A Decade of Rubdowns

It’s Labor Day today, so I guess this is a good time to talk about my job. This month marks 10 years of me massaging bodies. The milestone is sweet, but sometimes I ask myself, how did I survive this? How in the hell I survived ten years working my body to work on bodies (professionally, of course)? This is a physical job, y’know. Thank my instructor for teaching me and my class proper body mechanics, as well as my lucky stars for not getting horribly injured in any way (knock on wood) and having a growing private practice where I make all the moneys for mahself so I don’t have to work so much.

I accepted my very first massage job in September 2011, three months after I graduated from massage school. And I left it six months after I started because I quickly learned that two-faced behavior also exists in the spa industry. How and why I dealt with that shit for six months is beyond me. It’s OK, though–that spa closed up for good a couple years after I left.

Insincere ingrates is just one of the many, many, many things I’ve dealt with in my decade of massage.  I’ve worked with catty therapists. Diva therapists. (They’re the ones who must have everything they want at work, like reserve the same room in a spa every time and set the thermostat at their preferred temperature, even if others find it too hot or cold.) Therapists who no-show for their appointments (and get fired after). Therapists who are addicted to their phones to where they’ll have one hand on the client and their phone in the other. I know this from doing couples’ massages with them. (Look at your therapist once in a while during the session, clients.) Therapists who are total new age ninnys and swear by crystals and essential oils for healing while ignoring science. (Sound familiar?) Therapists who happen to be sane. Therapists who become long-time friends of mine.

And then there are the clients. I lost track of how many I’ve taken care during my career, but there are a few client stories worth sharing:

–I’ve told this story to friends in the past, but it was five years ago that I took care of this one lady whose dumper was an obvious fake. The girl was built like a cartoon character–slim elsewhere and her ass sticking out there. Fittingly, she needed focus on her low back/upper glutes, and to massage her fake ass felt weird, like I was gliding on something obviously man-made. Saline? Silicone? Water balloon? I hope women these days still aren’t getting ridiculous ass implants in an attempt to look like a substance-exempt reality show ho, because that was a trend that should’ve died in the 2010s, never to be resurrected again.

–Years ago, one client had the nerve to say (in a review left to my then-boss) I was “the worst therapist” they had ever had. Funny that she says that and also referred her IT band (which she wanted focus on during the session) as her “PT” band. Mind you, what I did with her was no different that the service I’ve given to my other clients. She was a Karen before the term existed. As for me, I joked to my co-workers about me being the worst-ever therapist. Laugh to do away with stupid criticism.

–There were creeps. Oh, there were creeps. Creeps are the bastards who want to rub one off under the sheets, come onto you, or ask you about happy endings. I can count on one hand how many pricks had the nerve to harass me, but, ideally, I shouldn’t have to count as there shouldn’t have been any in the first place. I’ve been taught how to deal with a creep fuck back in massage school, but you never know when they’ll strike. I’ve had to stop the massage immediately when those creeps got out of hand, and I’ve gotten them banned from my places of work. The last incident happened over three years ago, and I hope the streak does not break.

–On a more lighthearted note, I’ve also taken care of a few famous clients. I had one Super Bowl winner who never tipped but at least I got his autograph. I know, still crappy. Maybe I should sell the autograph to make up for the tip I never got. I also massaged a prominent name in the cosmetics industry. She’s the founder of a makeup brand that’s only sold at Sephora, hint hint. That woman gave me some of her products in addition to a tip. Yaaaassss.

I currently have my own private practice and also work for a mobile massage company. I’ve massaged in gated, fancy McMansions with elevators inside and million-dollar views outside. I’ve also massaged in budget motel rooms where I had to lug my table up a couple flights of stairs because no elevator (see, I told you this job is physical!) and set up in a cramped space. My two jobs pay far more than what spas and massage clinics used to pay me, and my clientele for the most part have been great and compliant with my needs. That said, will I still be massaging bodies ten years from now? Ideally, I would prefer to write about my times in massage while getting my feet rubbed by a shirtless hottie as opposed to still living them out, but we’ll see.

I shall celebrate this milestone by using this amazing device on my shoulders before hitting the hay. I had a busy weekend. (Side note: the Theracane rules. Get yourself one if you have busted shoulders like I do.)

Hump Day Feast

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Shoutout to Rancho Grande Taqueria in Pleasanton for the Cinco de Mayo feast-for-one, and for the Groupon deal that nabbed me $30 worth of food for half-off. Of course, I spent more than $30, but if you saw their menu you’d understand! If you’re wondering what’s about to fatten my ass today, I gots me the following: Torta Sammich with Al Pastor filling (top left), freshly-made chips (middle in bag), Carne Asada plate with the works and some tortilla wraps (right), and (bottom left) CHURROS!!! No, I will not eat all of this in one sitting (I will be having the Torta in a few minutes, though), and, hell naw I am not having my churros with salsa verde. Because, like St. Patrick’s Day, the best way to celebrate Cinco de Mayo is through food (and drinking) and not learning shit about its history, right?

Highs, Lows, Donuts, and Bunnies

Yours trampy had an eventful Saturday. I had my second bout of vehicle fuckery in a month. This time, it involved  my car battery. Yes, it had to go out while I was working; luckily, I finished up one batch of my deliveries before my car decided to add more crap to my continuously-growing pile of personal misery. After a jumpstart from the tow person and driving 30 minutes with the resurrected battery, I took it to my car-fixing friend. He suggested that I get a new battery, and that he would also install it. I was given some time off from work to fix the car, with the option of calling out the whole day in case my car became inoperable. In one hour, I drove from friend’s house to Costco to buy that car battery, drive back to friend’s house for installation (which took just 30 minutes), get disgusted upon finding that a now-dead rat crawled into the battery space and left rat shit in there (no wonder my battery was performing like shit), then returned to Costco to dispose of the old, rat shit-stained battery and get $15 from recycling it (oh, those workers don’t know what that old battery has seen), and *catches breath* made a quick run to the food court to get me a chicken bake before returning to work.

