i don't want no scrubs

well, that was what i thought.

then i thought, what the hell. i'll try them body scrubs.

and so i went to a nearby spa.

arranged to have ground coffee beans, honey, and warm water scrubbed all over my body.

the bed was slippery. they used linoleum. ick. should've used rubberized material. it's an accident waiting to happen.

a careful citrus body wash came first. then came the scrub.

the treatment itself was interesting. interesting because i loved the coffee smell.

except when one gets a body scrub, isn't the objective to get all your parts scrubbed? no hanky panky stuff here. i mean, shouldn't your jewels get a shine too? and shouldn't the entrance to the pearly gates be scrubbed as well?

did i expect too much and got too little? or is it just how scrubs go?

was the therapist expecting something more than a mere scrub?

a few of his not-so-subtle hints:

"sir, would you like to turn off the lights so it's more romantic?" (er, whatever do you mean?)

fingers graze the jewels. (hell, if you should graze, just go ahead and polish them outright. right?)

hands enter the neatly trimmed forbidden forest. (again, just go clean the woodlands, will ya?)

a carefully placed showerhead to moisten the entrance to the pearly gates. (should've scrubbed it before hosing it down, man!)

and as i stand showering, clearing myself of the ground coffee, the half-naked therapist watches unabashedly at james and the peaches - dangling and wet- and smiles. (um, you like what you see, j?)

*sigh*

i must try another spa's scrub for comparison.