Thursday, June 25, 2009

So Relax...My Ass...

You know when you are in the middle of a situation, and you don't really feel like you are participating until, before you know it, you look up and your girlfriend is staring at you while another man is holding and gently caressing your hand?

What the Hell?

You know that feeling of then being zapped back into reality and quickly pulling your hand away, pretending like it never happened...

ZAP

And then she comes over and asks the obvious question: "Why is that guy holding your hand?"

Um...

You know what I mean, right?

Well. Let me explain.

***

We went back to the fair last night and we were on our way out when an Asian guy who spoke less English than a mute donkey coerced us into entering the "So Relax Massage Booth"

It sounded relaxing after all.

I asked him if my shoulder would be ok...seeing as I just broke it.

Yes he said instantly

I asked him if they would be nice to my collarbone.

Yes, before I was done speaking.

I, of course, checked for complete understanding by asking if he would let me kick him in the balls and call him Francine while I poured chocolate pudding down his pants singing an a capella version of I'm Too Sexy.

Yes, he coolly replied.

Clearly any fan of Right Said Fred is welcome to massage me.

I went into the So Relax booth and was passed off to "Andy." The chances that Andy's name was actually "Andy" is about as likely as me tongue kissing Mylie Cyrus after her fifth Grammy. "Andy" was clearly from China and only knew how to say one thing in English for the first 12 minutes of our relationship:

"What's matter? Too hard?"

But I'll get back to this.

I was placed upon the massage chair, and my mouth and nose were forced through a small breathing passage. "Andy" started off by jabbing his elbows, both of them, into my traps with the gentleness of an Andre The Giant bowel movement fist clench. I then became instantly paralyzed with fear as he coarsely moved to my neck and rubbed my skin with his right thumb like he was trying to remove rust from a 1925 penny that had been soaking in an iron bathtub since WWII. Clearly intuitive by nature, "Andy" took my squirming to mean that perhaps something had gone awry.

"What's matter? Too Hard?"

Yes.

It seems "Andy's" listening ability was far surpassed by his speaking ability. I'm not sure he was acquainted with the word "Yes" during his brief stint in the US, and he moved to my head which, unbeknownst to me, somehow must resemble a bongo drum. He beat my temples and cranium to a pulp, massaging the deep tissue of my brain. Shit. I didn't even know my brain was sore.

This was all a prelude, though, to my favorite part of the massage when he got behind me and straddled me like I was Demi Moore and he was Patrick Swayze from the pottery scene in Ghost. He then, no lie, took his knee, while straddling me, and rubbed it all the way down my IT band, from my hip to my lower leg. While he pushed his entire body weight into me and onto the leather massage chair, I started audibly laughing because this might have very well been the most homoerotic moment of my life...and I was paying $12 for it.

"What's matter? Too hard?"

I now only hoped he meant his massage techniques...and not anything else on him.

He ended the most traumatic 15 minutes of my life by literally closed-fist punching my legs, back, kidneys, back, spleen, and spine to the point where my laughs were rendered staccato:

Ha PUNCH ha...ha PUNCH ha PUNCH ha PUNCH ha...ha PUNCH

I got up from my beating, er, massage and staggered around looking for Tauni. She was at the end of her punching bag session from the looks of it. I was wobbly, and felt like I might fall over.

"Andy" came over, picked up my left hand, and started massaging my fingers.

"What's matter? Too hard?"

I kind of just stared at him. I really felt like I had just been pummelled.

"You strong man. You strong."

He said this as he was stroking (yes, stroking) my fingers. One. By. One.

I looked over to Tauni again...and she had walked over and asked me her very much suitable "Why is that guy holding your hand?"

I looked "Andy" in the eyes and his malformed teeth glistened.

I looked back at Tauni.

We ran-walked away from the So Relax booth as quickly as possible. We held hands, realizing that not only were we not relaxing...but our skin burned and our dignity was shaken.

1 comment:

Tauni said...

My guy almost broke the skin by pushing my bra hook into my spine.

It is a vertabra, not a muscle knot