No massage for the ‘dark passenger’.


I’m wondering if I’m the only therapist who thinks about weird things like this.

Really hoping I’m not.

Because I want to be normal.  In this one way.

I am easily distracted while watching one of my all-time favorite shows, Dexter.
Not distracted by trying to figure out the plot, or wondering if Deb will eventually end up horizontal & naked atop her newest rival with her jesus christ perfect little body.

I imagine what it would be like to massage the cast.  Occupational hazard. Thankfully I don’t do this with all my shows because that would be creepy & time to cancel my Time Warner account.

Years (and years and years) of doing massage has changed the way I view people.  When I see huge guys in the street, standing in line in Taco Bell (where neither of us should be) etc., only one thing comes to mind – thank god I don’t have to massage them.  My mind goes there automatically.  I hope that eventually subsides once I stop doing massage because it’s wrong to hate people primarily on their appearance, especially since there are so many other things to hate them for.


Don’t ask/don’t tell.


It still confuses (annoys) me when I hear other therapists ask the client how their pressure is during the massage.  Guess what their response is 98% of the time?  “You can go deeper”.  Since the last thing I want to do in the scope of my small world is go deeper on anyone ever, I don’t ask.  This is the deal; I give a firm Swedish massage and a very decent deep-tissue.  I tell every single client before the massage to please let me know if they would like me to adjust anything during the treatment including my pressure or room temperature so I don’t have to interrupt them and they can relax.

Know why?

Because I know I have good judgment and can read your body better than the guy/girl/sheep (especially sheep) that is fucking you.  I can tell by your flinching to ease off; I can tell by how tightly you hold onto your legs when I try to move them how shy you are and I won’t undrape your entire ass; I can tell if you’re ticklish when I put my hands on your feet; I can tell if you’re cold by the feel of your skin; I can tell if you’re unable to relax by the fluttering of your eyelids; I can tell if you are happy by the slight smile on your face when I flip you over and I can tell if you’re a virgin when I – whoops, disregard.

If you are unhappy with my pressure, don’t rebook with me.  I want clients who appreciate my work and let me do what I do.  Believe it or not, it takes 2 people to secure a great massage session.  Even with my best work on my best days, if you don’t let me in, I may as well attempt to blow a Ken doll.  It just ain’t gonna happen.

There are times I go beyond my limit with pressure because I’m a people pleaser but the outcome is always the same…I hurt myself and those clients rebook with me so I can do it all over again.
True meaning of the term ‘schmuck’.

Leave the Judging to Amy.


You would think I’d learn from the multiple thousands of times I’ve been wrong about this. But learning seems overrated most of the time.

It must somehow benefit me to decide, upon first view, that my robed client is gonna be a demanding asshat or a misinformed miscreant (very aware I could have simply used the word ‘jerk’ but I love this word. I don’t know why, I just do).

Jesus, they’re just sitting there doing nothing.  They couldn’t be doing more nothing and probably not even wearing underwear doing nothing.

I am wrong almost 200 percent of the time.  Those are the clients that end up being the nicest and the least demanding, in search of  a little love or even less, just a lie-down.

So don’t judge them because they’re nervous or having a bad day. Wait until they deserve it.  And don’t worry, they will.

