It’s plausible that I accidentally did something one wouldn’t expect to accidentally do.

Honestly, perhaps “possible” would be a better word. Or even “probable”. Yeah, probable.

It is probable that I inadvertently went to a sex worker.

I’m trying to think of a way to tell y’all about 3 things that happened, starting with me completely not understanding my surroundings and ending up with getting stabbed by a very happy, stabbing person.

I guess it starts with my fucked up back. I have had neck and back issues most of my life. I fell out of a tree when I was 12, hit my head and had an untreated whiplash injury.

Before the apocalypse, I got a massage on a fairly regular basis. But then 2020 rolled around and everything changed.

I decided a few months ago that it was time to get a massage and after much thought, settled on just finding a place close to where I work and book a massage at lunch time. So I googled “massage near me”. There was a place 1.9 miles from my office, so I booked a 60 minute massage with Carmela.

There were red flags. I mean, right from the start. And, I was oblivious to all of them.

By the way, I even wrote about this massage, but I was less than forthcoming with you all about the nature of that massage. I mean, I didn’t lie or anything, but I left out a lot of shit.

Anyway, the place sat in a little strip mall, up behind the Speedway convenience store.

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The mirrored storefront meant you couldn’t see in. Also, the door was locked.

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Carmela unlocked the door and invited me in.

There was no receptionist or anything. I realized, by the set up, that it was like a hair dresser that I used to go to who rented a room alongside a bunch of other individually rented rooms. Only for massages instead of haircuts. Carmela took my jacket, purse, and gave me a full body hug. She had a little dress on and no shoes. Lots of toe rings.

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Then, there was the actual massage. Her technique had way too light of a touch and she talked about Jesus the whole time. She got dangerously close to areas I truly did not want to have massaged. I had to keep repositioning myself to block. Nope. No! What the what? No no no no nope. No. 

It was like being around Randy, after he’s had 3 drinks, and I’m trying to wash dishes or something.

flag FLAG FLAG FLAG FLAG (at this point, I swear, I still did not get what was likely happening. I just thought she was very bad at her job).

So, the massage finally ends, which was awesome, because I was not at all relaxed.

When I paid, I noticed her shoulders and arms were covered in glitter. And I thought. Well, that’s odd. I tipped her 20%.

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I called Randy and complained about my abysmal massage. I didn’t get too far into the story before he was laughing his ass off.

Randy: Sweetheart. That was a sex worker

Me: No. Silly. I told you. I googled “massage near me”. This is a massage place. I mean, a weird one.

Randy: When she was close to feeling you up, she just wanted to see your reaction, so you know, you could order something that wasn’t on the menu.

Me:…

Me:…

Me: Nah. No way.

Randy: Hold on, I have to catch my breath.

Me: She was covered in glitter.

Then, Randy hung up, because I was going to give him a heart attack, he was laughing so hard.

So anyway, I think I accidentally went to a sex worker. Which is kind of cool. I mean, it wasn’t on my bucket list or anything, but still.

Obviously, a make up massage was in order. I purchased a Groupon and booked a massage at a massage chain. Where everyone wears shoes.

My massage dude looked like Steve from Stranger Things, which is now my name for him.

Stranger Things is amazing. After an hour with Stranger Things, my back felt better than it had in months. He talked a lot like Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High and said things like “My dude, your muscles are so tense.” 

He, like Carmela, also liked to talk, but the conversation was a lot more interesting. Not so Jesus-y. We talked about how fucked up the muscles in my back are. We talked about cartoons from the nineties, specifically Courage, The Cowardly Dog and Fairly Odd Parents. We discussed how one would go about making their own ketchup. We decided it would be best to just keep buying pre-made ketchup.

I decided massage was not enough. I needed physical therapy or something.

I had gone through multiple rounds of muscle relaxers and anti-inflammatory drugs. That was terrible. The anti-inflammatory drugs made me super sick to my stomach. The muscle relaxers turned me into a drooling idiot, which makes my job programming computers super difficult. Whispers about surgery were happening and I want no goddamn part of that. Nope. I don’t know any single person who has had back surgery and felt their life improved. I am not saying it doesn’t happen. I’m saying, in my experience, it doesn’t seem to happen often. I am willing to try just about anything to avoid that scene.

Apparently, this includes woo woo stuff.

My doctor referred me to a physical therapy place and that is where I met Connie Chung. My therapist is actually named Connie Chung.

After an initial exam, she suggested trying dry needling, which is basically acupuncture with extra science.

I’ve had two sessions and I have to say, I am now a “woo woo” convert. The dry needling relieved a fuck ton of my back pain. Also, I have the bonus of being treated by Connie Chung, who is fucking hilarious.

I had my second session at 7:00 AM. I live about 35 minutes away, which meant a super early start. I get there and Connie Chung did a literal happy dance. She said “I get to go to Costco tonight!”

I knew, in that moment, this would be an amazing session.

Before I forget, let me tell you this part, it’s not really funny or anything. Connie Chung explained as she was inserting needles into my back that you have to take care as to not damage the lungs. How fucking deep are these needles going? Damn. Also, that’s what she said.

Anyway, we talked about passion and my morning got much better than I could have hoped. Not only was getting dozens of needles inserted into my muscles making me feel better, but I was about to laugh more than I have in a good goddamn minute.

We talked about passion, not only ours, but how rewarding it can be to watch others realize their passion.

Connie Chung: My passion is stabbing people. I just want to stab people all day long.

Me: haha

Connie Chung: Seriously, sometimes I go home and my feet are so tired that my husband has to rub my feet, but I don’t care because I just want to stab people as much as I can.

Connie Chung: I love stabbing people.

Connie Chung: My husband is a very wealthy man. He told me, Connie retire, stop stabbing people, and we will travel the world and I said no. I have to keep stabbing people.

I’m trying to control myself. I’m literally terrified because I’m laughing so hard that Connie Chung will accidentally pierce my lung or something.

I can’t imagine a better physical therapy session. Not only is laughing the best thing ever, but my back felt great. I also felt like I was wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket. I don’t know if it’s all in my head or not. I don’t care. I just know I felt better. And I also know Connie Chung loves stabbing.

I have two more sessions scheduled. One on Tuesday and one the Monday after Thanksgiving. After that, I get to see Stranger Things again. I feel like everything is coming up roses for me and my back.

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday with lump free gravy and pies that taste as though they were made by baby angels riding on unicorns. And I hope all your endings are happy.

Image by Siew Ling Chow from Pixabay