There and Back Again: The Vanilla Ice Experience

When I heard Vanilla Ice had booked a show in Shawnee, Okla. my heart jumped like a candle.

Apparently Everyone else’s did too, as the booking started gracing headlines on Oklahoma news sites and my Facebook feed within hours. Leave it to Oklahoma to give the funky white boy the welcome he deserved.
Like seriously why was Oklahoma the first stop on the tour? Whatever the reason, I was thrilled, but I really didn’t think id be going.

Two weeks later, my bearded companion sends a text, “Hey you want to go see Vanilla Ice in March?”
“Is that a real question?”

I thought surely he knew me better than THAT.

But he couldn’t possibly know my love for that patriotic parachute pants wearing punk was much deeper than ninja turtle macaroni n cheese commercials.

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I was pretty much willing to pay an inappropriate amount of money to see the Justin Bieber of the ’90s, so I nearly had a roni when I found out floor tickets were only $25.
“Order it now,” I said.

After the initial excitement, I started wondering, “What the hell is this show lineup going to look like?”
Honestly, I’d probably be okay with just Hearing “Ice, Ice Baby” on a loop with a few “Ninja Rap” intermissions… What else is there?

I went to the iTunes Store to download the 1990 masterpiece, To the Extreme, and another pleasant surprise– It was only $5.99.

From the moment I heard, “Yo Vanilla, kick it one time booooyeee!” I was transported back to elementary school days when I’d play the CD on the boom box in my room. The only thing more embarrassing than how many lyrics I remembered (lyrics, in retrospect, no child should be listening to) was how I inadvertently started examining the chiseled jawline and shaved brows in photos on the album cover just I had as a little girl. I even used to seek out the VHS copy of “Cool as Ice” during family trips to the video store just so I could see my man (and some irrelevant chick) on the box. Ya know, the dude was cute.

Pretty sure those little square images are what inspired me to line my son’s hair when I buzz it down to a Mohawk.

The nostalgia hit my brain like a poisonous mushroom. I was hooked.
I had a tiny heart attack when my man went to jail for burglary (he’s innocent BTW), not because of the scandal. I’d already bought a ticket and needed to see this show. I tweeted Mr. Ice and asked if he’d still be playing in light I his recent woes. He favorited the tweet, and the show was still on.

Now the day is here, and I’m ready for the chumps on the wall. I have no idea what to expect (please just none of the dumb, metal rap from the dreadful dread lock days) but anything less than the best will be a damn felony… Just not burglary. Like I said, he’s innocent.

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An Hour as a Warrior

A tandem massage by definition is far from naughty, even though its linguistic similarity to “tantric massage” has a tendency to raise eyebrows, but my experience this past month was absolutely transcendent.
Like, almost but not quite better than sex.
I was getting a massage a few weeks ago (be jealous) at Emerald Lane Massage Studio, aka “Heaven on earth,” and the therapists mentioned they were doing a special on tandem massages the following Saturday.
The couples massage team took a few minutes showcasing their delightful skills on myself and my partner in crime, explaining that a tandem massage is essentially two masseuses working one client at the same time.
Before I could get the words out of my mouth, my fellow massagee said, “Can you have three at the same time?”
This is one of many reasons why we get along so well. Within 60 minutes, we had signed up for triple tandem massages that weekend for an absurdly low price.
I showed up at the spa, located at 1817 W. Gore, just after lunch ready for any piece of action Nate and Holly were ready to throw my way. If it was anything like the couples massage I’d experienced that week, I would wind up trying to adopt two grown adults by the end of the day.
They told me I was going to be their first ever triple tandem massage, or “TT” as I lovingly called it, and I honestly felt a bit prideful. I was their first. And boy they did leave me quivering.
As soon as the lights dimmed and the soothing music started, I reverted back to an ancient state of relaxation, six hands gliding and gripping every sore strand in my back and legs.
I seriously felt like a celebrated gladiator being pampered by wenches — or an angel, devil and a transformer. Same thing. Bottom line is this: Hands. Everywhere. Relaxation.
At one point, I seriously floated over my own body hovering on the massage table listening to the blood flow through the vessels. I had died and entered Valhalla. AKA the “TT.”
When we were finished, I could barely get my clothes back on (wouldn’t it be nice of every first time was this good?). I felt like a manta ray gliding down the hallway back to the lobby, where I collapsed into a flesh puddle.

mack

Just like Alex Mack, girl.

I immediately knew I wanted to blog about it.
Seriously, if you haven’t ever had a massage, or a tandem massage, I recommend calling Emerald Lane Spa right now. Hell, if you HAVE, call them (699-8777) and do it again. Your body will love you for it, and you might even feel like a gladiator. These people offer an experience like no other, and they do so at seriously discounted rates for military, police, firefighters, EMTs and teachers, ya know, all those important folks. Check them out now. https://www.facebook.com/emeraldlanemassagestudio