THE SAUCY SIDE OF...KOREAN BATH HOUSES

I went to a Korean bath house today. It was like Burke Williams, only different.

Now, if you are at all modest about nuding up around other women, or a germ freak who carries Purell on your keychain, you better stick to subpar aromatherapy and apple slices in plastic cups. But, if you want the best two hours of your life for $70, go to a Korean bath house and get yourself a proper beat down.

The first thing you need to know is that there aren't going to be a whole lot of non-Korean women in da house. They don't mind us white folk coming into their glorious lair of exfoliation and oil massage...as long as you nude up. Trust me, you don't want to be the only chick cruising around that place in bikini bottoms. There was a girl like that when I was there, and she was completely barred from going in any of the hot tubs, etc. It isn't a sexual thing, but more a sanitary thing. They feel that if you are wearing any clothing, you could bring unwanted bacteria into the environment.

Yes, I do realize that we are talking about a place where a plentitude of exposed vaginas are stewing in the same body of water, and being plopped on the same surfaces. Personally, I don't think a little Lycra is going to ravage any ecosystem they've got going on in there, but those are the rules, so shut your lips and play by them.

If for some reason your visit is impromptu and you don't have a chance to bust out a razor and, shall we say, get your show tight...do not worry your pretty little non-Korean head about it. These ladies don't give a shit, and for the most part look like they have little Kim Jong-ils living in-between their legs.

The place has all the things you would find in a regular spa; hot tubs in various temperatures, steam room and dry sauna. But, I knew things were going to be a bit different when I noticed the sign outside the steam room that read, "No egg or yogurt allowed." What the hell? Is that for
snacking purposes? Just in case you get a hankering for a hard boiled or Yoplait while sitting in 120 degree wet steam?

Once you have done a little non-dairy steam, sauna and hot tub, you are called back by a woman who is wearing a black lace bra and granny panties to a separate room that houses a bevy of vinyl massage tables. I understand that this last sentence alone could have most of you running back to the cucumber water and terry cloth robes, but stay with me! I don't know why the women who work there wear lace bras and panties. I just don't know. I know they
were wearing more clothes than I was, and had the hands of an Asian angel, so I really didn't care.

After you lay your naked-ass self on the wet vinyl slab, I suggest you just close your eyes and go with it. It starts with the most thorough exfoliation of your entire life. Arms and legs are being raised and bent in various positions. Places you didn't even know existed are being exfoliated. I recall many things being listed on the services they provide. I don't remember outer-labial scrubbing being one of them.

Whatever.

Now that five pounds of epidermis has been loofahed off of you, you are treated to a hot oil body rub down. And when I say body, I mean entire body...won't be needing to do that breast self-exam for a few months, thank you very much.

For sixty amazing minutes you are kneaded, stretched and walked on beyond the point of extreme relaxation. In fact, this is one of the only times a towel comes in to play during the entire experience. Not for the sake of modesty, but due to the noodle-like state of your body, coupled with the oil and vinyl surface, something dry is needed underneath you to keep yourself from slip sliding off the table.

One of my favorite parts of the massage is when they do this flat-handed, cupping-like treatment on your back. Not really a beat down, but more of a smack down. As you lie there with your eyes closed, you hear nearby tables also starting this smack down portion. One by one, the
sound of open-faced, Asian angel hands hitting lubed-up backs intensifies. Unknowingly, they start to beat in rhythmic unison. It reminded me of dining at Benihana. Just replace the white chef hats with black skivvies, and by God don't crack an egg over anything. Remember, no egg or yogurt allowed!

Just when you think it can't get any better, an intense scalp shampoo and head massage, coconut milk douse and cucumber facial follow. I must admit that I was concerned, yet intrigued, when I noticed the bowl of enormous cucumbers on ice below my table. I assumed that they were for some sort of treatment I was not offered, and would have to pay a lot extra for. But alas, the chilly veggie was shaved down into a refreshing facial mask. All part of the $70 package.

The perfect happy ending to my Korean bath house experience.

THE SAUCY SIDE OF...DISNEYLAND

Like many other So Cal families, my daughter and I have yearly passes to Disneyland. Some people might think this is excessive, but at $169, if you go twice, the thing pays for itself. But oh, how I wish we have only gone twice. If you do the math on how many times we have gone to the “Happiest Place on Earth”, it works out to about $.42 per visit.

You can always tell the season pass holders apart from the regular tourists; we park at Downtown Disney, get our parking validated at ESPN Zone so it is free, ride the Monorail in, flip open our strollers, strap on our backpacks full of snacks and juice boxes, and hit the park with complete and utter efficiency.

