Category Archives: Massage therapy

Melanie’s Pervert Policy

Okay, so I’m a massage therapist with my own practice and few days ago an old man exposed his withered manjigglies to me.  I’m not embellishing when I say that my stomach contents rose up to touch my tonsils.  I became worried that once the vomit passed my tonsil threshold, it will land on his own two dangling tonsils that lay between his legs under a flap of flab.

He came in bearing his own washcloth from home.

Dirty old man – “I have restless leg syndrome so I can’t have anything on my legs.”

Me – “Huh….”

Dirty old man – “I brought my own towel for draping.”

He had a folded washcloth in his lap.

Me – “How big is it?” (I meant the washcloth)

Him – “Well, I brought two different sizes in case you’re not comfortable with this one.”

Me – “Do you wear underwear?”

Him – “No.”

I told him there’s no way I’m going to massage him using only a towel for a barrier, and he clearly got upset but wanted the massage anyway.  It was during the massage when he exposed himself.  It’s horribly disrespectful and annoying.  It’s more annoying than anything to deal with someone like that.

I had a cancelation in work today, so I made a few improvements to my business’ webpage.  I added a few new pages, one being a Pervert Policy.  I don’t care if it’s not professional.  I don’t give a shit quite honestly.  I’m someone with little patience and can get quite aggravated and snarky – actually making fun of these people to their faces.  This is something that I have to NOT do.  I must avoid bringing this frustrated Melanie to life.

Here’s what my Pervert Policy looks like on my business site:


me and mom

See that?  That’s a picture of me with my Mother when I was a wee little lass.  Aren’t I cute?  If you look close enough, you can see that I’m actually somebody’s daughter.

I’m also somebody’s kid sister.

me and fran

Please keep that in mind if your intensions are not pure and you’re planning on taking advantage of this wee little runt.

Pervert Policy #1 – I will NOT answer calls from blocked phone numbers.  You can leave me a message with your name and number so I can call you back.  This is my first line of defense since perv’s typically don’t leave numbers.

Pervert Policy #2 – If you do get me on the phone, questions about draping is a RED FLAG that you are a perv.  I don’t and will NEVER drape using towels.  I use sheets and only sheets.  Haranguing me about this only amplifies your pervertedness and you will get hit with snarky remarks because I can do that.  I’m the business owner.  Also asking me what kind of lotions or oils I use, I found to be an indicator of perversion also .  Why this is?  I have no idea.

Pervert Policy #3 – I can refuse service to ANYONE at any time before or during the massage without giving an explanation.  If you want an explanation, please refer to my Pervert Policy.

These policies are enacted as a way to preserve the sweet innocence of the child pictured above and below.

cute lil me

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, rant, Strange & Unusual

Rumpled Crumpled Smelly Ol’ Me


I’m gross, really I am.  I stopped blowdrying and straightening my hair for at least a month now, I don’t put any product in it.  I look like the unkempt little girl I was at 12, playing obstacle course with boys like in American Gladiators and running around the backyard with bb guns and our faces painted in camouflage.

I wear no makeup, wear the same clothes every day and I haven’t washed my World of Warcraft hoodie in like, EVER.  I wear it every day.

My mothers been using a lot of fried peppers in food lately, I wipe my greasy mouth on my sleeve.

A nice man all decked out wearing a fine suit always says Hello when he passes me – he says hello to me and as soon as he walks away, I dig my pinkie into my ear.

I have the feeling he has a crush on me – really man?  Come on now, furrealz?

So yeah, I’m gross.  I’m not proud of it, okay?  I go out in public like this!  I go to bars, restaurants, the mall – I don’t give a shit.  That’s the problem, I can’t make myself care.  I never cared.  It’s like having one  more thing to worry about, one more thing to occupy my brain – and we all know I don’t need anything else in there.

With all my life experiences, all the jobs I had, people lost, friends gained, places visited – Everything I learned throughout these 33 years takes me back to feeling like a kid all over again.

To love, to be loved, and having fun are all that’s important to me and it makes me feel like that little girl playing kickball with the boys and having a play wrestle fight.  It’s always for play until the older kids start betting on us.

My favorite activity is going to the food court in the Meriden mall and ordering orange flavored chicken from Panda Express, then buying a video game at Game Stop and I go home to play and eat for the remainder of the day.  To play, to eat, to not have to think or do or be.  It’s spectacular.

