spanked by a stranger!

Okay, so I was told that no matter how many pedicures you've gotten all your life, consider them zilch if you haven't gotten one done by a Man. It's gotta do with pressure, I was told. Brute force. The only way that you can experience that 'oh'-inducing pain-pleasure of a foot massage. Pulp Fiction, I was reminded. But when I was haunted with the prospect of an absolutely unplanned, blank three-day weekend when all my friends were too busy to get outta town, I placed Pulp firmly back on the DVD rack, and headed to the parlour.
Got one of those reticent pencil-moustached boys, a little grumpy but not altogether jaded (or gum-chewing smart alecky, for heaven's sake). It started out well, when he expertly sloughed the holy dust off my grubby knarly feet. It was drizzling dead skin on his black towel as he battled with my soles, making me well up with joy as he buffed and polished my toe nails (also when the woman next to me drizzled as much dead skin as I), and then removed toe jam with such utter concentration, it was almost disturbing. So far so good.
Then, he began massaging. Just when I had begun to think that I've probably never had this kind of intimacy with any man, I was proved wrong. It was altogether strange to have a stranger do swirling rubs on the back of my knees, squeeze my calves, and and and and... spank them just a little lightly! I know it's supposed to be a massage technique (and he looked most bored when he was doing it) but I mean, if you just look at the action, it's a little too...erm.. perversely hanky-spanky. Not saying it didn't feel good. So good, I got a head massage too. (Gawd I sound deliriously desparate).
Weekend was fun, having begun on such a marvellous note. Yesterday I went to CP to buy gifts for the MTBs, and shopped twice as much for myself. Which reminds me, Khadi gramudyog should hire good copywriters, NOW! I went to their ayurvedic cosmetics section, and was looking for some help over shampoo (they have a shitload of choices), when I made the mistake of trying to read the labels. They make NO sense at all. I will just quote to avoid my usual flurry of adjectives:
Honey and Vanilla conditioner: KHADI HERBAL HAIR CONDITIONER THAT HELP SMOOTH & EASY COMBING MAKES HAIR SOFT, SILKY, SHINY, LUSTER AND HEALTHY HAIR, GROWTH, WELL HYDRATED & SOFT.
Not only is it a most likely inspiration for Eats Shoots and Leaves, complete with a smattering of babu intonations, it also promises to do so many things to the hair as to make you immediately suspicious. And the directions that follow are for shampoo use! The good thing though is that it makes my hair smell like it's just been triple-dunked in vanilla milk shake (thankfully, it hasn't made it look like that) .
More good news as Yamzie told me her bro's outta town for the weekend and that a girlie drunkie night at her place was a possibility. We made it a cheap (quality, not the money tho)wine and cigarettes night (very Bridget Jonesy, I look back now), and I made the mistake of drinking alone with her yet again. The last time just the two of us went drinking was after a CP stroll, stopping to catch just a couple of micheladas at Rodeo. I counted upto 7, after which I swayed and shimmied (and screamed when I talked coz I couldn't hear myself) on my Metro ride back home, got into my room, and crashed about a split-second later. In the morning, when I was swirling disprins in water, i saw yamz' last nite's message, sent about half an hour after I got home: 'Am going drinking again! Yay!', making me a giddy as a gorgonzolla goose goldfish. So, we finished two bottles of red wine between us lat night, and I had the sense to down the disprins before I went to sleep (as learnt from a friend after another friend-led vodka-shot self-annihilation program, in which my parents were involved as rescue operation team. Not so pretty.). Still woke up feeling pretty sick, but madam was fresh as a daisy, and raring to get to CP for a pancake breakfast! What? How! Why? No getting high beyond control. No puking. No getting sick. No hangover. It's as unfair as men being able to pee while standing.