My daughter and I usually go by ourselves, but sometimes we go with my brother, who has twin boys around the same age. The kids look very similar, and people often mistake them for triplets, and for my brother and me as husband and wife. On such visits, I consider it the “Creepiest Place on Earth”.

Frequenting the park has brought immense joy to my daughter, and way too much waiting-in-line time for me to people watch and let my saucy mind wander.

The people watching is hands down, the best I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

I think my favorite is the couples that decide to spend their honeymoon at the “Most Unromantic Place on Earth”, strolling hand in hand, in their Goofy groom hat and Minnie Mouse veiled ears. Any man forced to wear such nonsense has grounds for divorce, in my humble opinion. The only reason I can see anyone wanting to honeymoon there is if the Disneyland Hotel offers some kinky, role playing packages:

The S&M Package – Complete with Jasmine and Jafar costumes, and all the shackles and chains you can handle.

The Dead Fish Package – Comes with ornate bed, Sleeping Beauty and Prince Phillip costumes, and Roofies galore.

The Gang Bang Package - Snow White / Prince Charming garb…and a special visit by all Seven Dwarfs. No eating the apple, just put it in your mouth…and bite down hard.

Coming in close second in the people watching arena are the droves of incredibly obese people that seem to flock the park on any given day. I know the lines can be long, and fear it may be incentive enough for some to shove their mouths full of oversized corn dogs to the point of not being able to walk, and as a result, be justified in renting a motorized cart and getting to wait in the “Fat Pass Line”.

Disneyland isn’t one to offend, so they have PC signs such as the one on Space Mountain that says, “the seating and restraints on this attraction may prohibit guests of certain body shapes or sizes from riding.” Certain body shapes? What shapes would those be? Triangle, rectangle, perhaps octagon?

I’ll tell you what, if you are squished in a fat ass-mobile, you ain’t getting on Space Mountain. And if you want your 10 year old in that stroller, who’s double fisting a chimichanga and 42 oz, Buzz Lightyear Souvenir soda, to have a chance in hell a few years from now, tell him there will be no Frisbee-sized lollipop for dessert, and he is walking back to the car.

No fucking Monorail for him.

As I stand waiting in line with all the normal-sized people, I have, on occasion, wondered if given the chance, where I would want to make whoopee within the Magic Kingdom. I have friends who have hit it on the now defunct People Mover and Sky Buckets, and a few who have gotten a handie in the caves on Tom Sawyer Island, but my top choices would be:

- In the pig troff on Pirates of the Caribbean
- On top of the birthday party table in The Haunted Mansion
- On Splash Mountain, tied up like Brer Rabbit…safe word is Zippity Doo Dah
- Soaring Over California, or in this case, Scoring Over California
- In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room, hanging from the Bird Mobile, directly above the fountain when it’s at full blast.

Speaking of the Tiki Room, don’t you think Dole is missing out on a unique marketing opportunity by not having the birds plop out pineapple whip into the mouths of people sitting directly below?

Don’t get me wrong, visits have become much more enjoyable as my daughter has gotten older and now prefers all the roller coaster attractions. But the days of listening to the same, lame jokes on the Jungle Cruise are not soon forgotten.

Back side of water? My ass. I’ll show you the back side of my hand if you don’t get some new material, and quick.

Yeah, I’m thinking I may need to try a Lego land pass for next year.

SAUCY STATEMENT

I don't think that seedless watermelon is really all that seedless. Just because they are soft and white, doesn’t make them not seeds.

HEY IT'S FRANKLIN, COMING OVER TO PLAY

The E! True Bunnywood Story - Max & Ruby

Max & Ruby is a reality show on Noggin that chronicles the lives of two young, abandoned bunnies living alone in a house. On the surface, these siblings, Max (3) and Ruby (7), seem to be getting by just fine with only the occasional visit from Grandma, but E! TBS has uncovered the real story behind this “fluff” piece.

Max & Ruby’s parents tried to keep it together for their little bunnies, but eventually their acid dropping ways came back to haunt them. They decided that they couldn’t deal with raising children and took to a life on the road, following various Grateful Dead cover bands. There are two blatant signs of their illicit drug use in the show; one being the fact that Max is three and can only speak in two-word phrases, which is an obvious result of a PCP pregnancy, the other sign being the extremely trippy wallpaper choices throughout the house. You know you are on some good shit when your pattern of choice has big green sombreros all over it.

