There's a fine line between ambience and danger.

I just got to the spa where I get my nails done. They dim the lights for ambience but it's so friggin' dark in here that it takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust.

The receptionist led me down a dark hallway. All I could see were the illuminated sconces. I followed closely so as not to run into any invisible walls. She stopped suddenly and invited me to take a seat.

I quickly scanned the room deep, dark void. I can't see any chairs, I thought.

"Go through that doorway," she encouraged me.

I don't effin' see a doorway! I didn't move or speak.

Finally, she pointed. Oh... I think I see an opening in the wall...

I successfully made it through the building without injury, but the point is turn up your damn lights. Thank you.

Complaint Department

I have three complaints for today.
1. Mother: You never reply to my emails. That's it, Ma. Your emails are going straight to my spam box from now on...until you reply to my last email with the video of the sneezing baby panda.

2. Most chain restaurants: When I ask for no bun on my burger, why do you take away my lettuce, tomato, pickles, and onions too?

3. NPR: I am so sick of your reports on the debt ceiling negotiations. (I crossed that out because everyone knows the government never negotiates anything.) Until August 2nd or until it's resolved, I don't care.

I'll balance out my complaints so as not to seem like a heartless jerk.
1. Salon: Thank you for rescheduling me with a different manicurist when I told you that I'm very picky about my French manicures. If I wanted a bad French, I'd do it myself.

2. World: I'm thankful that I have the luxury of being able to complain about such stupid things. There's a devastating famine in Somalia and here I am with a full belly and an upcoming nail appointment, complaining.

3. Flowers: Thank you for blooming in the small strip of woods between our condo and the golf course. I admire your beauty and perseverance every morning as I walk to my car. (Perseverance? Yes! Stay tuned for a blog entry about these flowers... Coming soon.)

Yeah... It's all for me.

I ordered food from the drive-thru and received two sets of utensils with my order, signifying that I ordered enough for two people.

Thank you for assuming I couldn't possibly eat this much food...but I can.

Everybody has nipples!

Tommy and I spent some time at our condo's clubhouse yesterday. It was sunny and hot: perfect for lounging in and around the outdoor pool. We had fun goofing off and horsing around in the cool water. (I cradled him baby-doll style in the pool. It makes me feel like I have super human strength.)

A mother and her young 3- or 4-year old daughter were playing on the steps leading into the pool. We passed them on the way out of the pool. As we walked by, the tiny girl looked at Tommy and said to her mom, "Look at that big man! Look at his nipples!!!"

I wasn't sure if I'd heard her correctly, so I confirmed it with Tommy once we were out of earshot. The mom replied to her daughter, "Everybody has nipples! But you don't talk about peoples' bodies. That's private."

I imagine the little girl thought to herself, "If it's private, why is he showing off with those shiny ornaments?!" Poor kids. They get such mixed messages.

It's a small world!

My dad is obsessed with soccer. He watches, plays, and used to coach soccer. He just gave me some interesting information about Ali Krieger, who plays for the United States women's national soccer team. Her name has been in the news after scoring the winning goal against Brazil this past Sunday.

Apparently, she's from Northern Virginia, where I grew up. My dad's best friend has two soccerphilic daughters who played against Ali when they were teenagers. Her father, John Krieger, used to coach soccer at a nearby high school. He and my dad competed when they played on opposing adult men's soccer teams.

Here's the most interesting thing my dad told me about Ali Krieger. "I punched her dad in the face once. He tackled me so I got up and I punched him."

My dad punched Ali Krieger's dad in the face. Small world!