Duck Gets Rubbed The Wrong Way!

Actually I got a neat present for my birthday last wednesday, MrsDuck signed me up for a one-hour massage at a local "spa" in town.

I wasn't sure what to make of it at first because it's one of them "poofy" places with lots of faux-painted beige walls and lots of bad pseudo-Japanese NewAge music coming out of the ceiling.

I sorta "scooted" in, looking like a teenage boy walking into a cigar store, pretty much feeling like I don't belong in here!...

Well the receptionist was very cool, she handed me a form to sign and a questionnaire. (If our massage therapist breaks you in half, you get to keep both halves...) Went through most of the questions and any possible ailments...

What is your stress level (1-low, 5-high)?

Already nervous I wrote "6".

What do you wish to accomplish by receiving a massage here at <spa>?

Hopefully to keep MrsDuck happy and that I haven't wasted her money, that's what!!!

Well, the massage therapist comes out, introduces herself to me, nicely explains the procedures ("...I'll leave the room and you can disrobe to where you feel comfortable, either naked, or with underwear or whatever, and I'll come back in a few minutes and knock on the door.")

She leaves,  I undress QUICKLY to my underwear in 2.4 seconds and HOP under the blanket in the event my therapist decides NOT to knock on the door for some unknown and implausible reason.

She asks what scented oil to use and when I ask to sniff them, I find out that they all pretty much smell the same. They mostly smell like Spot the Evil Cat had just jumped up on MrsDuck's bathroom counter and knocked over and broke every freaking perfume bottle in the place. They all smelled like something invented by either DuPont or Exxon, I don't know which...

First she works on me while I'm face down on a table, my head is supported by a padded ring.

She starts with the back, the shoulders, the lower back, the arms. She notices my neck is a bit tight. Then she does my legs and feet. So far so good.


However, on my back, she needs me to lie with my head on the table itself, not elevated like on a pillow. This is not natural for ol' Ducky here. The back of my neck is straining, and it's starting to hurt. She touches the left side of my neck...


She jumps back, "What's WRONG?!"

"I can't lay like this!"

She takes a few towels and props my head up and bit and indicates that:

This is NOT normal...

Geez. I'm here to relax, now I have a professional muscle-slapper here telling me I now have SOMETHING ELSE to worry about.

She tries working on my neck and by reflex I start gritting my teeth.

She says, " there a reason your neck won't turn this way?"

Wonderful, I'm feeling like I should be sent to the hospital immediately.

She then takes my right arm and pulls it above my head (directionally back towards her, pointed towards a wall). I hear a slight "pop" and...


She jumps back again, this time I thought she was going to run out of the room and call


"That's my MOUSE arm!!!!!!!!!!", as I grimace in pain…

It turns out that I spend about 12 hours a day either typing or moving a mouse with my right arm and my right shoulder is slightly more developed and bigger than my left shoulder. I just never have a reason to lift my right arm above my head. What am I gonna do, put my mouse pad on the ceiling?

"I think you need to see a physical therapist, it should be covered under your company health plan..."

Geez. I walk in to this place feeling somewhat "okay" about my health in general and now I'm worried to death that my muscles are going to tighten up, shrivel and DIE!!

She calms me down after some nice temple rubs and SLOW neck rubs.


The hour ends, she leaves the room, so I can get off the table, get dressed in 4.7 seconds and leave.

MrsDuck had it all pre-paid.

Okay, I feel a little more relaxed, a little more comfortable.

I step out the door and see...

A PARKING TICKET!!!!   I had the Aztek parked about 3 inches over the edge of the right yellow line in my parking space.  $15!

Grrrr....where's my baseball bat?!??

Now I'm tense.

Did I just waste my money?




Copyright 2003