I got my massage! It was pretty exciting -- only the second time in my life it's ever happened, and the first time was not terribly successful. Right after I'd been let go from my (admittedly crappy) job before Christmas 15 months ago, I decided to treat myself. Sadly, the masseuse who was to treat me was a Stalinist relic, a hardened Back-to-the-USSR type, a human tattoo who had no sympathy for my damaged emotional state.
This was our conversation.
BttU: How are you?
Me: I'm a little bummed. I just lost my job.
BttU: That's no good. What was your major in college?
Me: Film & American History.
BttU: Oh, no, that's no good -- you'll never get a job with that.
She told me her daughter majored in something practical.
[after a pause in which I tried to feel soothed]
BttU: The office where you lost your job. Was there a man there?
Me: Uh ...
BttU: I tell my daughter, when you go into an office, make friends with a man. An older man, to look out for you. Not woman. You can never trust women -- they are always jealous of young pretty girls. You need a man to look out for you.
$50 worth of free advice. Thanks, Eastern Europe.
The only other time I had something like a massage was when I visited the secret lair of the free acupressurist at Swarthmore. They had to keep her existence tightly under wraps, and by "they" of course I mean the Quaker CIA, because had it gotten out that there was a woman on campus who could do such wonders for a tense body, there would have been riots. It would have been like 1789, with Worth, the health building, as the Bastille.
The mystery woman was indeed fantastic. What was really exciting though was that in addition to blissing me out, she told me things about myself that she could tell from my shoulders. Like, I'd had a serious loss recently and the pain was keeping me from being able to fully love, and that I should get a pet to help open my heart again. And she was right! I totally need a pet. And cable TV.
Anyway, this massage -- at Lather Spa -- was wonderful. The young woman who handled me was so skillful I was half in love with her in the during, and bless her heart, she talked very little. She laughed at one point after I started laughing (because she pulled my leg! I dare you not to giggle when your leg is pulled).
And then she asked me to flip over and put my face on the griddle.
"On the griddle?" I asked.
"On the CRADLE," she said, laughing again. "Did you think we were going to bake you?"
Before I get married I'm going to go back and do it again.
Sunday Scaries Coming for This Man in Particular
3 hours ago
Posts
8 comments:
glad to hear this one wasn't a flop. i'll be happy to provide emergency services during the wedding weekend and when we move to brooklyn you'll have another MT at your disposal!
ps. i heart you for quoting Empire Records
Where is this Empire Records quote? I've searched high and low (as in, I read the post again) and I can't find it.
the title of the post is a quote from the fantastic movie Empire Records. if you haven't seen it, nate, you should really do yourself a favor -- though to fully appreciate it i think you might have to be 13.
& JJ, i thought of you when i met the masseuse! she was totally as cool as you're going to be as an MT.
Um... I just saw it the one time, years ago, at the same kind of urging from another woman (who, incidentally, also was an East coast, articulate, Jewish, liberal arts grad student), and to this day my lukewarm reaction to it, should the topic be raised, is bound to disappoint at least two to three women of a certain age and disposition within earshot.
That Ethan Embry kid was good in just about everything... (all two things, I think) especially the superior Can’t Hardly Wait (especially especially in the scenes with my secret wife Before Six Feet Under Lauren Ambrose).
Other than that… I knew a kid just like... Lucas? I think that was his name? And I liked the seemingly improv discussion of Primus bass lines as the credits are rolling.
But the girl that to this day I think of as The Craft girl and to this day reminds me of Shannon Doherty... she annoys me no end. And I find it hard that Liv Tyler’s character would get so overwrought about that way too old Gilderoy Lockehart-ish singer dude. Find me a teenage girl that listens to/lusts after anything remotely like him. Were they going for a Tom Jones sort of deal?
These were my immediate reactions after my one and only viewing, what was it, eight years ago now? And they remain much the same to this very day. And I am uncool and ill of humor. And now I have rained on your Empire Records parade in a too-long post and will forever be banned.
Sadness.
I want to go to that Stalinist masseuse, Ester. Where can I find her? Is she expensive. For that kind of treatment, the more expensive the better. On second thought, screw it. I'll just fly to Berlin on Ryanair -- it's cheaper and serves the same purpose.
I'm too anti-touch for massages.
Barb
Post a Comment