Yelp Reviews That Really Marsh My ‘Mellow


I’ll start from the beginning of my experience. Reception very nice. I showed up a half hour before my appointment to have time to relax and change, and maybe a sauna. She showed me the locker room, which was fine, but nothing special, and told me to go sit in the lounge once I changed.  I came back out to ask if I had to go there right away, or if I could relax in the sauna a bit since I was early. She said no problem. So I went to the sauna, and it was out of order (no mention by receptionist).   I then went and sat in the lounge, and filled out a form where they asked me if there was any part of my body I didn’t want massaged. I said I didn’t want my belly massaged, even though most don’t do that.  I waited until the time of my appointment (too much time to sit in front of brownies and not eat them), and then about 10 minutes after the appointment time, the therapist came in. She brought me to the room and asked me if I wanted anything special. I told her I wanted her to spend a good part of the time on my hamstrings and pyraformis muscle because they were very tight, and less time on other parts.  She then proceeded to tell me her hands were strong and I should let her know if she should lighten up.  I didn’t find them particularly strong, so I asked if she could apply a little extra pressure when she got to my hamstrings. She replied that I could upgrade to a deep tissue massage if I wanted to. The Blissage description had said, among other things, that it will target my most troubled muscles. The upsell basically ruined my mood, but it only got worse.  She spent very little time on my hamstrings and pyraformis, and rushed through my whole back side. She then flipped me over and informed me that they do the tummy at Bliss.  I asked her not to and reminded her of what I wrote on the form, which she obviously hadn’t read.  She then rushed through the front side and when she got to my feet, she went on FOREVER (like this review?)  She clearly didnt’ time it well, so decided to spend all the extra time on my feet. It got to the point of being irritating. I had something on my eyes, so couldn’t see her, but it was clear she wasn’t even paying attention to what she was doing because the rubbing basically kept stopping and starting (she may have been texting).  She finally finished, and I looked at my watch and she had not extended the time after being 10 minutes late, so basically gave me a 65 minute massage for the price of 75 minutes.  Needless to say I am not inclined to return.

First, when writing a review keep in mind that people have other things to do. Keep it to the point. I had to edit out half your review because it was an endless, moronic clusterfuck of boring crap that enriched zero persons.  I found myself wanting to rip out my eyes and swallow them.
No one gives a shit how long you were sitting in front of brownies. I know you think you’re adorable & amusing but if you have an intense desire to write tedious, random piffle, start a blog.

And if your piriformis muscle was that important to you, you’d stop spelling it wrong.

You basically booked a Swedish massage. The description under Blissage 75 clearly describes it as a ‘ridiculously relaxing rubdown’.  Just because it targets ‘troubled muscles’ doesn’t mean it’s ‘deep’ work, shithead. If you want deep-tissue, book a deep-tissue. If you had read the menu you’d have seen a sports massage that includes “deep-tissue work”. It’s not an upsell if they are asking you to pay for the service you are requesting.

She probably wasn’t paying attention to the massage because she was way too busy contemplating cool ways to kill you and dispose of your body (especially your piriformis muscle), as well as trying to remember if she needed to stop and get cat litter on the way home. It’s quite challenging to juggle all those things at one time. If indeed she was texting, it was to her arms dealer to bring her the largest weapon available that would induce the most pain possible.
And we all wish she would have.

FB & the god damn bells/Client Stories


My shift was awesome; which gently translates to ‘it sucked ass through a straw’.

4 clients:

1- sick & coughing and thought it was amusing.

2- 14 years old; wasn’t legally supposed to be on my table without pubic hair but of course was.

3-  one who waited till the last two minutes to tell me I can go deeper (because there wasn’t enough opportunity in the 58 minutes prior).

4- read below.

so score.

You gotta know where the session is going if, when picking up your clients in the lounge, they are already miserable. It’s a pretty sure tell.

It was a couple’s massage and I was initially thrilled that I got the female because her husband was pretty massive (and not in a way that would have benefited me in any way).
She was one of those small, uptight city girls who works out a lot and definitely doesn’t swallow.
30 minutes into the massage, after I had already worked on her back and one leg (and placed a warm, scented pillow on her neck), she sits up abruptly like a character in a Japanese horror movie and says “Stop. I can’t do this. I’m too anxious and I can’t relax”.   I gave her a robe and she left the room.  Of course her husband didn’t flinch because I am sure he was used to this erratic behavior and was probably thrilled that she was gone.
Outside the room I asked if she was ok. She said the music was too weird and the bells were freaking her out. I brought to her attention the fact that she could have mentioned it and I would have turned the music off. But then she would have had nothing to bitch about and that’s what this was all about.

She was so upset after her ‘traumatizing’ experience with the ‘weird’ music that she couldn’t even wait upstairs in the spa for her husband to finish his massage.
Upon checking out her husband asked the receptionist if his shrew (my word but he was thinking it) had left me a tip.  He was ready to leave me $20 on his credit card but anticipated the verbal bashing he would no doubt receive. He went downstairs to both retrieve his balls and a $5 tip from her purse; because it was my fault that she didn’t like the locker rooms and I was the friggin’ musical coordinator for the spa.

God damn bells owe me $15.