Tag Archives: Massage

Oh Groupon..

Down a dark deserted hallway

There’s a small windowless room

Where Melanie the Masseuse lies encased in her tomb

Century’s passed since she last uttered a word

Era’s gone by and she has not stirred

She lies there dreaming of a life that once was

Memories are sharp

Digging around with their claws

Being cryogenically frozen in space and time

Her lips and skin blue

Hair matted down like glue

She lays there awake

Her mind never off

She see’s only the darkness behind

an old linen cloth 

The hallway outside brightens and buzzes

The flourescent lights turning on

Her ears perk up

She hushes

“What’s going on?  What’s happening out there?”

Rolling down her cheek is a lonesome frightful tear.

Someone rambles in

her chambers where she lies within

“Hello?  Is someone there?”

Her chin

Quiverin’

“It’s just me your next client.  Do not be alarmed, I’m compliant.

Your clients await you, they’re filing in by the masses.

So get up my dear friend, 

Get up and massage 400 asses.”

I’m waiting for my next client.  It’s 11:09.  She’s late.  Damn.  I hate calling people.  I’ll wait until 11:15, than I’ll call her.

I wrote that ode in the 20 minutes I’ve been sitting here waiting.

Tick tock

Tick tock

Sonuva…

It’s a dark rainy day here on October 12th

It’s payday from Groupon

Now aint that just swell – th

I like getting money instead of waiting in the dark

Being frozen in time, eating up minutes like a shark

Ahhh What am I saying?

Shit where is this lady.

It’s not a lady, it’s a man and I got his voice mail.  This is not good.  I need to be fully booked everyday 6 days a week cause you know why?  You want to know why?  Because I’m pretty much screwed in the ass otherwise.

I’m not just massaging 400 asses – it’s a lot more than that.  A shit ton more.

Groupon wanted to sell a package deal – buy 3 massages for $100.  I get $17.50 a massage plus tip, so I said sure sounds great.

Besides, most people will opt for the one hour.  Buying 3 sessions to get a rub down by someone you don’t know is highly unlikely.  Well, Groupon took it upon themselves to “sell out” of the 60 and 90 minute massage options.  How can you sell out of massages?

I found this out from two of my clients.

“Really?  I had no idea they did that.  How would I sell out of massages?”

So last night I looked online and saw how many of the package deals I sold.  I want to cry.  I want to cry, weep, wither and die.  I want to stick Groupon with a sharp pointy stick in their eye.

I sold 200 of the buy 3 deal.  200!  200 X 3 = well, you do the math.  I have to give 800 massages within the next 5 months.  Break that down day by day that’s 5 clients a day if I work 7 days a week.  5 clients a day, and then I’m getting repeat full priced clients on top of that.

I’m fuuuuuuucked.  Fucked.  Hence the poem.  I am so freaking out right now.  I’m calling Groupon, screw it.  I’m calling them right now.

Damn I’m on hold.  It’s 11:39.  Let’s see how long it takes for them to pick up.

I feel like I’m going to shit my pants.

I desperately need a desk in here.  My back doesn’t hurt after a day a massaging, it only hurts when I type in my blog.  I’m hunched over with the Mac in my lap.  Ouch.  A tv tray is no desk.  It’s not tall enough.

11:42

What song is this?  Is it supposed to keep me calm?  It’s not working.

11:48.  I just got off the phone with them.   The private sale in now turned off – thank the lord Jesus.  I only had 24 more to sell before reaching 400, but 24 x 3 = Well, you do the math.  I’m bad at it.

I’ll be okay.  Everything will be okay.  I’m making money, this is a good thing.  It’s what I wanted.  And selling on Groupon requires a huge price in advertising, so I’ll be able to deduct my losses as a business expense – I won’t have to pay much at all for taxes next year.

Instead of getting an accountant to deal with everything, I’m learning how to do it all myself.  I studied the different options, weighed the pro’s and con’s and opted for a sole proprietorship.  It’s versatile and also allows for health insurance deductions.   I won’t have to pay a dime in health insurance.  The massage association offers a plan to insured practitioners, so that’s on my to-do list.

Think about it, why pay an accountant when I can take that money and donate it to charity instead and in the process teach myself the in’s and out’s of the tax world.

I bought Turbo Tax software for sole proprietorship from Amazon for $8.  Laziness is the bane of all human existence.  I’m trying to do the opposite.

Damn I need a desk.  Shit yo.

I’m going to read a little and lay on my back on my Spoonk mat.

spoonk mat

Click on the image if you want one.

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Odes, rant

Another day another back rub

My last client was a little strange.  She’s an older woman, and one of those people who like a painfully deep massage.  She gave me a hug when it was over and didn’t want to let go.  She kept rubbing my back.  Not patting, but rubbing.  My brow furrowed and my eyes wondered around the room asking the question, “is this weird?”

She asked me a few questions and stared at me.

Her – “Who takes care of you?”

Me – “Um….”

I was about to say my parents take care of me, but that didn’t seem like the right response.  I spot my back buddy (a device used to massage my own back) and snatched it up.

Me – “My back buddy.  It works really well.  I don’t have enough time to get massages these days.”

She stared at me smiling.

I started using my back buddy.

Me – “….”

More staring.

Me – “It really works.”

Me – “I’m eating sushi for lunch.  I try to take care of myself.”

She rummaged around in her purse.

Me thinking “Oh good please pull out tip money and not a business card.”

She handed me a business card.

Her – “You should come see me.  I’m right down the street in Middletown.  I’ll give you a reflexology session on the house.”

My ears perk up whenever I hear the words “on the house.”

Me – “Oh thank you so much.  I’ll definitely come see you.  Thanks.”

She hugged me again.

Her – “That was wonderful what you did.”

She was referring to the massage.

When I give a massage, I like to make contact with the persons hands to form a connection.  And it feels really nice and comforting while I’m massaging their inner forearm.  It’s the only part of the massage where an intimate professional bond can be formed.  25% of men (possibly more), like to grasp my hand and hold it.  Sometimes caressing it, which sketches me out, but it’s usually innocent.  With women it’s more like 5% (if that).  She was a hand holder.

