2005-04-07 - 11:18 a.m.
I really need to start paying more attention to what my wife says.
For my lovely wife’s birthday, I booked a suite at a fancy smancy Cape Cod resort in Hyannis this weekend.
Last night she casually mentions that we are all set for the massages.
“We?” I asked. “What’s this we, stuff?” I distinctly recall her saying she was getting a massage. Not we.
My plan was while she went to the Spa for her girlie-girl massage, I’d hang out in the resort’s lounge, have a whiskey or two and generally behave like a Kennedy.
It seemed like a good, solid plan.
Nope.
She’s booked us for a “Couples Massage”. She claims we discussed this several times.
Huh. This is news to me.
I silently ran through all the mental notes about decisions we’ve recently made. I recalled a conversation about not using the chain saw while drinking, as well as agreeing not to answer all her questions with the phrase “Because I’m Batman.” I also specifically recall reaching an agreement to no longer refer to her brother as “Pig Fucker” (I will now refer to him as “The Alleged Pig Fucker”). However, I do not recall agreeing to a “couples massage”.
The last time the phrase “Couples Massage” was thrown at me was in a seedy little strip club on Bourbon street, where a sweaty toothless proprietor informed my lovely wife and I that for a $100, we could join the real show in the back room where they featured “Couple Massages”. We politely declined that invitation.
Catching cooties from skany crack whores just didn’t appeal to us.
My wife assures me that this “Couples Massage” will be different. This would be a “Classy, legitimate massage".
Images of smoking a big cigar while sipping cognac as a beautiful, Swedish bombshell rubs my shoulders came to mind. “Ok, But only if they call me “Mr. Nick Papageorgio”. I conceded.
Nick Papageorgio, you may recall is, Rusty’s alias in “Vegas Vacation” and is also my favorite fake name. I insist on playing the “make up names” game when ever we go away. Last time we went away, I was “Scooter”. My Lovely wife assumed the name “Ever Lasting Moon Beam”.
But I digress.
This morning, I checked the resorts web site and looked up their massage packages.
Good lord. It reads:
“…Choose between a
chocolate mint sugar scrub or a vanilla rose sugar scrub. After your skin is thoroughly exfoliated, enjoy a full body massage with our luxurious chocolate body butter. We’ll send you on your way for a romantic and relaxing evening, waiting in your room will be a cheese and cracker tray with a bottle of champagne. Your skin will be smooth, exfoliated, nourished and very relaxed.
Exfoliated??!?! Vanilla rose sugar scrub?!?! Chocolate Body Butter?!?!?!
Christ….Just draw me a bubble bath and call me Nancy, for Pete’s sake.
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