mercredi, août 02, 2006

Up My Nose with a Rubber Hose

A Little Background
By Duf

By way of background, first let me say that I don’t drink anything with caffeine in it.

It’s not because my body is a temple or anything, it’s because caffeine makes me feel jittery and sick.

And now that you have the background, let me tell you a little story.

A Little Story
By Duf

So, my office is close to the Mall of America.

Don’t hate.

Yesterday we were hosting visitors from another state, and they loved the mall so much we went there twice (Monday and Tuesday). Monday I shopped with them (oh did I shop with them. I exhausted my allowance* on some fancy headphones, and I bought three shirts made by some fancy schmancy designer**).

Yesterday (a.k.a. Tuesday) I was too tired to shop. And let me note here, that I’m not much of a shopper anyway, and I kinda sorta hate the Mall of America. It’s too much.

So, instead of shopping I went to an Oxygen bar in the mall for 20 minutes of oxygen therapy.

I’d never been before. I'd never had oxygen therapy before.

It all starts with them sticking two little outlets up your nose.
The outlets are connected to a small hose.
Then you sit in a really nice massage chair, and they turn the oxygen on.
You can add scents to the oxygen, and the scents vary at every chair.
I chose forest (fir, balsam and some-other-tree scent).
At my chair they also had vanilla and cranberry.
One can do all three flavors at once, but I chose just forest.
I breathed in the oxygen and the forest fragrance for 15 minutes.
Then you go to the dessert bar where you get 5 more minutes of oxygen with fruitier flavors (I chose “ocean”) while you drink an energy drink and they scratch your back with a little back scratcher.
Then they throw away your nose piece and hose.
Then you pay 20 dollars***, and you don't have to go home, but...

Anyway, friends, can I just say? I loved it.

Except for one thing.

I had my oxygen therapy at 5:00 p.m., and the energy drink had me bouncing off the ceiling until 2:00 a.m. I felt jittery and sick even as the scent of pine trees lingered in my nostrils tempting me away from the city and its chaotic chambers of commerce and excess, even as I tried to imagine myself back in the fancy massage chair, lingering, lingering, lingering, even as I lied in my bed waiting and waiting until I finally, finally, finally went to sleep.

*Yes, I’m serious I have an allowance. I use it as mad money. I have a short poem that explains what I use my allowance for:

Allowance Poem
By Duf

green fees
whatever else I please.

The allowance is a great way to prevent arguments. Mrs. Duf is significantly more frugal than I am (most of the world is more frugal than I am). If we did not have an allowance, every time I walked in the house with a hard cover book (I use it for books a lot too, but “books” doesn’t work with my poem), she’d have a coronary. To illustrate our divide, I offer only this – my wife has an allowance too. At the end of two weeks, I’m usually flat broke; at the end of the year, Mrs. Duf usually has a tremendous surplus built up. Her only luxury is coffee. Last year she used her allowance for a California vacation.

**But his clothes last a long time. They really do. You believe me, right?

***They should have you pay first. It kinda kills the vibe a bit.

****The music kind, not the bank kind.