I never had reflexology before, and she didn’t leave me a tip so I feel like I should go do it.  Is this a bad idea?  I don’t know.  It was weird, you’re just going to have to trust me on that.

After the massage, I went into the break room for a little sushi lunch.  I ate a couple pieces and looked at the time.  12:30.  I’ll be here until 8:30 tonight.  I left the remainder of my sushi to save it for later.  I have to make it stretch.  My next client doesn’t get here until 2:30, so here I am blogging.  It’s 1:02 now.

I guess I should read a little.

After ordering business cards from Vista Print, they show you a bunch of little add-on’s you can choose from for cheap.  One of these add-on’s were stickers.  So I bought a bunch of stickers for my clients to stick on after getting a massage.

I found it ingenious.  I only offer them to tippers.

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Strange & Unusual

148 Massages

Groupon MyCityDeal

Groupon MyCityDeal (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today was the launch of my groupon ad and all I can tell you is HOLE-LEE-SHIT.  Holy shit.  I’m selling a total of 400 and today alone, I sold 148.

I’m a late sleeper.  I play my video game late into night after coming home from closing the bar – bed time for me is 3am.  Now I have cats calling me as early as 8.  8am!  Does such an hour exist?  My  phone did not stop ringing.  I heard my phone going off, text messages, voice mails…every five minutes my phone made some kind of squeak, burp or hiccup.

I rubbed my eyes and grumbled out of bed.

“Okay I’m up I’m up, what time zone are you people living in?”

Just to get a feel for how often my phone rang, I couldn’t leave it alone to visit the bathroom for my morning rise and shine.  It literally rang every three to five minutes.

Even with all my morning angst and gripings, the beginning of my day felt like Christmas morning.  I woke up to money calling.  That’s how I pictured it – “Oh that’s more money calling me, I better answer.”

I felt the same kind of determination when I first tried Ayahuasca.  “Bring it on!  Is that all you got?!”

(Ayahuasca can be painfully illuminating and terrifying.  I had massive anxiety before diving into that other world).

I went upstairs to make myself some breakfast, and my phone rang four times.  I almost burnt my eggs.  My dad was laughing and being weirdly happy listening to me answer calls while my mom was flummoxed.

Mom – “Jeez, again?  Really?”  She said when my phone rang the fourth time within ten minutes.

I knew this was going to happen, I knew it.  I asked for it.  I can handle it no doubt.

I had six clients today and made $165 cash, not including the $17.50 Groupon gives me per hour.  I worked all day without eating, so here I am now.  Collapsed on my bed, all massaged out.  Melanie the Massaging Monkey should be the name of my business.  I’m a Monkey in the Chinese zodiac and I’m sure monkeys give awesome massages, but I hate picking bugs out of my clients hair.

Anyway, I have to sleep.  I HAVE to.  I get horrible insomnia when I stay up late to write, so it can’t happen tonight.

I hate writing blurbs.  This post is a blurb.  It doesnt’ say much.

What’s important to know here is that I survived my first day of being featured on Groupon.  I have four more days like this one and within the next few weeks, the onslaught will taper off.  That’s the best part – that this is not forever.  I don’t have to work this hard forever, it’s only temporary.  That thought keeps me going.  And as crazy as it sounds, this is actually fun.

I just miss my sleep, miss my beer, miss my video games, and my stinky rumpled Davey…

We went for all-you-can-eat sushi and I accidentally dropped a clump of rice into his Sapporo.  I felt so bad, so what does he do to ease my guilt?

He swallows it down!  He’s the best.

All these sheets are from today.  They broke my hamper 😦

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My funny resignation letter and dealing with a bitch and a man-baby

I’m officially sick of my job.  Not the actual act of massaging, no.  But sick of the place itself.  You want to know where I work?  Fine, I’ll tell you!  Massage Envy Ct phone number……..I won’t give you the phone number, but it’s easy enough to find.

Where should I start?  I’ll start at the very beginning.  The beginning of my misery and the downfall of the little clinic I loved so dear.  This all started with the hiring of a 56-year-old phony, bullshitting – busybody, Christina.

I wrote about her before.  She’s the woman who got upset at me for not wanting to do massage exchanges with her (you can read about that here).  She asked me if it’s because I don’t like people touching me.  Pffffff, the nerve.

I didn’t like her then, and I STILL don’t!  And I tried to like her.  I honestly have tried, but I swear this woman hates me.  And when I tell my coworkers how much she hates me, they say no, “She’s like that to everyone.”

The way she talks to her clients is so shrill and fake, anyone with a vague insight into the human psyche can see it.

She’s bouncy.  You know what I mean?  She goes to greet a client in the tranquillity room with about five or six clients silently waiting in there and she bounces on the couch next to her client and says:  “So are you ready?!  Are you ready to get your massage?!”  And she’s sitting/bouncing on the couch at the same time.  My coworker did an impression of her doing it, you have to see it to fully understand.

She likes to lecture people and “teach” them.  She like’s to greet new clients by saying, “Hi I’m Christina.  I’m the lead therapist and I only been working here since June, tee hee hee.”  Again, my coworker was doing an impression.  Funny as hell.  “But nobody wanted the position!  That’s the only reason she got it!”  My coworkers get just as worked up over her as I do.

I was offered the role of lead therapist and I knew that if I didn’t accept, I would have to put up with Christina hovering over me and bossing me around.  I knew (and I mean ESP knew) that my decision to turn down the role of top banana would cause me to quit.  I just knew it – I know things like that.  I also knew I didn’t want to stay there forever, or deal with Jeff on a regular basis.  So I said no thanks.

Have I describe Christina well enough?  Can you picture her yet?  She is ceaselessly annoying, talks over others non-stop for hours on end.  And since she’s the lead therapist, it’s her job to get all of us subordinates to adhere to her strict policy of up-selling.  “SELL SELL SELL!”  Her  glistening chin protruding and her eyes bulge.  “I sold my first enhancement of the day tee hee hee.”

