FB & the Jolly Rancher/Client Stories

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Last night’s, last minute, 8pm booking (we close at 9 and usually prepare to get ready to leave at 4 so these clients are way at the top of the list of most wanted dead).
It was a female request/deep tissue massage (second on that very same list).

My contempt and I went to pick up Lucas for his session;
a stocky, tattooed, demanding fellow.

“Lucas, what would you like me to concentrate on?”

Neck
Upper Back
Lower Back
Calves
Just all over…

“Lucas, I need you to let me know what needs the most work; we only have an hour.”

He replies –

Neck
Upper Back
Lower back
Calves
All over
in other words Lucas was a complete jackass.

Oh and go as deep as possible. I can take it. I’ll let you know if you are hurting me.
Me: “Ok, wait, let me go home and get my All-Clad frying pan and smash you in the face with it and you let me know when I’m hurting you.”

His back feels like set concrete.
I decided to just beat the shit out of him, throwing any safe new deep-tissue techniques I just learned, in the garbage for the hour.
I was going so deep, the table was crying…

Then there was silence. Thank god, the beast fell asleep.
I turned him over. Winter had ended and hibernation was close to a finish.

He asked me if I’ve ever tried using a tincture of cannibis.
I couldn’t understand him, so I went up to his head and asked him what he was talking about.

It was then, I smelled, what, I could only imagine, was 2 bottles of  long gone whiskey.

He began talking about putting liquid cannibis into candy. Making cannibis Jolly Ranchers.
He then, put his clasped hands behind his head and started talking, in depth, about hard drugs and different ways of using them, etc.
I didn’t know whether to finish the massage or ask him for a Jolly Rancher.
I went through the motions of working on his legs, while he chatted about every type of drug on the planet (all the while I was trying to conjure up a magic spell
to cause him to spontaneously burst into flames along with the spa).

Thank god, the other therapist, who was lucky enough to have his ‘friend’ (a thin, weird, sparkly eye make-up wearing girl, who could have been a stand in for ‘Columbia’ in the “Rocky Horror Picture Show”) shook my curtain, letting me know the dread was over and I said, “Oh, it seems like your girlfriend is done, our session is over.”

When I went up to the front desk to alert them of my client’s state, the receptionist said, “Oh yeah, he was totally jacked-up.”

I guess they didn’t feel as if  I would have benefited from that information.

FB & the Stupid Big Fat Tits/Client Stories

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I’m fairly competent at problem solving.  I think it’s a mom thing.  You always have to be ‘on’ because you never know what’s around the corner.  That’s why moms have pocketbooks that would challenge Monty Hall.  I carry Starbuck’s instant coffee, raw brown sugar, ginger tea, Emergen-C, xanax, tylenol, hand sanitizer, tissues and band-aids. That’s just in one pocket.  The other pockets hold weapons and clean underwear.

Point please.

I had a client last night who took me to my last nerve.  I honestly didn’t know what to do.  Pretending to be deaf and/or claiming English as my second language were options considered.

Lots of fucking idiots come in soon after they get breast implants and explain that it hurts to lay face down on the table knowing more than damn well they will, at some point, be asked to lay face down on the table.
Yes, I can work on them side-lying.  Yes, I can work on them face-up; however, this girl wanted me to go really deep on her back without pressing on her back.
She knew what she was asking and even after witnessing the confusion on my face showed no concern at all.  It was clear it would be my fault if this wasn’t achieved somehow.  It was like asking someone to bake a cake without ingredients. Or a pan.

So I baked the shit out of that cake.  While she had the drape over her eyes, I ran out of the room and asked someone to grab me a medium towel that I could roll up and place under her shoulders so she could lie face down taking pressure off of her stupid big fat tits and I elbowed the fucking fuck out of her lower back.  Anger unleashed.

I actually owned pride for about 2 minutes.  I was almost finished with the massage when she said – again – could you work on my upper back deep without pressing hard on my back?

Good luck finding her body.

My absolute favorite client story ever: MJ and the Red Hot Faggot (not what you think)

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I wish to god this was my story but sadly another therapist got the pleasure of experiencing this holy shit…

