It Was the Best of Days, It Was the Worst of Days

I.

Yesterday was my first day back to school after two weeks off. It was supposed to be Monday, but I received a call in the afternoon saying that somebody's important somebody-or-other had passed away and they were cancelling all classes for the day out of respect. Problem was that we were supposed to be having two quizzes yesterday: one in phys and one in anatomy. I kept giggling to myself and thinking about how pissed my instructor was going to be about losing yet *another* 4 hours of class (we had Monday classes off for Memorial Day or something too at one point) and having us miss our quizzes, which would also mean rearranging our midterms and everything (one of which is this upcoming Monday).

Apparently karma struck back for all my giggling: We're having not just two quizzes on Monday but our midterm as well.

If you can explain how this is logical and "beneficial to the learning process," I will give you a quarter.



II.

Apparently I have a freakishly well-developed muscle in my forearm. I was told this by my instructor yesterday in class.

This would be super-cool, and I would walk around bare-knuckle- sucker-punching people in the throat with the sheer force of this sweet-ass muscle, *IF* it was so well-developed due to something cool, like a) my professional tennis career, b) my weekly professional arm-wrestling competitions, or c) excessive masturbation.

But you know how I developed it?

From spending too much time typing at work.

*Sobbing*



III.

I made someone fall asleep while I was massaging them--for the length of the *full* massage, complete with sleepy muscle-twitches (which I thought were "Holy fuck that hurts" twitches, but apparently I was wrong).

Only in massage therapy would making someone fall asleep be a compliment.



IV.

So, I buddied up with LR Man last night for Massage Class. I don't know why but he *keeps* asking me to be his partner, despite the fact that he has a tendency to act like my massage was completely ineffectual when all is said and done.

However, in all the times that we've buddied up, he's never actually made it around to giving me a back massage. Every single time I've massaged him, he's gotten one (since he always specifically requests that I spend time on his lower back due to back pain). And every single time, as I mentioned, he says something to the effect of "that was... {*long doubtful pause*} good... thanks" as though I could have just pummeled him with a large stinky salmon, and it would've been just as effectual. But last night, last night, I finally requested--nay DEMANDED--that he work on my back.

And as soon as he did, I had a total Last Massage Therapist Standing kind of moment--I wanted to run off to my little voting room and blurt to the camera "I'm definitely more massage therapier than... *gratuitous climactic pause* LR MAN!!!!!!" And then we'd battle it out on-stage, the audience choosing who is the more massage therapier and I would *SO* totally get picked as the Capital One Audience Favorite for the night. (Yes, I've been tuning in to Last Comic Standing way too much.)

Don't get me wrong--I will readily admit that I'm not "all that" yet when it comes to giving massages. But I will openly admit this to anyone who asks.

LR Man, however, critiques me as though he's been giving massages for hundreds of years and has received countless gold metals for his massage techniques. But in reality, his massage yesterday literally had me wanting to shudder and shout PLEASE DEAR GOD, JUST STOP TOUCHING ME!

You know how when a fly gets into your house, it flits about all haphazardly? How you stand there thinking to yourself, Where you going, fly? To that window? OH NO! You totally aren't--you had me fooled, you wiley fellow! Instead you just darted into the kitchen! And now you just made a quick, defensive left-right and zoomed upstairs! Brilliant! You know how you just wanna shout, Pick a direction and go with it already, you crazy fly-motherfucker? (I'm guessing I'm probably the only one who actually stands there and thinks all this--but bear with me.)

Fly = LR Man.

His hands were all over my back but in no specific rhythm or sequence. They would start heading towards the spine and then (what what!) dart insanely to the left for apparently no reason and then jam into my scapula and then thrust their burning lack of rhythm into the crook of my shoulder. It was sheer and utter madness.

And he utilized absolutely no massage technique. My cat piston-paws me just as effectively. Take a couple of wooden spoons (ala Ross on Friends) and start jamming away at somebody, and your "technique" would be about the same.

It was {NOT} {GOOD} {AT} {ALL}.

In fact, it hurt sometimes. And other times it felt like sweet sweet death. And yet other times, I felt like salami (for some reason).

I typically would not criticize a fellow student--we're all learning, and we're all in the same boat.

But HE TOTALLY DESERVES IT for his infinite "It was alrights" and "You could've done _____ a little bit harder" and "Oh baby yes baby yes!" (Ok, not the last one--my brain is just starting to get off-track.)

IT WAS ALRIGHT THIS, MOTHERFUCKER!

*trying to catch breath*

All that being said, I *did* also get the best massage I've had the pleasure of experiencing in class about two hours prior to Captain Bologna-Fingers' massage. The girl's hands were like butter, she pressed on some reflexology point in my big-toe that just made my body melt, and if I could've, I would've fallen asleep. Much much much better than the Man with Ten Sharks for Fingers.

Sincerely,
Woman Who Named One of Her Cat's Toys "Creepy Frog Man Bear" and Can't Stop Laughing Whenever She Refers to It as That
(aka. Sweet Lame-Ass McGee)