I’m not so swift to listen to her lecture’s.  I either leave the room while she’s talking, or zone out and play on my phone.  Our “enhancements” mean that for an extra $12 you can get two hot wet towels applied to your back, or for an extra $10, you can get 12 drops of essential oil mixed into our regular all-purpose lotion.  That’s what it is spoken plainly and candidly, but the way the franchise hypes it up, even the therapist’s buy into it!  When I mention it to my clients, I can and usually do sell it if I want to, but it’s a rip-off and I won’t adhere to ripping people off.

Christina wants to write us a sales pitch and have us memorize it so we can give the spiel to our clients.  “Isn’t that a lovely idea?  Tee hee hee.”  Just writing her laugh is annoying!

Okay, so anyway, I don’t want to make this post too long, so I’ll try to make it quick.

Last week I gave a massage to a man-baby.  What I mean by man-baby is that this fully grown man had the body of a baby.  I shit-you-not!  Yes he was obese, but as I said before, I don’t think twice about obese clients.  There are as many of them as there are people of “average” weight.  To me, a body is a body, but a baby-man-body is something I take notice of!

It was as if he never stepped outside a uterus before.  Or he was being intravenously fed by tube’s from The Matrix and was recently ejected out of the chute and into the real world with the first thing on his list, to get a massage.

He wanted deep tissue.  Okay, no problem.  I can do that.  I pressed the palms of my hands into his back.  I pressed down and then down some more and then down, down, down…….”What the fuck’s going on?  No resistance?  Where’s his muscle’s?  Where’s his bones?”  He was as squishy as a freshly baked doughnut.  Not so much squishy, as he was soft.  Squishy has resistance.  He was as soft as…..a fucking baby!  I don’t know how else to describe it.  He was certainly unlike anything I’ve ever seen or massaged before.  Unreal, really.

The way I like to give (and get) deep tissue massage is that I massage very hard, only the muscles that are of a rock hard density.  This apparently wasn’t going to happen for this guy.  He was built like a snowman.

And his personality even sounded like a baby.  Sort of a bratty, “baby wants his binkie” or “baby did a doodie in his pants” kind of baby.  He was the largest, softest man-child I have ever laid hands on and it gave me the willies’ when I sunk my elbow down into his guts.  Gleh…..

I’m not usually this shallow and mean spirited, but this guy was a strange one.  For the whole massage I was thinking, “how the hell am I supposed to massage him?  How?”

About a week later my boss, Linda, told me that baby-man filled out an email follow-up questionnaire and emailed it back to the franchise.

Me – “Oh Jesus.”

Linda – “It’s okay, not a big deal.  He just said that he wished you used more pressure, but he was too afraid to ask.”

Too afraid to ask?  F*cking baby.

And that was it.  “No bid deal” she says.  So I brushed it off.  It was my first negative feedback I received in two years.

But it didn’t end there.  Christina heard about what happened and it was her way in.  She found a chink in my otherwise impenetrable armor, and dug he claws.

She set up a training session with me.  I saw it on my schedule when I walked into work yesterday.  I point to the screen and say “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a practical with me!  Tee hee hee.”

Me – “For what?”

Christina – “We’re just going to go over some protocol’s, draping procedure’s and that sort of thing.  Don’t worry, I’m easy.  Here, you can even look over what I’ll be grading you on.”

She hands me a chart with questions each having a scale from 1 to 5 beside each question.

What the fuck is this?

Me – “Is this from that one guy who complained about me last week?”

Christina – “Yes, Jeff take’s all complaints very seriously.”

Me – “So I get one complaint in two years and I have to take a practical exam?”

Christina – “I’m sure you had other complaints besides that one.”

Me – “Have I?  How would I find that out?”

Christina – “They tell you verbally about each complaint and send you an email copy of the clients questionnaire they filled out.”

Me – “I’ve never gotten any email sent to me and Linda only told me about that one guy.”

Christina – “……..Jeff’s reinforcing his policy’s.”

She giggle’s and takes a bite out of her wrap.  That’s the other thing, she is always eating.  She claims she’s on a  diet but I always see her stuffing her face.  And she brings into work this really gross, homemade funky, gunky drink in a mason jar.  She leaves it out sitting on the break room table all day and you can see the chunks in it separating and rising to form a jelly like crust on the surface.

“What the fuck is this?”  Is an expression that runs repeatedly in my head through out the day.

That was the conversation practically word for word.  Still burned into memory.  By the time we started my practical, it was already 17 minutes into the massage, she wanted full body and the rip-off enhancement they call “Deep Heat Muscle Therapy.”

I wanted to throw up my hands and say fuck it I’m out, but I had clients and I was sort of stuck.  I gave her the massage, she talked the entire time – loud talk “tee hee hee” talk.  I undraped one of her legs and tuck the sheet under her thigh as I normally do, and she says that’s the wrong way.

“Massage Envy’s policy is the diaper drape.”

She raises her leg in the air (she was face up at this point) way higher than necessary that it made me uncomfortable and I wondered what the hell she was doing with her leg up so high.  She pulled the sheet up so it was snug against her crotch.

“Te he, that’s better.”

This woman, goddammit, I seen the way she drapes and this is NOT it.  When we have couple’s massages together, she uncovers the entire side of the body – from feet to head.  One butt cheek perfectly exposed.  Is that Massage Envy draping?  No!  It’s “I want to glide my hands up and down your naked body” kind of draping.

Damn, I didn’t want to make this a long post…..shit.

To wrap it up, she expressed to Linda, my boss, that I need extra training according to the grades she gave me on the chart.  I was so infuriated beyond words, beyond my breaking point.  I had a shit-fit and started telling everyone what was happening.  I told them about the one guy that complained last week, and how it led up to this.

Coworker – “She  does it to everyone, sweetie.  Don’t worry, we’re all on your side.”

I couldn’t be subdued.  I was hot, I was sweating.  My coworkers patted me on the back, gave me hugs.  But by the end of the night, I decided I wanted out.  It’s quitting time for this lotion slinger.

To top the night off, I had to give a couple’s massage with Christina.  This couple, husband and wife, love me enough to move around their schedule in order to stay on mine.  The husband requested me this time.  The wife didn’t request Christina, she just ended up with her.

After their massage, they got dressed and met us in the hallway to chat and drink the complimentary cup of water.

Wife – “We won’t be seeing you next month because we’re going away.”