A few weeks ago I took part in a couple’s massage on an annoying young male gay couple (I’m mentioning this just so you can picture the scene. I’ve worked on PLENTY of annoying straight couples). I knew I was in trouble even before the massage started when I was in the changing room taking a leak and I spied a tall, skinny, long-haired, 20-something tattooed white guy in there singing loudly to himself while he brushed his gorgeous locks away from his face. I just knew, KNEW this guy would be one half of the couple. Unfortunately, I was right. For the massage, my client was a smaller Filipino guy and a total stress case. He was the yin to the other’s yang. Short-haired, uptight and in charge. The other therapist had the “free spirit”. They were saying the usual annoying couple’s shit to each other during the massage like, “How are you doing, babe? Good, babe. And you?” and “I love you, baby! I love you, too, baby.” And they discussed work constantly. I’m pretty sure they were caterers from LA based on their conversation. They were talking shit about everyone. But, whatever. When you hear this drivel you usually just roll your eyes at the other therapist and move on. However halfway through the massage, after the other therapist had the long haired client turn over onto his back, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a red glow coming from his direction. I looked over to see what the hell it was and almost stopped my massage in shock. He was smoking a cigarette. In over five years of massage I’ve seen some pretty freaky shit, but this blew my mind. I was going to say something after I calmed down, but when I didn’t smell any smoke I soon realized it was an e-cigarette. Since it wasn’t annoying to ME and there was no apparent fire hazard, I let it pass and we finished the massage, during which he took a few more puffs. Of course, after they left, the other therapist and I immediately started cracking up. She said that he was also smoking while he was face down. She could see the red glow coming from underneath the face cradle. She freaked out before she realized what it was. We couldn’t believe the guy wasn’t able to stop smoking for a FUCKING HOUR.

How to eat & drink while giving a massage by someone who does that a lot.

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Yes, you read correctly. You should not eat before a massage but I can absolutely eat while giving you that massage.  Hypocritical awareness – check.

Sometimes it’s because we’re slammed with back to back massages and don’t have a break.

But usually it’s because I’m bored and it gives me something to do during the massage (besides the actual massage).

The client is face down for the first half of the massage so you could pretty much play naked Twister as long as one hand is on them doing something.

Obviously you’re not gonna eat something smelly like a tuna sandwich or loud like potato chips but a bagel – sure. A brownie – absolutely.
The room is dark and there is usually a counter or small table somewhere in the room. Not anywhere near their face or on the sink where it can and will fall in.
You have them cut the bagel in quarters. It’s all in the details people. If you’re gonna do something prohibited, slam it hard and with excellence.

I can go for an hour without food but without coffee? That’s just cruel.  So here’s the drill. You can keep coffee (in a travel cup) in the cupboard until you start the massage or bring it in the room but hold it down low or walk in backwards while closing the door so you’re hiding it because sometimes the client doesn’t understand that face down doesn’t mean face up. After completing each area of the body, enjoy your morning brew while quietly placing the cup back down on table. Have an altoids or a tiny cup of mouthwash by the sink out of sight so you can use one or the other before turning client over and having coffee breath in their face. I sound insane right now. It seems so normal while doing it but writing it makes me contemplate checking myself into a psych ward. Again.
After they are face up, cover their eyes with a cloth drape so you can finish your coffee ummm I mean so it’s more relaxing for the client with less light. Place  cup back in cupboard before finishing massage because seeing a coffee cup or any food items in the room during a massage is grossly unprofessional.

For more elaborate instruction, please contact me.

Should you eat or drink before getting a massage?

spock_massage

Asshole.

Me.  Probably you too but I can’t make that judgment until I’ve met you.

I just signed up with Pandora because it’s 14 years ago.  Upon choosing my radio stations, I paused with each one in fear that anyone would stumble upon it like a lost diary and find out that I added a Barry Manilow station and also I  just realized I titled a post after a Barry Manilow song and am now just too embarrassed to be a person but this glass of Malbec is absolutely helping me forget about Barry Manilow and how I just wrote Barry Manilow 3x in one sentence – now 4.

How the shit is this a post on massage in any form?  ‘Cause it is right now.

But first Kenny Rogers because I love him and don’t give a fuck that my closest male friend, MJ, is absolutely shaking his head in both disbelief and disgust right now.  More disgust than disbelief.

So duh, drinking any liquids before a massage means only one thing. Pee.
Hold off on the liquids for at least an hour before your service so you can avoid interrupting the service, asking the therapist for your robe so you can use the bathroom, having the therapist roll their eyes into their head and pretend they don’t mind at all. They’re minding . A lot.

And the eating before a massage follows the same rules as swimming (without the water and the cramps and it’s not like swimming at all now that I think about it).
Try not to eat at least an hour or so before your massage for a couple of reasons. Why chance feeling gassy and bloated while trying to enjoy a pretty amazing experience? Also, one of the biggest benefits of massage is circulation:

For the whole body to be healthy, the sum of its parts–the cells–must be healthy. The individual cells of the body are dependent on an abundant supply of blood and lymph because these fluids supply nutrients and oxygen and carry a way wastes and toxins. So, it is easy to understand why good circulation is so important to our health and why massage can be so beneficial for the entire body due to its effect on circulation alone.

So, let your body focus on doing that stuff instead of working to digest that foot-long you just devoured washed down with a 70oz. Pepsi.  Hey, I get it – it’s $4.99 – no judgments.

