Beware: SteFleiss is Lubed Up with Hate

Tuesday 11.6.06
In an effort to save money, I try to subsist off of stale candy and fiber crackers in my desk at work. By evening time, its Luke's last supper so I break down and buy him a six-pack; half Grolsch and half Brooklyn Lager Oktoberfest. We eat a shitty Dumont Burger meal-- it was cold takeout with soggy fries and the meat was quite tasteless for the first time. He then spent $60+ on car service one way to Newark airport, then again BACK, when he realized his flight had taken off the night before, when we were blowing our wads at our buddy Seki-San's overpriced but delish joint.
$10- Corner Deli for 6-pack of beer.
TOTAL: $10

Wednesday 11.7.06
I ate shit on the wet subway platform this rainy morning and my knee is bruised and swollen. I was just happy that the conductor kept the door open for my embarrassed ass to enter, and also relieved that my crappy buttcrack cleavage jeans from China didn't rip. On the spending end, I am still managing to scrape by being a complete mooch. Managed to manipulate my work to buy pizza for lunch. Then went to get the WORST massage ever at Broadway Spa. See my scathing review on Citysearch: http://newyork.citysearch.com/review/37944089/1824913
$120- Broadway Spa (aka Shittiest Shit Hole, NYC) Prepaid during Spa Week. I insisted they refund us $20 of the fee and use it towards the undeserved tip. When I walked in they asked me if I wanted: Shiatsu or Swedish massage, but somehow I ended up with the Polish massage. The Eastern Bloc guy spent the whole time just over-lubing me up and barely applying any pressure. All I felt were his hairy knuckles tickling me through the peat bog of goo on my back. This was worse than a massage from my boyfriend! Even Chef thought to himself, "Gee this is bad, I wonder if this is what it feels like for Steph to get a massage from me." When i flipped over, I noticed mirrors on the ceiling, which would be great if I was having an orgie with hot trannies, but all it did was reflect back my multi-chins trying to stifle back laughter over how horrible everything was. I even blurted out, "Are you sure this is a Swedish massage?" The guy freaked out and began to squirt even more lube juice onto me and squeezed my foot like he was trying to fold a pizza slice in half. I laid there with my eyes open, considering standing up and demanding a manicure instead. You know how when you get your hand massaged and fingers pulled, you hear that thai massage-style snap? Nothing like this here. I felt like he was pulling my fingers to trigger a fart. He also tried to fold my elbows back to stretch, but since I didn't feel anything stretching, I knew he was just trying to twist me backwards to cop a glance at my titties, so I resisted. I want my money back. I asked the front desk if the dudes were even accredited! This place gets rave reviews from gay publications, so it makes me think that guys on meth are too numb to feel what a bad massage is.
$32- Forever 21. 1 pair black slim jeans that are already starting to sag in the knee. By next week they should be stretched out enough to wear as my winter sweatpants indoors. Yes, Chef came with me, but he bought two thermals, so don't hate!
$0- The yummiest homemade pizza by Chef! One was the Chez Panisse special: sauteed onions and mushrooms with fontina, mozzarella, baked with an egg cracked over it, then blanketed in prosciutto. You dip the pizza tips into the yolk once you slice and dice it. PURE HEAVEN.
TOTAL: $152 & over-pizza'd out for the day! Also, aiming to get a refund on my massages.