Monday, January 21, 2008

Oily to Bed...

Will someone please explain to me why I don't get massages at least once a goddamn month? Holy fuckcrap, it's like sex but you don't have to put forth any effort whatsoever, there's no messy cleanup and crying is pretty much kept to a minimum. It does hurt a little bit more... but you get a little heart-shaped chocolate candy when it's all done. I don't think I've ever gotten a little heart-shaped chocolate candy after sex. I think the Old Lady offered me an Altoid, once, but that's about it.

The young massage-lady was very nice. She kicked the shit out of my musculature for a good hour and a half and she definitely zeroed in on the problem areas. She informed me afterwards that my trapezius muscles are completely fucked. Apparently, my left side is way higher than my right, and there are all kinds of knots and shit in there that she wasn't able to knead out. She suggested that the fucked-uppedness of the muscles could well be fucking with my nerves, causing some of my numbness. What the shit -- where were you a month ago, lady?!

When I first got there, I was telling her about the tingling and numbness shit, and then I told her that I was going for an EMG on Wednesday. She said, "Oh no, really?! Ooh, my mom had one of those and she said it was horrible!" I thanked her for that news flash, as I felt another knot or three twist up inside my already clenched trapeziuses. Guess she wanted to really ratchet up my stress level before she started, just to give herself a little challenge.

When it was all over, I just laid there in a heap -- all oily and loose, like a sodden hush-puppy from Long John Silvers. And strangely, there was tartar sauce in my ass crack. Hmm...

So, I've gotta go now -- I've decided to start selling all of the crabbyfamily's possessions on eBay so I can make enough cash to hire a full-time masseuse. I wonder how much I can get for this laptop...

1 comment:

queen lisa of montreal said...

I used to date a Massage Therapist in Training, he was doing the whole school and certification thing. You would think that our relationship would have scored me some primo massages, but he 'didn't like to bring his work home with him'. So, I wasn't as lubed up and relaxed all the time as you might think. At least, not from massages...

BUT, I just had my first 'real' massage. You're right, priorities get shifted. Things like food and shelter start to matter less, and magic hands working out your pretzel glutes start to become wayyyyy more important.