Spa Mafia - A Guest Blog by Ben Helms

Hello, my name is Ben Helms.

For a week now, mom has been riding my ass about blogging. I'll get up for work, and there she will be at the crack of dawn in a bath robe and no makeup in the kitchen. When I sit to put my boots on, she'll throw a remark my way like, "You know, Luke's writing a blog this week..." "Heather Marie (not actually what Heather goes by, but mom thinks if your Facebook page says it then that's your Christian name) might write a blog." Mom talks of Heather constantly. (You've got a stalker, Heather [Marie].)

When subtlety is not an issue, mom says, "You need to write a blog, Ben."

These attacks come at six in the a.m. I'm not open to any suggestions before twelve. But today, I will humor her by putting fingers to keys:

Earlier today, I was patronizing the Wolfchase Galleria. I purchased shoes, a polo, and body spray first, if you really must know what I got there. I was just about ready to vacate the premises when I spotted the Dead Sea Spa kiosk. Normally, I just find a group of people walking by them, blend into that group, and sneak past the kiosk, much like a ninja avoiding a samurai. I do this for two reasons: One, they have exorbitant prices for salt; Two, they get very upset when you do not wish to purchase their overpriced lotions and salts. Very upset.

I have taken to calling them, "The Spa Mafia", since they look like they would very much like to break your legs when you refuse their samples. But I digress. There was no group for me to blend into, and when I walked past the saleslady, she called to me in a (very attractive) middle-eastern, Hebrew-like accent (though she looked Korean), "Would you like to sample our lotion?"

"No thank you ma'am." I said with a friendly smile. (Never smile. Big mistake.)

"Can I ask you a question?" (Damn.)

"Yes ma'am." (Still smiling) (Just keep walking when they ask if they can ask you something.)

"Do you celebrate Valentine's Day?" (How does one celebrate Valentine's Day?)

"Uhhh..."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" (Damn.)

"No ma'am."

"What?"

"I'm single."

"What about your mother?"

"Uh...no." (We're not dating.)

"Are you giving something to her?"

"I haven't gotten her anything." (Damn. Now I've set her up for a pitch. If I hadn't already.)

"Well, let me show you this. Can I see your hands?"

*I raise my hands obediently, silently cursing the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob for putting me in this nightmare situation*

"Do you bite your nails?"

"Yes." (Now I'm embarrassed, exposing my soft underbelly to the Dead Sea Spa Mafia.)

"Well, here's something that will keep you from biting your nails, and make them look beautiful."

*She produces a strange block and begins to rub my right index finger vigorously with it.*

"This will make them shine, and it's all natural."

"Mmmhmm."

*She finishes, and wouldn't you know it, my nail looked fabulous!*

"Wow, that looks good."

"Yes! And it's all natural!" (Really? All natural! Surely not?)

"Cool."

"Here's the kit. Normally, we sell this for sixty dollars, but for you, today only, we will  let it go for forty dollars."

(Here's my chance, I can say no, but before I can say anything....)

"And guess what? If you buy an extra kit for forty dollars more, I will give another one. And guess how much?"

"How much?"

*She hands me a kit, and with a mischievous smile she says:*

"I will give it to you as a present!" (Wow! A present! From a beautiful Jewish [?] Korean [?] woman.)

"I'll take it!" (DAMN!)

I give her my debit card, buy two nail kits, and receive one "free" kit.*

*She gives me the receipt, and tells me her name* (It's not as exotic as I expected.)

"Can I ask you something else?" (Uh oh....)

"Yeah, Sure." (Just say you've got to go!)

"Do you use lotion on your hands?"

"Not very much, no."

"Ah, Let me show you our salt." (Salt)

*She brings her salt out and instructs me to rub it into my hands while she sprays them with water over a bowl.*

"Now be honest, when was the last time you washed your hands?"

"Uh, this morning."

*She beckons me to look at the water in the bowl. It is brown.*

"Yikes."

"This is only forty dollars. Here is the lotion that you can use with it."

*She pulls her lotion out and puts a dab on my hands, instructing me to rub it in.*

"How does that feel?"

"Very nice, actually."

"Just like a baby's bottom, right?!"

*She laughs a lot. In a foreign manner.*

"Yes."

"Now, if you buy this salt and this lotion for eighty dollars, I will give you another lotion and salt as a present!"
(Another present!? Wow, I'm so lucky!")

(Wait! Wake up!)
(What? It's a deal!)
(No, it's not. You just dropped eighty dollars on nail kits, you dummy!)
(You're right! What am I doing?)

"You know what? I'm good."

"What if I sold you the salt for forty and gave you the lotion as a present?"

*She gets that mischievous smile again.*

"Alright, yeah." (Noooooo!)

I am now the owner of three nail kits and a salt/lotion combo.When I got home, I gave Allie and Mom two of them. One I shall keep for myself.

Ladies, I'm single. And I buy expensive things. Act fast, you may get something shiny out of a relationship with me. Or something completely useless. Like the gas mask I purchased yesterday.