I asked them where they were going and told them I won’t be around either because I’m going on a month long vacation.

Husband – “Oh really?  Where?”

During this time, Christina was trying to talk over us, but the wife and I tuned her out – even the Husband tuned her out.  It was awesome!

Me – “Nepal.”

Wife – “Oh my God I knew that!  How did I already know that?!”

Her mouth hangs open and she stares at me.

Me – “I’m not sure, I only found out a few weeks ago.  I haven’t seen you since then.”

Wife – “I’m very intuitive, but that’s just plain weird.  I can’t believe I knew that!”

The husband chuckled.  Christina finally gave up trying to talk over people.

Me – “Do you sense the trip will be okay?”

Wife – “Yes!  It will be great!  You will have a wonderful time.”

She was being so sincere.  I could tell she was stunned by her telepathy and the way she looked at me made us share a sudden bond.  People like Christina will never experience that.

Christina is not a bad person, she really isn’t.  She like’s to cut people down, blow herself up, lie – any idiot can see that.  She has mental issue’s.  Even a client once called Christina “crazy” after getting a massage from her.  But just because she has text-book psychosis’, doesn’t make her bad a bad person.

But anyway, I’m quitting.  I spent two years working there anyway and I never stay at a job for longer than two years.   I either leave out of boredom or annoyance.  This time it’s a little of both.

Oh and Christina also told me that Jeff, the owner, was going to fire me!  But he didn’t because Christina told him not to because it wouldn’t be fair.  HA!  She’s such a scammer!  Everything is so phony about her.

When I got home, I wrote my letter of resignation:

 

At first I was trained
I was certified
Kept thinking I could never work
without Envy by my side
But I spent these past few hours
thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on!
and so I quit
from the Envy

I walked out of Christina’s lecture
left that look upon her face

I should have changed my stupid job
I should have wrote a new CV
If I had known for just one second
I would be quitting Massage Envy!
Go now go
I’m out the door
Just turn around now
’cause you’re not working anymore

Weren’t YOU the one who tempted me with free CEU’s?
You think I’d crumble
You think I’d give in for nickel and dimes?
Oh no, not I
I will resign
as long as I know how to rub
I know I will be fine
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got both my hands to give
and I’ll resign

It took all the strength I had not to disappear
kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken career
and so I spent oh so many minutes just feeling sorry for myself
I used to try
Now I hold my hands up high!

And now you see
Somebody new
I’m not that chained up little person
filling in gumballs just for you 
(has to do with selling enhancements)
and so you hoped I may conform or
just expect me to leave quietly
now I’m saving all my knowledge
for someone else who’s paying me,
……..more money!!!!!

– I Will Resign!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Um, okay, I thought about it and I’m not actually going to use that as my resignation letter.

So I wrote this instead;

Dear Linda,

I regret to inform you that I must part ways with Massage Envy.  It was a very easy decision, although a sad one.  I will write out a listed documentation of the reasons for my leaving.  Hopefully you will see things from my point of view.

  • I have recently been told by the head therapist that the only reason I’m still working there is because Jeff thought it would be unfair to fire me without a proper warning.  This was a shock to me.  I felt very threatened, and still do.
  • What I find to be unfair is not receiving any information about client complaints.  In the past two years, I have been told of one complaint, and that was last week.  Since then I have corrected the problem from occurring again.  Only yesterday did I find out that there were many other complaints.  I had no knowledge of them and therefore I’m left with little chance of correcting my mistakes and growing as a therapist.
  • I feel that the new added pressure to sell has gone beyond my comfort level.  If a client says no the first time, I let them be.  It is also hard for me to sell something that I find to be overpriced and overhyped (12 drops of oil for $10?  Two hot towels for $12?).  I also heard from the lead therapist that we are going to start utilizing a prepared sales pitch to give each client before every massage about the add-on’s.  The massage is only 50 minutes, and now their time will be cut even shorter by listening to a very poor sales pitch from a desperate, scared therapist.
  • I do not feel safe and secure in my job anymore.
  • I’m starting to doubt my abilities and my choice of career.
  • I’m losing sleep and feel stressed.
  • I hear complaints from other therapist’s.  Our turnover rate is increasing which is going to decrease clients.  I know of several therapists who are trying to make their way out.  Several already left with having similar complaints as mine.
  • I’m getting paid $16 dollars an hour, which is what I agreed to.  But under the new pressures and circumstances, the dollar amount is exceedingly low.
  • There are no benefits for working at Massage Envy.  Even for someone who’s been there for two years still has no job security or job growth.  And as of late, no appreciation.
  • I am no longer my happy, joyful self.
  • I am a gifted, dynamic, intuitive, loving person who feels that Massage Envy can no longer meet my level of requirement.  I have only one level, and that is enjoyment of my job.

I have already a job in my hometown that pays double for what Massage Envy pays.  The owner says that I am more than welcome to work as much as I like and pick my own hours.  My plan is to start my own business when I arrive back home after trekking the Himalayas for a month. 

Letting go of something I once loved, brings about more love and expansion. 

That is why I must let you go.

Peace out cub scout,

Melanie

Is that harsh? Am I an asshole or am I an asshole?  Fuck, who care’s.  Seriously though, I really do have another job.  The only thing I don’t like about my other job is that I have to sit and answer phones, do laundry for free.  But if I can get at least 10 clients a week there, I’ll be making the same amount of money that I do at Envy, plus I don’t have to drive all the way to Glastonbury.

I told my parents all about Christina and my mom said that she knew people just like her, “That woman’s a bitch.  Don’t listen to her.”  Thanks mom!  It’s times like these that I’m thankful I still live at home.  They don’t ask for rent, they stick up for me and call my nemesis’ bitches for me.  I love them!

I could do without all the whistle’s and my dad pointing at me telling me I’m going to get raped and murdered and nobody will be there to help me in Nepal.  But I tell ya, when it comes down to it, I choose them over a husband and kid’s.  For now anyway….While I can.

And now your moment of zen:

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, rant

I’m a Goddamned Vixen I tell you!

Goddamned (album)

Image via Wikipedia

I got to massage my cute plane crash survivor yesterday.  He requested a two hour massage with me and we talked the entire time.  This is the second time I massaged him and already we’re facebook friends.