Panda Express

Panda Express (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A husband and kids?  Me?  I just don’t see it happening, I really don’t.

It’s Sunday and I’m waiting for my first client to arrive.  I’ll be massaging for 6.5 hours today.  I don’t wanna, no I don’t wanna.  Anything over 4, I get moody and work starts to feel like work.

First 3 clients done.  This is killing your poor old Mel.  5 days straight it’s been like this, and the week before that I massaged about 30 people if not more.  I’m so tired.  Yesterday I had an hour break in-between clients due to a cancellation.  I laid down on my massage table, rested my head on a pillow, and listened to my guided meditation tape.

Laying on my massage table with the ambient lights and table warmer may just be my new favorite activity.  Nothing beats it.  When you’re as worn out as I am, it’s absolute heaven.  I fell asleep within 5 minutes and kept waking myself up by either snoring or not breathing.

My forth client is here filling out paperwork.  Hey look at me, I’m typing and looking busy!  Yeah I’m one busy bitch.  One wacky crazy zany bitch.

Fourth client done.

Fifth one here filling out paperwork.  We are talking about the weather.  I’m able to type and talk about the weather.  Can you do that?  Pfff….what – EV.

Fifth client done.  I’m faded completely.  That last lady was moaning during her massage.  I’m learning to ignore these things, moaners make me anxious.

I’m scarfing down a bowl of rice before my last client gets here in 8 to 12 minutes.  Again with the salad dressing….Really Mel?  On rice?

Anything tastes good right now.  I’m famished.

Ahh yes finished with rice, now to sit and relax.


Vape on my electronic cigarette – wow it doesn’t take much to make me happy.  Take your time last client, no rush.  You don’t even need to come in!  Please don’t come in oh please oh please don’t come in.

If he was paying full price I would want him in here, but he’s just another groupon client.

Damn that rice and salad dressing…..  My stomach’s making weird sounds.  I need to go to the pee palace.  Damn he’s here.

Okay, I’m okay.  It’s 10am the next day.  My last massage yesterday was brutal.  It was 90 minutes of exhaustion and having to poop.  Do you know what that’s like?  Well, I won’t be the one to tell you.  Use your imagination.

I’m crabby today.  I have to give a massage at the spa down the street – that’s why I’m crabby.  It’s my day off!  I don’t know how to politely end his Monday massages.  I’m such a coward.  I feel like once my business slows down, I won’t mind giving him massages on my day off, but that’s only fear talking.  Fear telling me that I still need a second job.  I’m not trusting myself – thinking that my business will fail so I need a backup.  And as it happens with all fear-based choices, misery follows.

I can’t get angry at anyone but myself.

I tried once talking my way out of it, but he didn’t get it.  I wasn’t being clear or brave enough.  It’s such a tricky situation, it really is.  Next time I go out to eat with my co-worker, I’ll ask her what I should do.  She seems to always have good advice.  She’s really smart.

I’m still tired.  I’m going to eat breakfast and go back to sleep.

I need to start reading more, so I’ll put my blog on hold for a while.  I mean it this time.  At least a few weeks to devote myself to reading and finishing up with my groupon clients.

Damn, my cell is starting to ring with clients.  On top of massaging 40 clients a week, I have to answer emails, calls, texts…it taken me a good half hour calling back only three clients yesterday!  Each of them keeping me on the phone for 10 minutes.  30 minutes gone.

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Filed under All about me, humor, journal, Massage therapy, random thoughts, Self help

Income In go

Rock-paper-scissors chart

Rock-paper-scissors chart (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My sickness is almost gone.  All that’s left is loud wet coughs and a headache.

I have two full paying clients today, so I’ll make at least $140.  Not bad, I’ll take it!

I would be 100% worry free today if it weren’t for the looming tax season approaching.  I’m going to owe nearly half of what I made so far (the checks, the credit cards and the whopping Groupon check all have to be accounted for).  It’s so bizarre because I’ve never made this much money before, it keeps rolling in steadily, but when I look at it in a negative perspective (Amy’s perspective), it still seems like I’m broke.

