The Craziest Massage Of All Time

Munch and I went on an adventure to the big City, and while I was there, I hurt the shit out of my back.  I was so whiney about it, I decided that I had to get a massage.  But I couldn’t find any place near me, or near the place I had to be that had afternoon.  After about an hour of desperately searching, I finally found someone who would take me.

Receptionist to Holistic Health Place (Julie): Hello?

Toni: Hi, is there any chance that you have someone who could massage today?

Julie:  Oh no, I am sorry, none of our masseuses are here today?

Toni: Oh dear.  I am really really desperate.  I am dying.

Julie: Well maybe I can have someone come in at 5?

Toni: I just have this meeting at 4 where I am interviewing someone…. So I would need to be done by 3:30.

Julie: I could maybe to 4…

Toni: Well my meeting is at 4 so….

Julie: How about 3:30?

Toni: My meeting is still at 4 though?

Julie: You know what darling.  If you can get here in an hour, we will figure something out.

Toni: I am on my way.

Maybe considering that Julie didn’t really have the same understanding of time as I did, I should have been slightly concerned… but at that point, I was so despairing I didn’t care.

I hobbled into the Holistic Health Center, and Julie tells me that she couldn’t get a hold of any of the masseuses.

Julie: But I am also a masseuse, so I will work on you today.  I just still have to do some things at the front desk as well, because I am still the receptionist.

Toni: That is fine.  I am just so grateful to be here.

Julie: Also, we don’t have a massage table today, because the masseuse usually brings her own table.  And I also don’t have a massage room.  So we only have the one back room that isn’t being used for our procedures.

I decided to ignore my curiosity of what kind of “procedures” Julie could be referring to.

Toni: That is okay.  Anything will do.

Julie then brought me back to one of the back rooms, which I then realized was a colonic room, and that I was in fact, in a colonic center.  It then dawned on me that the leather table I was about to lay on, was a colonic table, and that the sound of rushing water I was hearing, was actually the sound of people’s impacted shit being processed.

Julie: Is the sound of the water going to bother you?  We are just flushing out our septic system today.  It gets a little backed up considering our line of work.

Toni: It is fine.

Julie: We can just pretend it is the ocean.

Toni: I will do just that.

Julie: Sorry I don’t have a sheet for you to lay on, or to cover you up.  I hope the paper is okay.

Toni: Totally cool.

I get on the table, and the table is exactly as tall as I am.  So the top of my head was pressed against the wall, and my feet had to be tucked into the fold of the colonic table against the other wall.  To my right was wall, so the only way Julie could have access to that side of my body was by leaning over me so much so that my left hand kepis cupping her crotch.

Julie: Sorry it is such a tight fit.

Toni: That is fine.

Julie started to massage me, but the walls were extremely thin, and I could hear the man in the next room having his colonic administered to.  Lucky for me, the grunts, groans, and primal noises of shit getting sucked out his ass were the soundtrack to my healing.

Also…. because I was basically laying on leather with a bit of paper over it, I was not only was I freezing, but I also slipping all over the place the more she greased me up with CVS brand baby oil – and I think KY jelly.

Knock. Knock.  Knock.

Julie: Yes?

Other Colonic Lady: Julie, there is someone who need to do a co-payment?

Julie: Oh dear.  Listen honey, I will be right back okay?

Then I was left with own thoughts, the chorus of colonics happening around me, and the visual of people getting their butts vacuumed out.

Julie came back, but 15 minutes later had to leave again for another responsibility.  Then she would come back in for a bit, massage a part of me, leave again, come back and massage a totally different part of me, need to take a phone call, then massage a part of me she said she was already done with.  There was no rhyme or reason to where she was putting her hands, but at least when they were on me I was less freezing.

At one point Julie straddled me to get the side of my back she couldn’t reach… and there was another moment where she pulled my paper sheet up from the bottom, exposing my legs and buttocks, in order to rub my shoulders.

Because Julie kept leaving and coming back, she also kept promising me extra time.  So I ended up spending 3 ½ hours there, having to turn my neck from side to side as it cramped up from one lodged position to another.

To end this marathon, Julie massaged my head  – but her hands were covered in oil, which she then subsequently rubbed off in my hair.  When I got to woman’s house I was interviewing, my hair was so greasy I looked like I spent my entire youth playing Dungeons and Dragons.  She kept looking at the top of my head and suppressing her gags.  I wanted to say “hey, I know it looks like I haven’t showered since the Reagan years, but I have.” Yet for some reason, I just didn’t say anything about it, and instead acted like it was totally normal to look like you spread Crisco on your hair for the sake of high fashion.

(That is NOT water on my head??!!!)