Okay, this is nuts.  Really nuts!  I don’t get crushes on anybody.  I especially don’t get crushes on clients – never actually!

I seen his name on my schedule when I showed up for work (an hour late!  But I won’t get into that), and I was happy to see him on there.  I contained my happiness by bottling it up good and tight because he’s a client just like everyone else.  No different.

Why should he be any different, right?

But he IS different.  Goddamnit I have a crush.  It’s unavoidable.  We have so much crap in common it’s ridiculous.  Our thought’s are the same.

I greeted him and lead him out of the tranquility room.  He followed me down the hall to our little massage room when I asked him, “Last time I massaged you, did I keep calling you Martin?”

Martin (not his real name) – “Ha, no.  I think I would’ve remembered that.  If I heard you call me Martin, I would’ve corrected you.”

“Oh okay good.  For some reason I thought your name was Martin.”

The first time I massaged him, I tried looking him up on facebook and I even googled his name trying to find an article about his plane crash, but forgot his real name and kept googling Martin.  I didn’t find anything.

We walked into the massage room and started talking about the movie’s we watched on Netflix.  I told him to watch Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead for his “homework” and he did.  He even went on Amazon, bought a juicer and started his cleanse.

Martin – “How’s your cleanse doing?”

Me – “Oh, I uh…….I haven’t started it yet.”

Martin – “You haven’t started it?!  But you made such a big deal of it!”

He started laughing at me.  I felt so guilty – really guilty for not doing it.  We went on for a few more minutes talking before I got him undressed and on the table – we were cutting into his two-hours with silly chatter.

I get him on the table and the massage commences.

We both had the same thought’s about settling down.  I told him that by the time I’m ready to settle, I’ll marry a divorced guy already equipped with self-sufficient children who will then become my children so I don’t need to go through any labor and all the hard parts will be done.

Martin had a name for this.  He called it Instant Family and he already thought of it.

Martin – “I just think that the best time of your life happens when you’re young.  So you should enjoy it now while you can.  I’m not ready to settle and don’t know when I ever will be.”

Me – “Yes!  I feel the same way.  When I’m old, I’ll marry into a family so I’ll never be lonely.”

He kept laughing at me.  Everything I said sounded adorable – but I didn’t realize this at first.  I was just being my normal self, saying my normal everyday jibber-jabber when I couldn’t help noticing he was laughing at almost everything I said.  I tried seeing myself from his point of view and listening to myself speak and that’s when I realized how adorable I sounded.  I talk this way to everyone – my friends, my parents – everyone.  But this is the first time I experienced my own loveable nature.  It made me nervous, so I stopped talking so much and played it cool.  I mean, I didn’t want him to think I was being adorable on purpose (because I wasn’t).

I felt zen in those two hours.  No worries, no pretensions – just two honest and good people enjoying good honest conversation.

Damn crushes.  I hate them.  No crushes, school!  I need focus on school!

I’m planning on going to school after I start up my own business.  I can make my own hours, double my income and work less.  My business comes first – then I’ll take that god forsaken placement exam.

Martin thought of the name for my new business, Air Touch.  I’m going to buy an oxygen bar and strap it up to my clients during their massage.  It will have aromatherapy combined with pure mind numbing oxygen.  I priced them starting at $2,000.

Air Touch is a perfect name because it will come first in the alphabet and first in the searches!

Anywho, I massaged for five hours and went home.  Dave called me up wanting to go out.  I wasn’t in the social mood, but was hungry and didn’t see Dave in a while, so we went out.

I wanted to avoid Billy O’s because I didn’t feel like talking to anyone there (plus my brother hates Dave), but that’s where we ended up because Slider’s was packed.  It was 7 pm at Billy’s and slowly the normal crew dribbles in.

Dave and I were chatting with this old guy who seemed harmless at first, but then started getting touchy with me.  Dave left to go home and I was stuck with this old guy for a few minutes.  My bar friends intervened and kept him far away from me for the rest of the night – they even walked me to my car for fear the old guy was going to nab me.

Bar friend – “He smells like shit!  He stunk up the whole bathroom – it smells putrid in there and he still wreaks of it!”

The old guy had horrible gas – I mean the worst I ever encountered, and I encountered a lot.

Then the unprecedented happened.  I got hit on by the least likely person I knew there.

First off, I just have to clear the air and say that I am NOT pretty – not beautiful – not anything special.  I’m average at best and that’s when I’m wearing makeup and dressing like a normal person instead of my usual Hobo look.  And I’m not fishing for compliments here so please refrain from commenting on my looks, thanks.

Last night I was tired from work, probably had sauce all over my face from eating several chicken wings – which were delicious btw – I was wearing bulky layers.  A big bulky thermal over a t-shirt and then my hefty hoodie I bought in Savannah.  The bottom half of me was the sexy part.  Skinny jeans tucked into my nearly knee-high black leather boots with my phone and electronic cig shoved inside.  Sexy indeed.

I was standing at the bar talking to an old high school friend.  A popular girl in my grade that I thought was oh so cool.  We got thrown together in the same classes, worked at Stop & Shop together and our brothers are friends, her husband plays pool with me on Tuesdays, so fate keeps us crossing paths.

It was this girls brother who hit on me.

This guy is a family friend.  Any of my brother’s long-time friends I refer to as family friends.  He has a cocky, arrogant way about him, sort of like he’s a republican politician – you know what I mean?  He has blonde hair, sleepy blue bedroom eyes.  He’s not a bad looking guy, but I never thought of him like that.

The guy – “That guy you came here with what’s his name, Dave?  He was saying some horrible negative stuff about you.”

In all honesty, if Dave was saying anything bad about me, I wouldn’t take it to heart or get upset.  If he said anything bad, he would’ve had a really good reason for it and whatever his reason, I would understand.

Me – “Really?  Like what?”  I said this with a confused smirk.  The kind of smirk that say’s I’m above caring.

The guy – “It was just not good.  Really negative.”

For some reason, I wasn’t buying it.  But then I wondered why someone like him, a family friend, would lie about something like this.  It just didn’t make sense to me.  As I was thinking this, as though he read my thoughts, he says, “I have no reason to lie to you, I’m just looking out for you.  Your brother doesn’t like him and he’s a great judge of people.”

