Sara Raasch's Blog, page 533

Massage Post of SHAME

Every few months, I forget that I hate getting massages, and I think “I’ve been really stressed lately, and my shoulders are kind of sore — maybe I should give it another go.” I schedule said massage session at a different place (undoubtedly remembering from my previous experiences that I didn’t have a pleasant time at whatever place I went to last, so hey, maybe this new place will be better?).

So I go to said massage session, bright-eyed and rearin’ for some relaxin’. The first thing that always happens (always. ALWAYS. I’ve been to a handful of different massage places since I moved to SLC, and they all do this. The act in and of itself isn’t a bad thing, and actually, if it was followed through, would be a very very GOOD thing, but it would appear that this first step is only to lure patrons into a false sense of relaxation): I’m given a form to fill out. Name, address, email, etc etc — along with a handful of questions that, to me, are CRUCIALLY IMPORTANT, such as:

1) What type of massage do your prefer? Light, Medium, or Hard?

2) Are there any areas we should avoid?

Now, I am the world’s most ticklish person. So ticklish, in fact, that I even hate the word ticklish — it is a far too chipper and cheery word for an experience that is more akin to all of the muscles in said area of my body being taken from calm, normal muscular activities into a roaring, raging chaotic meltdown that I liken to being a less pleasurable experience than getting repeatedly poked by a flaming-red iron barb. But as I said, the word “ticklish” does not properly encompass the sheer amount of pain that comes along with being tickled, and so when I tell masseuses that I am ticklish here, here, here, and especially here and here, so please avoid those places, they inevitably respond with:

"Actually, being ticklish in certain areas is a sign that those muscles need extra attention, so I’m going to focus on here, here, here, and especially here and here. And I see you also marked that you prefer "light" massages, but actually, preferring light massages is also a sign that your muscles need extra attention, so I’m going to go a little deeper."

To which my reaction is usually an open-mouthed, wide-eyed, breathless gaping, because last I checked, getting a massage was supposed to be RELAXING, and I have twenty-four years of experience that tell me that being touched anywhere near any of my ticklish areas is a wholly miserable experience. But hey, this is a professional massage person, so surely they know what they’re talking about. 

Famous last words.

So even while my instinct is screaming to run far, far away from the impending torture, I end up on the table in a dark, cozy room listening to a Zen waterfall CD that’s been on repeat for god-knows-how-long, while some supposed-professional masseuse person is surely grinning a maniacal, psychotic smirk over their soon-to-be writhing-in-pain victim, but of course I can’t see that, because my face is smooshed in that padded circle thing on the table, and before I can give in to my better judgment and make all haste out of there, the torture begins. Oh, does it ever begin.

But I power through it, 1) because maybe, just maybe, my muscles will feel better after all this because I’m still holding out hope that this person is a professional and 2) I take this as an opportunity to prove that I am the master of my own body a la some badass assassin who will never ever give in to her torturers no matter what lengths they use and OH MY GOD IS THAT YOUR ELBOW OKAY OKAY I GIVE IN I’LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT TO KNOW JUST FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP TOUCHING ME YOU SADIST. 

I write this post now to remind myself in a few months when I invariably decide that my shoulders hurt and hey, maybe this other massage parlor will be better, that all massage parlors are psychotic. I swear, I KNOW massaging used to be relaxing, and sometime in the last ten years it’s become all about “muscular rejuvenation.” Well, Crazy Massage Liar Who Lets Me Fill Out That Form Then Promptly Ignores It, I paid $100+ (WHY SO EXPENSIVE) to be RELAXED, not TORTURED, and I hope you enjoyed that mindless babbling I spewed at you as an effort to give you the information you wanted, because surely only people who want to know where I hid the flash-drive I stole from that Top Secret government base that one time would ever hurt me like that. 

For shame, massage people. FOR SHAME.

Drafting

title2come:

Accurate.

@reneecollins_ RELIC signing at The King’s English last...

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alexisbasswrites:The Corgis are frolicking.HAPPINESS.

alexisbasswrites:

The Corgis are frolicking.

HAPPINESS.

alexbracken:fuckyeahstarzoutlander:BREAKING AND EXCITING...

alexbracken:

fuckyeahstarzoutlander:

BREAKING AND EXCITING NEWS!

Claire will be played by Caitriona Balfe!

She looks perfect to me!

Yay!!!!!! Now let’s get this show on the road…

Weeeee!!

Prepare for SNOW...

…in ONE WEEK!

The SNOW LIKE ASHES Join the Blizzard Giveaway starts NEXT WEDNESDAY, September 18. Check back for a chance to win more than $50 in Autumn goodies PLUS your piece of the SLA blizzard!

My drafting face.

The Official Trailer for Not A Drop to Drink

mindymcginnis:

Here’s the official trailer for Not A Drop to Drink! Designed by Jennie Bates Bozic. Music by Jack Korbel. 

Squeeeeee

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kathrynroseksk:

laptop-batteries-are-not-long:

sterekfeelz:

waysofalady:

fuckthis—imgoingsailing:

Cats after being sedated at the vet

This made my whole day.

REFUCKING BLOG OH MY SNSJSKSKSMSNANAETLYL

OH MU GO OH MY GOD OHBMYD GOD OH MYD GOD

heeheehee

My phone autocorrects “hun” (like abbreviated “honey” or in some cases Mulan...

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