Carpenters.
Blow me.

No massage for the ‘dark passenger’.

ChinoFrame

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.

Leave the Judging to Amy.

divine_judgement_by_mindconversion-d4lkypb

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.

Should I go to massage school?

“There are two avenues for broken lost people; they either find Jesus or become massage therapists”
-Marc Maron/Comedian

Yes.
Absolutely yes.
Go to massage school.

It is without a doubt the most rewarding & fun job you could possibly get paid to do (besides eating cake and getting finger fucked simultaneously).
Jesus. That was absolutely revolting, inappropriate…and true.

Even at it’s worst, it’s twelve thousand times better than sitting in a cubicle performing tasks a mildly retarded monkey could accomplish while also being pressured into superficially signing endless birthday cards and chipping in for mediocre last minute stale birthday cakes for every god damn employee who works within 100 feet of your utterly sad workspace.

You will ALWAYS own the skill of massage therapy.
You will ALWAYS have a way to make a living.
Not a great living.  Whatever.

I have worked with the most wonderful, loving, talented, creative, hard-working, thoughtful, bright, and fun people imaginable.
Don’t tell them that.  Let’s let them think they are the mindless fools I make reference to.

It costs a lot of money.
Everything costs a lot of money.
But you’re gonna get way more bang for your buck than that $100,000 you spent on plastic surgery to look like Justin Bieber.  Sorry, I’m not quite over that yet.

I love what I do.
I really do.

Privates (not to be confused with penises)

stingy

Private clients are people who are financially successful enough (as well as lazy as all shit) to employ a massage therapist to come to their home for a session. I plan to become one some day.

The main difference between myself and the private clients I have both heard about and experienced is that I have no intention of being a cheap fuck.  None. When I am fortunate enough to be able to afford a personal massage therapist to come to my home, I will be grateful and generous and buy them candy (the good kind, not a Whitman’s Sampler or anything they sell in CVS).

In New York City you can expect to pay between $80 (which, for a gifted therapist, falls just short of robbery) to $225 (for the handful of greedy, egotistical therapists).

Until that time I will frequent massage venues that I can afford, or lap up the generosity of my exceptional-handed partner.  ‘Cause when you attempt to bargain for a cheaper price for the convenience and luxury of getting a massage in your god damn home, face it – you are now in the ‘I’m a gigantic ass’ category.

Question.  Do you bargain with your doctor or do you go to a health care provider that you can afford?

MJ & the c-word/Client stories

MjAxMy0wNGUwZjFjZTJiODUzNTE5It was an off week. 

The cunt was small, wiry and nervous. You know the type — control freak, never smiles, probably an executive or manager in finance or advertising and chronically constipated. She was with a male when I went to pick her up and she seemed annoyed when I introduced myself. She didn’t look at me when we shook hands. I asked her if she wanted a glass of water before the massage and she said yes then proceeded to pour it for herself. Okay. She wanted neck/shoulders, can take a lot of pressure, blah blah blah. I told her to get on the table face down, showed her where she could hang her clothes and left the room. She immediately called out and opened the door. She said she was pretty sure her appointments were all under her name and asked me to make sure her male companion was getting a massage. Sure. I got his name and left to check the schedule. He was on there and was getting picked up by a therapist. I came back to the room and she was still standing there in her robe. I assured her everything was fine and told her to get on the goddamn table. I start my massage and undraped her back and she is still wearing her fucking bikini top. It was the kind that had a bra around the chest and also tied behind the neck. I said it would be easier to work on her back if she unclasped it, which she did. How’s the pressure? (snooty)Fine. But when I went deep on her shoulders she squirmed and said OW! She was fidgety throughout. I turned her over and asked her if she wanted me to work on her neck. She said yes. I asked her if she could untie the bikini top so I could access her neck. She sighed, untied it, then threw the top onto the floor. I picked it up and hung it up then worked on her neck. Working on her hands, I noticed a wedding band. Someone wanted to spend the rest of their life with this piece of shit? I finished the massage with scalp work and she said “actually, I don’t like that.” Well, why the fuck did you say no when I asked if there were any areas you wanted to avoid or didn’t like work on ???  Annoyed, I asked her if I could work on her feet where, out of the goodness of my heart, I gave her a few extra minutes of resentful foot massage to make up for the time lost while I was out checking on her companion (cuz I’m an asshole like that). When I met her outside the room, she again refused to look at me and said thanks over her shoulder when she walked away. At least she was consistent.
Here’s what you do next time.
Take the stick out of her ass BEFORE she gets on the table. 
Then repeatedly beat her over the head with it. 
Works every time.
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(and a personal thanks to the super sweet client this therapist had in the same week to balance the scales a bit)!