That didn’t help in convincing me.

Me – “Oh, I know.  It’s just that he must have had a good reason.”

The guy – “You know, to me – you are like an angel.  A pure angel.”

Uh oh.  Oh no.  Now it made sense.  He likes me!  But how?  Why?  How can this be and what the hell do I do about it?  Shit.  Shit.  Shit.

The guy – “I would really like it if you gave me a chance.  Let me take you to dinner.”

Me – “Oh wow I had no idea……That’s really nice, I mean, for you to ask.”

He went on and on about how much of an angel I am and that he’s good friends with my brother.  I just stood there not knowing what to say.  I literally couldn’t think of anything to say to the guy.  I need to plan for things like this in advance.  The only thing I planned for was what to do with unwanted kisses.  If someone tried kissing me I would say to them “it’s not a good idea.”  Kisses are easy to flake off, but this is something that would require more than “it’s not a good idea.”  I would have to explain why it’s not good.

Me – “You had a lot to drink tonight.  Seriously, a lot.  Really.”

The guy – “You think that’s what it is?  No, no.  From the first moment I saw you, I thought you were an angel.”

We talked like this for 10 or 15 minutes.  My bar friends, the one’s who were helping to keep the farty old man away, had to turn on one of their own and keep their guy away.

I never asked for their help to keep the stinky old man away, but they were adamant about it.  I didn’t see any harm in him, but they remained diligent and told me to stay far from him.  Now, almost the same thing was happening with their friend.  His sister who was a few feet from us comes over and tells him he has to go.  Now.

High school friend – “Come on I started the car.  Let’s go.”

The guy ignored her at first, but five minutes later she was back again to get him.  I was so thankful.  I couldn’t keep up the charade of answering his question by not answering his question.

Me – “Yeah, I’m leaving too.  It’s late.”

It was almost two in the morning.

I was hammered at the bar.  Dave insisted on two shots, old man bought me another beer – hammered!  I drank water for the last two hours I was there and I felt better, just tired as hell.  I’m always tired as hell after sobering up.

I drove home relatively safe and slept like a baby for the next ten hours.  I woke up at two pm today and went to Sushi Palace with Oriana and her son, then back to her house per her son’s persisting insistence, to watch a movie.

Now I’m laying in bed again feeling like it’s going to be another ten hour sleep for me.  I must silence my phone, turn off the lights.  Watch one episode of Mushi-shi before sleep in my warm cushy bed.  Martin watches Mushi-shi.  Martin……goddamnit.

Maybe I’ll get a massage tomorrow.  I can get one once a month for free at my job.

My life is so freaking easy.  So FUCKING easy!  Shit yo, you can hate me.  I hate me too.  I hate how helpless I’m going to be when I’m older.  I feel sorry for my future self.

But I love this.  I love laying in bed before I sleep, just knowing that I can sleep for as long as I like – not have to do anything tomorrow if I damned-well don’t feel like it.  I LOVE it!

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Melanie the crappy masseuse

I’m sitting at the coffee place in Barnes & Noble because Starbucks is packed.

After I bought my latte I said to the barista; “Why don’t they put out a tip cup for you guys?” And she said they are allowed to take tips but can’t put the cup out as a lost prevention type of thing.  She says this as she handed me back my penny.  Do I leave her the penny?  Do I fish out a dollar?  Giving her a dollar would be humiliating, wouldn’t it? But a penny would be worse.  So I left nothing at all which makes me feel like a cheap superior bastard hoarding wad’s of cash.

Why do I ask stupid questions I already know the answer to?  My question was pointing out how trite it is for Barnes & Noble not to allow them a tip cup.  I was envisioning the tip cup at Starbucks overflowing with quarters and bills – I felt bad.  I wanted this barista to know I was on her side.  If there was a petition, I would sign it.

I’m only working three hours today.  My life is hard I tell ya….

One of my clients is a two hour.  He requested me and we talk and talk the whole time.  It’s practically not even work.  That’s the habit I’ve been getting myself into lately – not paying attention to what my hands are doing.  I’m so used to talking to most of my clients that I’m focusing on their stories and not how well I massage their lat’s.  It’s developed into a habit.  I now suck at massage.

All I want to do is talk to people.  I don’t care about how well I massage them – I just like to talk.  Massage is obviously not my calling but I have to stick it out for now.

All my co-workers LOVE their job.  Only two of them want out and they’re going into nursing – but they’re still in the manual labor job of helping others.

I want to help people, but with my brain instead of hard manual labor.  My hands are delicate damn it!

I can’t say I hate my job, though.  Considering the alternatives for an uneducated gal, massage is pretty kick-ass.

I am not happy with this post.  No, not happy at all.  It sucks.

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No massage for you buddy, sorry

Everyday I faithfully pack up my good ol’ trusty laptop into my Hollister handbag and head off to work.  Everyday I lug it with me with the hope of getting an hour break to blog, but the break rarely comes.  The only reason why I’m sitting here in Starbucks is because my client cancelled.  He called and cancelled 15 minutes into his hour, so that leaves me about 10 minutes to type.

I’m feeling bitchy today.  I have this friend who is dating a boy who has a brother who has a crush on me.  He received a one hour massage gift certificate (for his birthday) from his brother.  He wants me to give him the massage.  I’m feeling bitchy because I told the girls at the front desk to tell this boy that I don’t feel comfortable massaging him.  I feel bad, but shit……  If you knew him you would understand.

The guy – “Can I have your number?”

Me – “Yeah but I never answer call’s so it’s kinda pointless.”

He doesn’t pick up on social queue’s.

Every minute I spend chatting with him, he tell’s me how much he loves my eyes – literally, once a minute.  If I massaged him, it would only exacerbate his desire for me and lead to ultimate disaster – or maybe not.  Maybe I’m just being a pretentious bitch trying to wriggle herself out of an awkward hour.

He doesn’t really like me anyway.  He likes that I’m always nice to him and pay attention to him.  I make him feel good.  When I’m out at a bar drinking, I tend to make everyone feel loved and wanted.  It’s never aimed at anyone specific, just generally everyone.  And I sincerely DO care for him, but if he caught me at a place where there wasn’t any alcohol, I probably wouldn’t be so nice.  Just my tired, usual self.