I work this Easter. I get double pay today and my work day will be short, but I hope it’s back to boring times with the car. No mo’ drama with my chariot, man.

One of my treats for today (that I was able to nab when I saw them) will be Easter-themed mini donuts from Krispy Kreme. One of the donuts I got is this:

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I’m gonna scarf down rabbit ass today! Then, after pissing off the waistband of my jeans again from a baked ham and cheesy potato casserole Easter dinner, I’ll cuddle up to my “Bunny” Snoopy plushie…

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I know what you’re thinking. It’s how genius I am to pay just a dollar for a bunny ears headband I got at Dollar Tree and putting it on my winter-themed Snoopy, which is better than me spending $18 for a Easter-themed Snoopy at TJ Maxx that I’ll only bring out once a year. At least keeping winter Snoopy for a little longer gives it more than one purpose!

Happy Easter and Happy “Friday” to me!

Luck Of My Tummy

It’s Hump Day, and it’s also St. Patrick’s Day. I’m not a tenth Irish, but I’m sure I slept with someone of Irish descent in the past. So how did I celebrate this day? With the best thing to celebrate a holiday (besides gifts): FOOD! In this case, most of it homemade.

I planned on making a St. Patty’s Day feast for one. Bought my corned beef, the veggies to cook with the corned beef…and that was it. I didn’t need to have the whole she-bang and get other foods like Irish Bangers and stuff to make Shepherd’s Pie. But it was only until late last night after all the grocery stores closed did I realize two things: I also wanted Irish soda bread, and I found out that Krispy Kreme was giving away free green donuts to anyone wearing green. Wednesdays are usually stay-at-home days for me, but I was not going to pass up the offer of getting me a free green donut!

First, though, the Irish soda bread. I saw it going for $4 at Trader Joe’s, and I initially kicked myself for not buying it yesterday. Then I saw a recipe for it. *gasp* I have all those ingredients! I can make it at home! Four bucks saved! And, best of all, it’s a simple dump-and-stir-and-knead recipe. (I get bummed when I see a recipe that requires a stand-alone mixer, as I don’t have one of those things.) Making dat bread was the first thing I did after getting out of bed this morning.

The before pic of the dough…

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And after! This was also my first time making Irish soda bread, and I’m quite impressed with how it turned out.

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Butter this hot slice up! 

Lunch was corned beef with the fixins. Making corned beef was another first for me, unless you count the many times I cooked this version of corned beef in the past. (Hey, that’s some good shit. Still can’t stand the way to open the can, though.) No online recipe this time–I just followed the package instructions. The meat turned out fine, but, in a first for me, a large, warm, juicy, light pink slab didn’t look appealing to me. I wanted to brown that baby. A few minutes of searing it plus some extra salt and pepper and it was lookin’ good (to go in my stomach).

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My St. Patty’s Day bowl! I actually had more bread than pictured (duh). If you’re wondering where the Guinness is at, I worked out before this meal, and I don’t drink alcohol after a workout. That’s how I roll. Plus, I don’t have any Guinness at home.

About those green donuts: I got my freebie! It pays to have some green-colored clothes. I also bought a few more, and the server was nice enough to throw in a free cinnamon sugar donut when they ran out of cake batter donuts. That’s two free donuts!

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Forget recycling and reusing bags–this is THE way to go green! I also like how the frosting of the bottom left donut makes it look marbled. That work of donut art is currently being processed by my digestive system as I type.

Happy International Women’s Day

I’m late on this, but I’m doing laundry and cleaning right now. Would’ve done all that yesterday, but my work schedule ran me ragged–for the second Sunday in a row, I should add. No more lazy Mondays for me again. Boooo.

Also, for those who like to know more about the history of IWD, check out this informative article on Vox.

Because The Way To My Heart Is Through My Stomach

CHOCOLATES!!

It’s that day of love and buying heart-shaped unnecessary shit for your significant other. For me, it’s just another day of work (my Friday, actually), and after work, I’ll be going on a date with that tasty honey above. (Thank you, Macy’s, for selling that shizz and I’m not surprised it’s sold out now.) So I’m not having sapphic times with my boo on Valentine’s night, but devouring a sampler box of finely-made toffee and caramels while watching the same old episodes of The Office and daydreaming about smashing Jim Halpert (yes, he’s hot to me) is the next best thing! Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! 

 

Happy MLK Day

I should have mentioned this last year, but shout-out to my Fourth grade elementary teacher for not only being one of my favorite teachers, but emphasizing MLK Day to us kiddos. She taught us more about MLK than what our history books then told us. Although her having the class recite his “I Have A Dream” speech to our whole school (she broke us up into groups and each group recited a certain part) was kind of nerve-wrecking. I was afraid of messing up my lines.

Anyway, in addition to these things that you can do to celebrate the legacy of Dr. King today, give his “Letter From Birmingham Jail” a read. It means a lot more today. And this tune, that my favorite local jazz station played yesterday while honoring MLK Day, makes for good reading music.

Also, I cannot be the only one bothered by that capital “T” in can’t in the quote pic.

**Update 10:44PM: Yes, I edited out and added some stuff here. I had to.