Of course, a life of such abandonment took its toll on the kids and those surrounding them. In her early teens, Ruby became pregnant with Roger Piazza’s baby. There were talks of writing the pregnancy in to the story line, but in the end, the producers decided to hide it by making Ruby wear an awful apron dress instead. The young couple tried to make it work for a while, but after a few months of Roger only saying “huh?”, Ruby decided it just wasn’t going to work out, and ultimately gave the baby up for adoption.

Mr. and Mrs. Huffington had struggled with infertility for years (very rare among rabbits, you know) and were happy to take the baby in. Although they agreed to an open adoption and let Ruby babysit now and again, they forced her to call the little bunny only by “Baby Huffington”, so she would never forget that it no longer belonged to her.

Scandal also plagued cast members Bunny Scout Leader and Louise. In a fit of rage over not receiving her Bird Watching Merit Badge, Louise outed Bunny Scout Leader for being a lesbian, which is strictly prohibited in the archaic organization. Her title was revoked, and in retaliation she is suing the Bunny Scouts of America for discrimination. The case is awaiting trial in the Superior Bunny Court.

The only happy story to report from the cast is that of Grandma. She finally decided to take some time for herself and is enjoying an active online dating life. And with the recent advancements in bunny Viagra, she no longer shares the company of “Can’t Sit Up Slugs”, but rather, is taking pleasure in “Red Hot Marshmallow Squirters.”

You go, Grandma.

SAUCY STATEMENT

LIFE IS LIKE A BOX OF TAMPONS
SOME DAYS ARE SUPER
AND SOME ARE JUST REGULAR

SAUCY STATEMENT

I think it is perfectly natural to Twitter MySpace, but I'm not a big fan of YouTubing all over my facebook. I might be up for a Friendster with benefits though.

DEAR MICHAEL

We grew up wanting to ROCK WITH YOU. You were such a THRILLER, and personally I didn’t care if BILLY JEAN was not your lover. As long as you didn’t BEAT IT to anyone under age and argue that it was HUMAN NATURE, I can say that ANOTHER PART OF ME - JUST CAN’T STOP LOVING YOU. Even though you were still a P.Y.T., obviously the MAN IN THE MIRROR wasn’t what you wanted him to be. Many thought you were OFF THE WALL, or a SMOOTH CRIMINAL, but let’s all COME TOGETHER and agree that YOU ARE NOT ALONE in thinking that you have GONE TOO SOON.

SAUCY STATEMENT

I watched the Real Housewives of NJ finale last night and was surprised to see Teresa engage in such “lowbrow” conversation.

RANDOM SAUCE

I've always wondered why knäckebröd came with a hole in the middle:

Swedens Got Talent Knäckebrödsdansen crisp bread dance 2009

SAUCY STATEMENT

Just so we are clear:

If you push your dog around in a stroller, I am going to make fun of you.

SAUCY STATEMENT

I wonder if anyone has ever taken a permanent marker to Brody Jenner's girlfriend's tattoo, and written the word "DIS' in front of it...after she had passed out...

SAUCY THINGS I SEE

I think I'll have Maddie wear her "crown" and bring her Dora "toy" to this movie:

SAUCY STATEMENT

I just love it when I put crisp, white sheets on the bed, only to have my cat and his dirty backside hop up and give them his anus stamp of approval. Winston – you were given the gift of being able to lick your own self, please start embracing it.

SAUCY THINGS I SEE

What exactly is involved in this after party?

(BTW - this "hair product" was being sold at First Cuts for Kids)

THE SAUCY SIDE OF...CAILLOU

As parents, there are some kid's shows that we find amusing, some that we tolerate, and others that make us want to take a gun to the roof of our mouths and pull the trigger without hesitation. Caillou is one of these shows.

If you have never had the pleasure, Caillou is about the whiniest little four-year-old bitch you can ever imagine. Although he resembles a retarded Charlie Brown with that big melon of his, I don't think there is anything mentally wrong with him. I can't explain why at four years of age he doesn't have a single strand of hair...maybe he has whatever Little Bill has?

If Caillou really wants something to whine about, I say Grandpa should put some rat poison in his grandson's beloved cat, Gilbert's food bowl.

Another thing that puzzled me for a long time was why Caillou's parents were always in frumpy house clothes. But then I was informed that the show is Canadian, which of course explained everything.




The show has a catchy theme song of:

I'm just a kid who's four
Each day I grow some more
I like exploring
I'm Caillou

But I think the following is more appropriate:

I'm just a kid who's four
Each day I whine some more
I'm so annoying
I'm Caillou

Sing it with me...