I attract people who need people.  This happens because I’m open and genuine with my love and attention, it sucks people in.  Then I’m left feeling like a guilty bastard the next day for ignoring their calls and/or texts.

This is a random text from him and maybe you can get a feel for who he is:

Whats your favorite music/artist, thank you for smiling.  My favorite coller is blue, yours is purple.

I don’t know this guy that well.  He may have emotional problems, but I can’t be certain.  I just don’t want him to feel hurt, but more importantly I don’t want him to feel hurt and flip out at me next time I see him.

So, when he calls to schedule his massage, he will know that I don’t want to massage him.  He’ll either get angry and freak, or be sad and sullen.  I’m hoping the latter.  Hopefully he will understand that it’s unprofessional to massage someone who’s lusting after me.  It’s unprofessional and weird for the therapist.  But he doesn’t seem like he would understand that.

I have to go back to work damn it.  I can seriously sit here for seven hours just typing the shit out of my blog.

I’ve been playing video games and reading instead of writing, but all this information crap keeps building on up in my head that I’m sure to experience another exploding head episode.

This post doesnt encompass the whole story of anything.  It’s crap I tell you!

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Melanie the Misanthropic Massuese

The social self.

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I really like that word, Misanthrope.

Molière’s character Alceste in Le Misanthrope (1666) states:

My hate is general, I detest all men;
Some because they are wicked and do evil,
Others because they tolerate the wicked,
Refusing them the active vigorous scorn
Which vice should stimulate in virtuous minds.[1]

I love that quote.  Molière says that you can stimulate your mind simply by fighting for what’s right instead of looking stupidly passive with dull doll-eyes staring numbly at the wicked that hath before you.  (I’m sorry but did I just say Hath?)

I want to be a misanthrope!  It sounds delightful.

What brings me to divulge in my dislike for the human race?

It all started last night.  I couldn’t sleep again.  The latte I had at Cheshire Coffee must’ve sprung a leak in my synapses – my brain was unhinged, firing away from one speedy thought to the next.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.  Why can’t I sleep?  My chi lost its flow.  My head sloshes ear to ear with biohazard.

I woke up after maybe two hours of sleep and went to work.  I felt exhausted but refused to let it bring me down, so I cranked up the radio and sang as loud as I could to Pat Benatar trying to hit the highest notes I could reach.  My highest note turned into a real genuine scream.

A while ago my Dad told me about a group of people somewhere in asia who get together by some train tracks and scream their lungs out when a train goes by.  They say it’s therapy.  To scream as loud as they can.

I decided to try it out yesterday in the car on my way to work.  I screamed as loud as I could and felt completely ridiculous so I started laughing.  I wondered if other people on the road could hear me and that thought alone cracked me up.  I screamed and laughed all the way to work.  I think it’s good excercise for the vocals.

I started singing again after screaming and I sounded awesome – better than before.

Screaming is great therapy for a misanthrope.

I felted pumped.  Super tired and sick, but pumped all the same.  I grabbed my first clients chart and looked it over.  My heart sank.  My first client was a 16-year-old high school athlete who rubs himself during the massage.

WTF.  WTF….Why today?  I felt the anger pains rising – I was in no mood – had no patience for this behavior and could quite easily snap.  I was also angry at my job for allowing him to keep coming back (to a female therapist no less!).  I was pissed.

He’s had about a dozen massages, most of them reported inappropriate touching.  One therapist was so offended that she simply walked out of the room.  Now it was my turn to have to deal with him.

I greeted him and was relieved to see an awkward, pimply kid and not some big muscle head jock.  I brought him into the massage room and told him I will start him face up.  If I started him face down and then turned him over half-way through the massage, there would be an erection.  However, if I started him face up – there normally wouldn’t be an erection in the beginning so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.  Out of sight, out of mind, right?

I gave him about 4 or 5 minutes to get undressed and get on the table.  I knocked on the door before going in.

Him – “You can come in.”

I walk in the room and see his hands under the sheet already rubbing himself.

Me – “So you like to touch yourself during a massage, do you?”

Him – “Huh?”

Me – “I see you touching yourself.  That’s not going to happen this time.  Arms out where I can see them.”

Him – “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I wasn’t doing that.  I definitely wasn’t doing that.”

I ignored his pleads because I knew any retaliation would only escalate my animosity and drain the little bit of energy I had.  His arms were out from under the blanket and if I seen him go anywhere near his private’s again, I would simply walk-out.  I actually wanted him to do it again, just so I can get out of there and still get paid.

But he didn’t.  He behaved for the rest of the massage.  At times it seemed like he’d forget he wasn’t allowed to touch down there, and started moving his hand but would remember and catch himself before he could….catch himself.  It was a bored, fidgety habit – a compulsion he had trouble  controlling.  Like an OCD tick.

And after I yelled at him, a normal asshole pervert would get even more turned on from being scolded and apologize with a smirk saying it won’t ever happen again.  But this kid was denying it to shreds – feeling ashamed and embarrassed.  I’m not a child psychologist or anything, but it seems like a real psychological disorder to me.

Or he could just be a malignant narcissist, the worst kind of sociopathic/psychopathic disorder that breeds pure evil, but I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.

I told the manager what happened and she talked to him after the massage.  I wrote in his chart that he needs professional help and should stop getting massaged.  I don’t expect them to suspend his membership.  Why don’t I expect them?  Because I’m a misanthrope and stopped believing in people to do the right thing.  Everybody chooses money over morals.  Everybody.

I stopped writing this post last night so I could fall asleep at a decent hour.  I just woke up and got about 10 hours of sleep and I still don’t feel well.  I’m sick.  Officially.

I’m supposed to wake up at 5 am tomorrow to go to Canada.  My own Mother was trying to teach me how to lie to my friends by telling them that I have to stay home and look after her while my Dad is away.

Me – “I don’t lie to people.  I’m not a liar.  You may do that sort of thing, but I don’t.”

Mom – “I don’t lie!  I’m not a liar!”

