[Sweetieface]

I think Van has it too. The following story is just a funny one to share, don't have to enter it into any contest.

Ok, so I work in a schwanky place in Boston, the head honcho's are VERY cool. One of our benefits is a weekly massage.
Every week, one of three women come in and set up a massage chair, and all employees have the option of a 20 minute massage.

WELL. There is one woman in particular who just does an awesome job, and I was in need of a treat that week. I'd never gotten a massage before, so thought, what the heck, its 60.00, what better to spend it on than an hour long massage??

This is the email story I sent to my friends:


After work, I circle Boston a few times searching for the place. After finally finding the place in Cambridge, I drive right by the parking lot and have to take my life in my hands turning
around to circle back.


Inside, I wait the 15 minutes I (I got there early,) and then an
additional fifteen minutes for the masseusse to eat dinner.


Finally I am in the room. I've been given time to get as
undressed as I want, and under the sheet. Just as I'm half dressed, a knock comes at the door.
"Just a minute" I say, which through the oak door is loosely translated to: "Come right in immediately," and in comes
the masseuse as I stand there half dressed.

This should be my first indication that things might not go so well.

Finally undressed, I realize that the room is somewhere around 15 degrees.....celcius. I ran for the cover of the thin white sheet just to stay warm.

When I am under the sheet and she comes back, she asks: is there anything you don't want me to work on, ticklish spots, etc. I say: well, I sprained my ankle last week (show the ace bandage here) and tell her how much it still hurts, but is getting better.

This apparently would also have been my time to ask her kindly NOT to touch my buttocks.
I did not realize she would be touching my buttocks.
It was quite a surprise when she touched my buttocks.

I was sure as she worked her way down my back that it would stop at my belt level. When it proceeded well past my belt level, I was sure there MUST be muscles in my behind that she psychically knew were tense that she had to work on. She is a professional after all, I should trust her.

Let me tell you, at this point, ALL the muscles in my behind were tense!

YOU DON'T MIND DO YOU?? THAT'S MY BUM!!!!

Not only am I a good 10lbs overweight and have not hit the gym in months....but they are my buttocks!!!! Good LORD! She could at least buy me dinner first!!!

I haven't seen that much action or had that much groping since my boyfriend was alive, and back then it was an entirely different ball game, let me tell you.

I began to pray at this point for a natural disaster to knock out the stereo and lighting, so I could go home.

Maybe someone could knock on the door with an emergency to get me out of this torture.

Perhaps a wild and rabid dog could break down the door and eat me alive. Anything.

Leave the back of my legs alone. Leave those cheeks alone! At this point she's just pushing the side of each hip and I'm rocking on my belly back and forth, getting sea sick, wondering WHAT on God's green earth ever possessed me to get a massage.

Back to my injured ankle saga.

Now, while there is NO oak door to slaughter these words into another poor translation, you might also be wondering how the words: "It still hurts" somehow translated into "No injuries, feel free to toss me around like a rag doll."

While lying on my back, she took the liberty to stretch me out Bobby Brady style by PULLING on the feet, one at a time, TWICE EACH, rotating the foot and in the process.....tearing all healed ligaments back away from the bone.

I felt GREAT! One would think the wincing and gasping would have made her stop after the first round. Boy was I wrong.

So now I've felt cold, violated, and a new form of ankle agony, all at the tune of $65.

I think of the amount of books I could have bought at Barnes and Noble for $65.00.

I think of the fishing equiptment I could have had for $65.00.

Dinner? I could have had an OUTSTANDING dinner....for $65.00.


But instead I am lying in close to my birthday suit being probed at like an alien abduction, I've re-injured my swollen ankle, and felt exactly like a piece of prime rib being prepared for dinner.

sigh. Next time I have a big idea to "treat myself," please forward
this email back to me.



Sincerely,

Peg Leg Penny