So I spent two hours working on editing the Lady Gaga parody, and then hopped in my car in my Marc Jacobs glitter shoes, and some tight pants. I stopped at the bank on the way to the audition, and while I was talking to the teller, my back started to hurt. It started to hurt like that awful little pull you feel right before you get a muscle spasm, except it was my entire lower back. After the hell week I had two months, ago, I'm determined to never experience my back going out again. I hurried through my transaction, and raced down the block to the only place I knew could help me. Le Pain Quotidien.
I walked in, breezed past the pain a l'ancienne, past the pain au chocolate, and barely glanced at the madelaines. I went straight to the bathroom, locked the door, dropped my bag, and laid down on the floor. Now those of you who know me, know that I have serious issues with germs. I wash my hands ALL the time. I don't allow shoes in the house. I secretly hate when people want to shake hands with me, and try not to wipe my hand on my pants while they are still looking. I try not to touch doorknobs and when say all these things out loud, I realize I have a problem. So when I tell you I laid on a public bathroom floor, even if it was in a fancy french bakery, I can assure you I was scared. Once I was down there, the smell of pee was distinctive, and I kept thinking about how I should probably cut off all my hair because no amount of shampoo was going clean me now.
I did the whole routine of stretches that my physical therapist had taught me. I sent Nipper a text. I got up washed my hands, put a few paper towels down on the floor, did a few more stretches, someone jiggled the doorknob and so I finished up my stretch, washed my hands again, and left. I went to the counter, bought a chocolate croissant and and orange juice, and popped a 600mg ibuprofen that I found in the bottom of my wallet (Hallelujah).
I walked with mincey little steps back to my car, drove to Hollywood boulevard, took of my Toms, put on my blue glitter heels, did my 2 minute audition (4 lines, 3 producers, 1 writer, 1 casting director, 10 other hooker/business ladies in waiting) got back in my car and drove straight to the Chinese chair massage place. I can't say anything more about that place because I've been sworn to secrecy. But let's just say there is a place in LA, where you can get a full body massage for $25. And it's not skeevy, or dirty, or weird at all. Years ago, I went to a cheap massage place someone recommended where it was clear that everyone who worked there was sad, sad, sad. After my massage at that sad, sad, place, I got in my car and sobbed. My Chinese chair massage place isn't like that at all. But I can't tell you anything else about it. Except maybe that I almost always fall asleep when they rub my feet. I Love you Chinese chair massage!
SO long story short, my back is fine. I worked it out. But I think I'm going to have to do all the rest of my editing sitting on the exercise ball we bought for when I was pregnant. That aeron chair says it's all ergonomic and stuff, but clearly it lies. It's pretty, but no good for you at all. Kind of like me in my 20's.
This is not me (duh) I borrowed this pic of someone's flickr page. Also I want a pink excercise ball. Someone please send me one.
So it's just me and ball from here on out. I never used it when I had Jack. Like I was going to be rolling around in the hospital on a big green ball. Nope, not me. When I was in labor at home I was crawling around on the floor saying "Am I in labor?" and "Huh, do you think this is labor?" It really hurt, but I thought maybe it was a stomach ache or something. By the time we got to the hospital I was all "drugs please". Thanks. Then I couldn't feel my legs, and for like 5 minutes straight, I made Nipper say "YOUR LEGS ARE FINE" like three inches from my face, over and over. Then I pushed twice (no joke) and Jack was born. I probably cursed myself to 732 hours in labor with our next kid by telling that story but it's true.
Wait, what was I talking about?