Me – “What are you talking about?  You’re trying to teach me how to do it!  I don’t see any reason to lie.  It’s stupid.”

Mom – “Okay, you’re right.  Forget everything I said.  It is wrong to lie, don’t listen to me.”

It is a rare occurence to see my mother admit guilt.

If my own mother lies without guilt, than what are the chances of me trusting anyone in the world?  None!

I might write a book.  This chapter would be titled, “Melanie the Misanthrope battle’s a malignant narcissist and her Mother.”

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Stupid people

I had to give a couple’s massage today with a new girl at work. Couple’s massage’s are when two people get massaged at the same time in the same room.

Me and the new girl walk into the empty couple’s room to prep it before our clients arrived. I spotted a dime sitting morosely on the corner table doing nothing and belonging to no one. How did it get there? Who left it? Who the hell care’s, right? Wrong! Apparently the new girl cares.

Just so we’re clear on this, I’m talking about ten cents. A dime. Not $5, not even a dollar. No, ten cents.

Me – “I’m taking this!” I say with brute force and ridiculous hostility.

The new girl looks up from her paperwork and see’s me holding up my prize.

New girl – “Uhhh….”

Me – “It was right here.” I slid it back to it’s original location.

New girl – “Oh.” She say’s dumbfoundedly, like the dime was not a dime at all but a prosthetic leg left behind, or something equally confusing.

Me – “You don’t think anyone would mind me taking it, do you?”

New girl says with a straight face – “Well, I don’t care if you take it, but you shouldn’t tell anyone you took it.”

WTF? I pictured myself bragging to my fellow coworkers of my mischievous shenanigans of stealing a dime in the couple’s room while no one was looking.

Me – “Soooo, you’re saying that I should leave the dime here? Where I found it?”

I put the dime next to the alarm clock and stared at it. New girl also stared at it. The room was quiet. I looked back at New girl.

New girl – “I won’t tell anyone you took it, you can take it.”

She does that little head shake wobble thing people often do when trying to gain trust in others.

People are fucking stupid and it makes me crazy!!

I had my stupid moments, but nothing quite on that caliber. One time while I was waitressing, in the weeds busy as hell, I stood at a large table of 6-8 people taking their sweet-ass time ordering.

Me – “Maybe I should come back when you’re ready?”

The table – “No no, we know what we want.”

One lady at the table – “I have too much acid in my stomach. I need something non-acidic.” She say’s this into her menu. Then she looks up at me and asks, “Do you have any non-acidic juice?”

What the hell is non-acidic juice? Perhaps she said non-hasidic jews? It sounds very similar.

Me – “Milk?”

The whole table flares up in uproarious laughter.

Me – “Prune juice? I don’t know of any non-acidic juice. I’ll go ask the bar.”

I scurried away like a wounded cockroach. I still don’t know what non-acidic juice is.

And last month one of my clients told me she was getting a pap test.

Me – “Do you have to study for it?”

I didn’t hear her correctly. I didn’t hear the “pap” part because she was talking into the face cradle. She seemed a little let down that she was talking to an idiot.

That’s actually a ” Yo Mamma” joke.

Yo Mamma so stupid she tried studying for a pap test.

20080718 - Post-Construction Party #1 - (by Ch...

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Math is crap

Each of these crowns consists of similar "...

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Have you ever met a brilliant person that you can learn something from?  How did they get so exceptional?  What makes them so different from me?  I’ll tell you how they’re different – they are great thinkers.  They think so damn much that they became good at it.

It’s so apparently obvious what has to be done to become a better you.  You have to think.  Seriously, it’s that simple.

Nobody thinks anymore.

I’ve been noticing my train of thought lately – really taking heed of it.  It’s always the same questions, same statements, same annoyances.  repetitive – really freaking repetitive.  When do the gems have time to sneak in through all that poop in my head?

How can I bring myself to a higher state of consciousness?  How can I become more self-aware?  Should I refrain from using the word ‘poop’ as often as I do?

Once I become comfortable with who I am, I’ll be unshakable to outside influences which in turn can eliminate half the unwanted jargon swimming around in my poop-soup brain.  Stew rather, poop stew brain.

What the real issue at hand is this:  It’s 9:30 pm and I spent the whole day avoiding studying.

Math is analytical, not creative.  It’s not personal or emotional.  It doesn’t emit any feel good vibes that give me energy to keep me lively and entertained for hours on end, no.  It’s shit.  Math is crap.  Crap crap crap.  Is that repetitive thought?  It’s crap in a handbag.  Crap on a stick.

I have to figure out a way to like math.  All my life I used the creative, intuitive side of my brain – it’s developed nicely into a finely tuned instrument (at least I hope), and now I have to develop the analytical side now, which I believe, can be done.

How can I like math?  Maybe it’s the easy, boring stuff that bogs my spirit – possibly it gets better?  More interesting?  I have to WANT to do it.  How can I want to do it?  I want to paint and play the guitar, learn the piano – I want to build a desk out of a tree that I chopped down myself (lol, it would look like a stump).

I have so many interests.  The only reason I became a massage therapist was because I didn’t know what else to do.   I couldn’t pick just one thing, so I picked nothing for a very long time.  That’s the truth.  I’ve had numerous clients ask me why I chose this field, and I would tell them, in mid-massage, I would tell them it’s because I didn’t know what else to do.

I was attracted to massage because I liked the hours.  Short hours, good money.  I can do massage until my calling strikes.

This is a very similar experience with many people – that they didn’t know what else to do.  They got roped into something because of the hours, maybe a promotion or pay raise – path of least resistance, you know?

I need to wake up my brain and think a bit. How can I like math?  I need to really think about this.  The answer will come, I know it will.  I’m not thinking like a mathematician.  Mathematician’s chose that field because they are good with numbers.  What makes them so good with numbers?

I was born under the same sun as Galileo, our brains are of equal size and mass.  I’ll start my math journey by finding a math goal.  I’ll use Galileo’s famous quote about math being the language of the universe.  Maybe that will jump start me.

Pythagoras was a philosopher who I believe became a mathematician by necessity in order to find answers to philosophical questions.  I like that idea – that I can relate to.

I’m going to watch tv now and drink some tea.

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