was closed which prompted an entire editorial about how these Muslims have their facts wrong about their own religion. I mean, what Islamic place is closed on Sunday??? Especially when the one across the street was wide open..In any event, we went to the Middle Eastern bakery to have lunch (yes, that’s the same place across the street), where we ordered deliciousness. I had some kind of falafel and humus wrap, and Jaime had something that looked like a salmon pizza. But the real star of the show was the coffee. It was called The Dabke, and it turns out to really be a Lebanese Dance. Light Skinned Aladdin aka Abu knows how to do this dance, but would not perform it for us. Jaime even went so far as to ask twice for a performance, but to no avail. So to make up for it, she put cookies in her purse.

The next delicious spot was a lovely restaurant by the name of The Revolution House, where we met a lovely server by the name of Dennis The Cutie Patootie Menace. He was really feeling our vibe and decided to show us his special sauce…for the tator tots I ordered. He informed us that normally they o nly give it out with the fries, but it tastes amazing on everything so to give it a try. I can’t say Dennis was wrong, it was honey mustardy awesomeness in a cup. But, I began to doubt the name of the establishment. How do you call yourself the “Revolution house” but you have rules about what sauce can be used ? Ridiculous. But the food was excellent, and Dennis provided us with lovely company. And I must say, after finding out that he was from the same area as Jaime he fell in love with her South Philly Girl Swag (she will deny this when asked, so don’t believe a word she says, in fact don’t even ask her about it. Just believe everything I’ve written).

(skips over the events of the late evening/early morning)

The next day before my delayed departure (a 5:10 bus to NYC didn’t leave until 6pm),  we visited yet another eatery that I found amazing. It was called Sabrina’s and it’s a place where our favorite Philly Girl used to work. She informed me that although she left that job in a blaze of glory (her words) she still rather enjoyed their brunch options and their orange juice.  And I will agree. I’m very particular about my omelette’s and theirs was awesome. As was the imported orange juice. Imported from where? I don ‘t know, but I suspect it’s a place filled with magical orange elves that squeeze the juice out by hand. I was even in love with the nifty way they worded their menu (please notice the photo on the side)  However, before being able to enter Sabrina’s we had to get ourselves on a waiting list, and so to kill time JaiBe took me over to the Italian Market (that’s been over run by Mexicans). We entered a coffee shoppe, I believe it was called Anthony’s,  and they had a drink called The Nutty Irishman.  Naturally I got a cup. In fact, I got two cups. After brunch, I had Jaime walk me around to settle my stomach, just for the sole purpose of getting that next cup. It was the perfect blend of hazelnut and Irish cream- which I suspect my babies will look like one day…

I was then introduced, to the most racists establishment I’ve ever encountered. It’s a famous Philly Cheesesteak Place called: Geno’s. I would like for all of my friends to avoid this place at all costs. If you are in the Philly area and want a delicious Cheesesteak, please contact Jaime . She will give you at least 4 other options. These people have up signs that indicate that if you can not speak proper English, then you can’t get any food from their establishment. I was also informed that should you not order it in a particular, specific way (even if in perfectly comprehensible English) you won’t be served. Um…I’d like to burn this establishment to the ground. It’s a wonder so many people were lined up to get a damn sandwich from these people. They probably spit in it, if your skin is slightly darker than newly fallen snow. And before any of you tell me that I’m rude to people who call the bank who don’t speak English- that’s not true. I don’t like that they call and can’t communicate, but I’m never rude to them. They just don’t understand that I’m telling them I’m hanging up. Entirely different situation…

Any way, this blog was long. It has made me hungry. And I can’t wait to go back to Philly to try some  more places. Thank you again Jaime Berkowitz, for making Hernisha happy, and my tongue as well.

*hoagie: another word for hero-sandwich*