Rarely do I ever treat myself to anything. Sure, a manicure or pedicure every now and then, but I never get facials or get my hair done often or get massages. So, when I noticed that a massage clinic called "Massage Envy" offers a $39 50-minute massage for first-timers, I was all over it. I signed up for a massage on Thursday night at 6 p.m. I arrived a bit early, so I was escorted into a dark room with leather coaches and a fish tank. Another man, probably in his late 20s, sat in a couch across from me. He appeared to be taking a snooze, so I carefully sat down in my leather seat, but it still made a little "squish" sound. He woke up abruptly and stared right at me and said, "hi." I said "hi" back and picked up my phone to pretend I was texting someone (so he wouldn't talk to me). Then he got an angry look on his face and said, "YOU WOKE ME UP." I gave him a weird smirk and thought about darting right there. He could have had a gun. But I kept my cool and kept playing games on my phone. He got called up for his massage, so I sat for another 10 minutes waiting for my lady to come get me.
Finalllyyy, a really cute girl came in, so I figured she was my masseuse. I was wrong. My masseuse was the gruff older woman behind her. The gruff woman didn't introduce herself. She just took my hand between hers and said, "I hear you have headaches. We'll take care of that real soon (insert thick Southern drawl here)."
Okay, so she claimed to be a miracle worker. I trusted her.
One thing I absolutely hate if I get massages is when someone talks to me while I'm getting massaged. I like to close my eyes and zone out. She did not feel that I needed to do so. So, she embarked on some small talk with me. I answered shortly so she would stop talking. She didn't.
She asked me where I was from. "Nebraska." She asked me if I got allergies in Texas. "No." Oh, she assured me I would get them. "No. I eat Texas honey for breakfast. I should be fine." Well, honey was the wrong topic to bring up. She was in fact a beekeeper. "Bees are cool," I said. She didn't like normal honey bees. She liked killer bees. In fact, she had a method to keep killer bees from killing her. "Yeah, I'd just plop down in a lawn chair if I saw them after me." Um...okay...yeah that's a dumb idea. "Well, see, then I'd be holding a button to activate an automatic sprinkler system. Wet killer bees can't fly."
This chick was weird, but she was giving a great massage. So I put up with her talking. That was until she asked me what I like to do for fun. "Um...well, I go to movies a lot. And I read quite a bit - "
That's when she cut me off. She, too, likes to read. She likes to read science fiction. But she also likes to read mystery novels. Not just any kind of mystery novels. Oh, no. She likes to read cat mystery novels. Novels where cats interact with people. Novels where cats go out and kill other cats and then there's a detective cat to solve the murder mystery. However, instead of telling me about the stories, she actually started doing CAT VOICES.
"...well, ol' Joe Grey stumbled down the alley and made his way to the murder scence. 'Well, folks, what happened here...meow."
She also described to me, in detail mind you, the names, sizes and breeds of every cat in the novel.
All of a sudden she stopped mid-cat voice and grabbed a muscle on my neck pretty hard. "You know, Jessica, if I pinch this hard enough, you will have a stroke."
I jolted out of bed and said, "Okay, I think I'm good. I'll get dressed now."
Next time, I'll pay the 40 extra bucks to get a normal person to do my massage thank you very much. Man there are some weirdos down here.