There's The Rub

Man is this late. I almost blew it off, but my dedication to you knows no bounds. "Wife" told me yesterday that some of these recent posts have lacked some zip. Maybe, but you try writing with a hangover on two hours of sleep. While I may be approaching old man status, I'm not Hemingway, even though a rum drink sounds good right about now. I'll try to jazz it up a little today, but I was up again until the wee hours and then did a radio appearance this morning. It was this afternoon that was exciting.

Last April we were in Vegas around my birthday. "Wife", being the thoughtful sort, gave me a certificate for a massage at the hotel where we were staying. Me, being the jackass sort, lost my mind. "Why the hell would I want a massage and what kind of gift is that?" I bellowed. To understand this reaction, you would have to have an advanced degree in abnormal psychology and be willing to sit for long periods of time with a lunatic who detests his birthday. "Wife" is neither, but after an appropriate period of atonement she forgave me. I never used the gift on that visit. I brought it on this trip however, and promised "Wife" that I would use it.

I'm not comfortable with the idea of a massage. Maybe I have the same body issues as a young Karen Carpenter with the difference being that I refuse to starve myself. I don't like to think of a stranger rubbing me for a fee. Well I do, but I don't think that's the kind of massage "Wife" was treating me to. I put myself in the massuese's mind set and picture myself having to oil up my hairy back. Not a pretty picture. My friends told me not to worry, I couldn't possibly be the worst the therapist had ever seen. Wow, thanks, now I feel better. Time to strip down. I had the choice of a man or woman for the massage. I picked a woman. I figured if I was uncomfortable with an oily rubdown anyway, why crank up the weirdness by having some dude in rubber clogs kneading me like his own private bread dough.

It was great. There was no mention of a "happy ending", which I think is a trick at the off strip massageatoriums, but I left happy and that's what matters. Billie didn't seem disgusted at all by my grizzly bear back, and even braided some of it for me. I'm sure she needs some rubbing after pushing my meaty frame around for an hour. Now I'm so relaxed I just want to lie down, but the showroom is calling so it's off to make with the yuks. I hope this was jazzed up enough for "Wife". If not, wait till she reads the one about my next massage. Have a great weekend. Later...Brian