Rubdown

It seems that some of you dear readers need more blog. Like a cup of coffee in the morning or a smoke before bedtime, you now count on your daily dose of written orgasm to get you through another day. I am always here to satisfy your needs. To quote Greg Weiss, "It's hard to be clever everyday." Agreed. That doesn't mean I will stop writing. I just might not always have a joke to tell at the expense of someone else.
Yesterday was a great day in my life because I got a massage from my friend, Jack, who is a certified masseuse (what a great word, no?). Now, Jack is a petite man, fair and gentle, but goddamn his hands are magical! He is certified to teach yoga, and making eye contact with him is like looking at the face of baby Jesus. He's really incredible, and NO, I'm not in love with him, I just love what he does to my muscles. I drank a cup of chamomile before the massage and I swear I was floating through strawberry fields for a good hour and a half.
Not that it's all fun and games. Since I'm a runner and waiter, there's a lot of places on my body that were plenty tight and today I can still feel the effects of Jack's technique. My arms are sore like I was lifting weights and my lower back is going, "gee, maybe i should sit up straight more often..." Anyways, no pain no gain. Gotta take care of our bodies, and massage is so powerful and relaxing (and reasonably priced if you know the right people). So don't be a coconut. If you feel like life has beaten your spine into a wrinkled shadow of its former self, see a specialist, or ask me for Jack's number.