I made $17 a massage from Groupon, after taxes that leaves me with $10, then factor in business expenses – I’ll be lucky if I break even.  I’m relying solely on cash income and tips – everything else belongs to the feds.  From this perspective, it makes my little massage business look doomed to fail.  And all this time I’ve been doped up living in a fantasy world of enchantment and happy endings (bad use of words).  I’m not living in the real world.

But I’m making $140 today, I am getting repeat business and my monthly expenses are relatively low.  So there’s always more than one way to view something, right?  They are such contradicting views, one being hopeful and promising while the other is the rock that smashes my scissors. It really does feel like a game of rock, paper, scissors battling it out in my empty head.   Amy is the rock…The rock of Gibraltar.  And I am the dull set of elementary school lefty scissors with kindergardener paste caked in making them impossible to open and close properly.  Yes, that’s me.  Old useless dull scissors that couldn’t cut a finger if she tried.

When all said and done, I am vaguely responsible and reasonable.  I barely spend a dime on myself and everything is fed back into my biz.  But sometime, not all the time, but some time I revert back to my fairyland of having substantial income and abundance and splurge ever so slightly.  Like for instance, letting a telemarketer talk me into accepting my “free” cruise to the Bahama’s, or spending $80 on stupid T-shirts.

bustedtees.8fd84bed-096a-4a6f-8a56-56e508f2Come on now, that’s funny.  (click the pic to buy your own.)

I also splurged on a World of Warcraft hoodie because in my heart, I’m still Iris the Blood Elf paladin – the most annoying unkillable PVP player you’ll ever regret messing with.

World of warcraft hoodieIt was the thumbholes that sold me.

world of warcraft hoodie

I should be getting it tomorrow – yay!

And I have no regrets about lending my buddy cash, no regrets about any of my purchases.  I’m once again slipping into the fairytale world of abundance.  It feels so real!  Like, poltergeist in my bed real!  I’m over 100 days into my Groupon venture and I’m only $3,500 short of what they gave me.  I bought a macbook, paid rent, paid an obscene amount of bills, paid off my Colombia trip – I spent shit loads and I’m only negative $3,500 from the original amount.  From my perspective, I’m doing well and each week I add more repeating clients to my repertoire – I’m unstoppable.  And when I’m unstoppable, I’m happy.  And when I’m happy, I either get horny or play video games.  And as you can plainly see, I game.  Oh yeah baby I can game all night.  Game long hard hours.  Only need me some gatorade and lean pockets – notice I said lean not hot.

I’m totally down to LFG and spelunking in WC.  WC, man now there’s some memories…

I’ll never be accepted into high society, will I?  Or maybe it’s me that won’t accept them….hmmm?

For my brothers Christmas present this year I painted him a watercolor of a bowhunter shooting a deer.  It’s what he wanted, he’s into that sort of stuff.  It’s something pretty to end this post with – The blood and gore of killing natures beautiful serene animals depicted marvelously!

bowhunter in watercolor

Oh yeah and I wrote Brad, my non-date, a letter.  You don’t have to read it, it’s just an add-on bonus.

Hey Brad I’m looking forward to tomorrow! What are we going to do? Dinner? Dancing? Whatever we do, it will be fun. 
I’m going to take the chance of sounding like a complete asshole here and I hope you don’t change your mind about wanting to hang out, but the sad truth is I’m not looking for a relationship. I stopped dating years ago. I don’t know why, I just stopped completely and started running in the opposite direction. It’s a mystery as of why, I have no idea but it is what it is.
I’m guessing that its because I’m not satisfied with my life and need to break free and stand on my own before I get involved with anyone. I don’t want to have to feel dependent on anyone, it sort of takes away my feeling free, you know?
I know I sound like a damn fool right now lol. Stupid Mel. But seriously, I live with my parents, I’m still very much a child. I’m being honest with you. Sad, sad deplorable honesty.
I have to work on myself before I’m good enough for anyone. And the terrible truth is that I have no idea when that will be. I’m so immensely content with my life, all thats missing is turning myself into an adult and leaving the nest. All other aspects are spectacular except for that one minor detail. And I’m working a lot at my business to rectify this situation.
Anyway, I really REALLY want to be friends with you! Is that horrible? I hope I’m not sounding like a jerk. Well, I know I sound like a jerk just by assuming us hanging out will lead to a romance – that’s pretty darn vain even for me.
This message is meant to shed a little light on my true colors, and here they are. Pretty messy colors indeed.
I know this letter is unnecessary and redundant in many ways, but from past experience, these situations can be delicate and I never have the right words face to face. 
I know getting a letter like this completely sucks. Sorry about that. But you’re a fun cool dude, sincere and genuine. I would like to see more of you.
It would be nice if you came out to dinner with Brie and her family and me. Do you like sushi? It’s my all time favorite food I must say. And it’s all you can eat and fresh and delicious. I haven’t seen Brie in about 3 months and I consider her a best friend – that goes to show you how busy work’s been. 
Okay, so anyway, moment of truth. Have to hit the send button. Dammit I don’t want to! These past 5 days I’ve been sick as a dog and last night I had a fever, today my head was going to explode all over my office so I’m probably not completely coherent right now. 
I’m sending it. I’m going to do it. Here goes…