SAUCY STATEMENT

There are rumors of a Mel Gibson love child with his mistress. Because as a good Catholic...he isn't allowed to use protection.

THE ABC's OF ME

A - Age: 36

B - Bed size: Super expensive king pillow top that was too soft and ended up looking like something Nell Carter slept on. Now it is flipped over with a $50 Costco mattress pad on top of it...Sit N Sleep can kiss my ass.

C - Chore you hate: Anything involving being on my knees.

D - Dog's name(s): Darla the English bulldog - who spends her days sleeping in the dog bed she urinates on, hawking loogies all over my perfectly Restoration Hardware-painted walls, and humping an antique Oriental rug, any toddler over for a playdate, or my leg...whichever looks sexiest that given day.

E - Essential start your day item: Getting out of my horribly firm and uncomfortable bed.

F - Favorite color: Gamboge

G - Gold or Silver: Platinum

H - Height: 6'5", 6'9" with the afro.

I - Instruments you play: Middle School Saxophone

J - Job title: Hausfrau

K - Kid(s): Madeleine, turning 4 in June.

L - Living arrangements: House with terrible mattress, loogie-stained walls and well-loved rugs.

M - Mom's name: Gunnel (you think my childhood was rough?)

N - Nicknames: Have at it.

O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: With or without a straight jacket?

P - Pet Peeve: People who write notes on facebook.

Q - Quote from a Movie: I don't really know any movie quotes.

R - Right or left handed: Right, unless it gets tired...and then I'll switch to the left.

S - Siblings: Lisa & Jesper

T - Time you wake up: when my daughter does

U- Underwear: Rarely - but when I do it's usually something unusual.

V - Vegetable you dislike: Poke Salad

W - Ways you run late: I am never late.

X - X-rays you've had: Only thyroid - never broken a bone.

Y - Yummy food you make: Next question

Z - Zoo favorite: When monkeys throw poop at people or when giraffes pee. I don't know if it's because their pee has to fall so far to hit the ground, but it sure seems like those animals take big pees.

SAUCY STATEMENT

Paula Abdul just admitted to being addicted to pain killers! First Clay Aiken says he is gay, and now this? I don't think I can handle much more shocking news in my life.

SAUCY STATEMENT

I would like to know

how blind people pick up their guide dog's dumps.

SAUCY STATEMENT

Susan Boyle was just offered $500,000 to pose nude for Playboy, but after waxing estimates came back on how much it would cost to get her camera ready...the offer was lowered to $350,000.

THE SAUCY SIDE OF...GROCERY STORES

I used to love going to the grocery store; casually strolling the aisles, comparing one label to another, picking out the best produce and freshest meat. But then Dollop came along, and now even the mere thought of it gets my heart racing.

Things are getting better with age, but the days of lugging around the shopping cart cover that looks like a Bill Cosby sweater, or trying to successfully navigate a racing car / cart monstrosity, so as not to take down the old hag who is hanging out in the middle of the aisle, searching for her Depends coupon, are still fresh in my memory.

We have many stores to choose from here in California, but the ones I visit most are Stater Bros., Albertsons and Ralphs. I know there isn't much logic in burning gas to drive across town to the store that has the $2.99 organic strawberries or better Squaw bread, but you know you are probably guilty of it as well, so you can kiss my gas guzzling ass.

Albertsons is very clean and has great produce, but it has apparently been bought out by FAO Schwartz, because there are five foot teddy bears starring down at you in the frozen pea aisle. This is either a savvy new way of hiding security cameras, or they just want to make sure you don't get out of the place for under three bills. I swear, the last time I went in for a gallon of milk, I left with a Dora Mylar balloon, two gigantic bouncy balls and a live lobster.

The exact opposite of FAO Albertsons is Stater Bros. This place is so caught in a time warp that I'm pretty sure "Sam the Butcher" from "the Brady Bunch" works the meat counter. But oh, what a meat counter it is...which is why I ever bother going there. The time warp prices bring out the old people in mass, and I really think they should post a schedule of when the senior buses drop off. That, or at least have a “70 or younger” checkout lane. You have never seen more coupons cut or checks written in your life.

The middle of the road market is Ralphs, which I am pretty OK with for the most part...except for one major thing. Now, I am all for equal opportunity employment, but when my eggs get bagged underneath a gallon of Clorox, I am going to get pissed off. Same goes for if you try and have a conversation with me, or my three year old daughter, about how you like to clean your fish tank....every damn time we have the pleasure of getting in your line. So, throw on a little deodorant before work, try and smile a little less creepy, concentrate on what you are bagging, and we'll all get along just fine.