You ever go to those foot massage places? You know the ones where they do the massage while your feet soak in a tub of bleach? I can hardly blame them for doing that by the way, who wants to touch someone’s disgusting feet without bleaching the hell out of ‘em first? I don’t wanna touch someone’s feet, period.

I’m not sure I wanna touch someone’s body unless it’s been bleached first.

Well my friend and I went the other day and… what? Yes, of course I have friends… what a stupid question to ask! Anyway, we went to one of those massage places on the boulevard because we needed some stress reduction, and since both of us are currently single, and not the types to pick up strange men in bars, this was our next best option. Actually, I shouldn’t say that; I really can’t vouch for my friend not being a slutty whore, I’m only assuming she isn’t. There is something about the way she dresses that screams “whore” though, now that I think about it.

Anyway I have mixed feelings about these places; on the one hand, you can’t beat the price, it’s the cheapest thrill in town (it’s the only thrill in town), but on the other hand, you have to tolerate the slightly annoying language barrier; I can’t understand a word anyone says. I try. I try to understand what they’re saying by using my best deciphering skills, but I only understand about 15%… maybe. When I called to make our appointment the owner answered the phone and I had to ask her several times to repeat herself. It was kinda my fault because I went too far; I asked for something specific, when really all I should’ve done was just state what time we wanted our massages. Instead, I asked for a female masseuse since I prefer being touched by a woman over a man.

Hmm, does that sound right?

It’s just that the men I’ve had in the past do it too hard.


Anyway, when she responded, I had to ask her to repeat herself, but I still couldn’t understand her, so I asked her to say it again and she did, but nope… nothing. So then I just pretended to understand her by responding with a “sure”, not being sure at all because I had no idea what I was agreeing to.

Have you ever done that? Pretended to understand what someone was saying, just so you could slowly back yourself out of the awkwardness of the situation? Well that’s what I attempted to do, but noooo… she wouldn’t let me off the hook, the pushy broad. She asked me if I understood what she had just said, and the only reason I understood that part, was because she only used two words: you understand? No, I’m not asking you if you understand, those were the two words she used that I understood. Understand?

Anyway, I gave up and admitted that no, I could not understand her, and then she got really aggressive with me. Yeah, it was amazing! In her irritation and broken English, I got the sense she could bust some serious balls. You don’t have to speak a foreign language to know when someone’s a ball breaker! Admittedly, I got a little scared. I don’t know why, it’s not like I have balls or anything.

When we arrived, all the masseuseseses… ahem, practitioners… were busy, so guess who ended up being my masseuse? Yep, The ball-breaker. She was really nice to me though, which totally threw me off, because when someone’s really nice just after being really irritated, they come off a little crazy, know what I mean? I kept waiting for her to challenge me to a sword fight, which is something I certainly wouldn’t be prepared for, she probably has a huge sword!

I told her I like it really soft… you know, the massage… so when she first started to do it, it felt great, but then out of nowhere, she started digging her fingers deep into my flesh, twisting and turning, so I said “Whoa, Siamese Samurai, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” She leaned into my face, flexed her bicep and touched her muscle, then muttered something about being too strong to do soft massage. At least, that’s what I thought she said. So I told the bone-crusher I needed to have another masseuse because I wouldn’t be able to walk out of there alive if she kept at it. Since no women were available, I ended up getting a male masseuse, and you know what? He was really good. He didn’t do it too hard and he didn’t smell, so I dunno, maybe I need to rethink that whole woman thing.

Published by Clever Girl

Intrepid writer, reader and comedian.

8 thoughts on “What?

  1. I used to work for Chinese-American bank. All of the support staff were English as a Second Language (ESL). I could understand very few of them.

    I felt embarrassed with my inability to understand my co-workers. I asked the ones that I could understand the least to contact me by intra-company email. There! Problem solved!

    What I found was that it wasn’t just pronunciation problems.It was syntax problems too. Different languages bundle words in ways that make no sense often when translated literally into another language.

    Anyway, I am glad that you got your man!


  2. Once, when I was a teenager and on my way to a girl’s house to “study,” I stopped at a convenience store to buy condoms. They were behind the counter, and there was an oriental woman working. I quietly asked for a box of condoms, and she loudly replied, “What? What are condoms?” I quickly exited the store.


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