I hope to see you tomorrow!

And you know what the sad thing is?  I would still sleep with him.  I’d have my way with him and leave him be for weeks at a time until another day slips in where I can see him again.  I hate myself for what I do to people.  This is who I am.  And I feel unable to change.  The very least I can do is be honest.  Deplorably, despicably honest.  I don’t find my actions cool, hip, brave or independent,  I find them to be sociopathic (but I swear to god I’m not!).

The two rules I made for myself to counteract my delinquencies are ONE:   Keep my promiscuity at a bare minimum and TWO:   Steadfast honesty.  When dealing with matters of the heart, you have to be kind and delicate – you have to feel for them.

As long as I do those two things, I can still be a decent, good person.  A functioning delinquent with her many psychoses in check.

It’s just that I hurt so many people in the past, now I only want to date those who can’t be hurt.  I ended up hurting the good ones because I felt stifled and too needed.  I don’t like feeling needed all the time.  Leave a little to the imagination, you know?  A little mystery to figure out.

I’m damaged – completely and wholly damaged and I don’t know what made me like this.  I was never abused, never molested.  That damn poltergeist in my bed showed me what it felt like to be truly loved by someone – it was amazing.  It felt wonderful.  It baffles me as much as it baffles you dear reader(s).  As to why I’m like this.  I would rather go back to dating Dave again than getting intimate with Brad.  I don’t make any sense.  Maybe I really am that superficial….I love the way Dave looks, I can’t help it.  I’m a superficial sociopath when it comes to men.  I’m the very type of person I hate.

Wow, what just happened, I blacked out, what’d I say?  Shit…

It’s all too complicated for me.  I’m happy with Amy.  Keep things simple and light, even though we fight all the time and I always manage to piss her off, we make a good pair.

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A lovely post for a lovely day

I’m thinking that I might be bipolar.  But I’m also a hypochondriac so I’m never 100% rational about any ailment or psychosis I think I have.  It’s like saying I’m paranoid, but maybe I’m just paranoid about being paranoid.  See what I mean?  I’m a nut job.

I feel bipolar because lately I’ve been getting astounded by everything.  Well, everything always astounds me, but now it’s different.  I feel aligned with the universe and I’m tumbling into the cosmos taking notes on everything I find.  And everything I find is beautiful and amazing. So am I bipolar?  Yes, undoubtedly I am.

I’m sitting in work waiting for my next client.  He might be a full paying client, but I’m not sure.  This week I had 7 full price paying clients.  2 of them come every week! 7 X 70 = shit tons!  And that’s not including tips or all the groupon people.  Life is awesome these days.

I signed myself up for Linkedin last night and became a member of a few massage therapist groups.  Many therapists on there can’t get clients, can’t retain them and are about ready to give up.  This is yet to be another thing that astounds me.  There are limitless ways to get clients and keep them!  I have about 50 idea’s to do it, but I’m so busy right now and comfortable with my income that I’m starting to slack off.

Within the next few days I plan on mailing out a newsletter to all my existing clients and writing up a memo to stuff into all my fellow tenants mail cubbies giving them a neighborly tenant discount.  By doing those two things alone, will bring me business.  And that’s just common sense marketing idea’s – there are more creative ways than that!

I strongly believe that people set themselves up for failure.  They are so miserable, carrying around baggage they can’t let go of, that it makes them karmaticaly (sp? word?) energized to fail.

I could not be any more happier than I am right now with my business.  And you should see it!  It’s just a small room without it’s own reception area or bathroom – just a plain room in an old, cold, creepy building!

But people keep coming back.  They love it.

I’m so happy these days, but in high demand.  I barely have any time for friends, and the little time that I do have is spent with Amy who has verified herself as a true and loyal buddy.  I forgot what it felt like to have one of those.  During the span of my life, I always had a best friend.  I don’t pick these people, they just topple into my life and I fall for them.

Dave was a best friend, but we linked together in the way of sensual activities that we both equally enjoyed.  He somehow knew my feelings better than most, but we are not ethically compatible.  He has different beliefs than I do.  It’s like being best friends with a girl who cheats on her husband with a married man – it’s hard to truly connect with someone like that.

But Amy not only likes the same sensual pleasures as me, her heart is golden as well.  I found her at a time in my life when I needed her.  Before I met her, I thought about all the times when I felt the love of a true friend, and so I wished it into existence.  I made it happen again.  Just like I did my business – I imagined what it would feel like being successful and happy, and wished it into existence.  This shit is furrealz yo.  Just have to keep your eye on the prize, plan, meditate and action.  Action is 90% of the game.

I feel like reading.  I want to hole myself up for a month and read all the awesomeness that’s ever been written.  I want to think, ponder and evaluate until I reach the limits of my thinking capacity, and then think some more.

In five months time I will be leaving for an extraordinary adventure, and once I come back, I’m buying a house.  My life is just starting to take shape.  And I’m the one who’s shaping it!  I’ve spent so many months being depressed, sad and drunk, that all this good stuff is totally new territory.  It’s always been here, I was just too downtrodden to see it.

Many of my clients are into real estate investment.  They buy houses and rent them out.  And those same people buying houses, some of them, not all, but some are looking to get rich quick.  These are the same people buying into pyramid scams.  The Mona Vie wine for instance (huge pyramid scam) has been offered to me several times by clients.  Same with selling electricity for some elusive lighting company, selling vitamins, makeup and the like – these are the people also buying real-estate.

That time I went to the real estate investment meeting and I was listening to Larry Goins make his sales pitch, half of the people there bought  it.  They were all suckers.  These people are down on their luck, looking for a quick miracle – there is no quick miracle.  Again, it seems like fear is driving them, not common sense.  Fear of not having enough, fear of dying broke and miserable having nothing.  It’s not cognizant.  It’s taking without giving.  These people will never gain the edge by being driven by fear and greed.

I’m not praying for a miracle, I’m making one happen.  The real miracle already transpired – I’m here!

I have a good head on my shoulders.  I always had a good head.  I’m able to keep in balance my new found insight into the fragile, sometimes cruel psyche of the human condition, but keep my own heart good and pure.  Knowing the depths of the ugly shadows people hide, but not letting it overshadow my own beauty.  Most people are weak.  I choose myself.  I choose to look at my own light and by doing that, it comes out in others.

Life is too short to be afraid of self-inflicted demons, my own or anybody else’s.  If what I feel is a bipolar high, than god bless this condition and screw meds!

I said: what about my eyes?
God said: Keep them on the road.
I said: what about my passion?
God said: Keep it burning.
I said: what about my heart?
God said: Tell me what you hold inside it?
I said: pain and sorrow?
He said: ..stay with it.
The wound is the place where the Light enters you.

~ Rumi

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My Special Clients


energy (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

Yesterday kicked my ass.  Truly 100% kicked my arse.  I was hungover and ended up having to massage for 6.5 hours.  2 of those hours were my asian mentor clients.

My massage room was dark, lit up by my Himalayan salt lamp and a small lamp shaded over with a scarf.  Soft music playing.  It was very warm and inviting.  The couple wanted to stay in the room while the other got massaged.  I don’t blame them, the ambiance in here is killer.  But I admit, it’s weird.  My job is very weird.  Throw in a happy rich young couple, and you got yourself a party.

The wife sat on the bench playing a game on her cell phone while I rubbed lotion up and down the body of her smiley hubby. Then, after his massage, the hubby sat on the bench in complete relaxation, smiling even more than ever while I rubbed his Mrs. up and down.  The three of us alone in the empty building late Sunday night.  Warm atmosphere, soft music and we talked about life.

Husband – “It’s so funny how certain people are drawn together.  Like-minded people find each other.”

Wife – “We were meant to meet you.”

Husband – “It’s law of attraction.”

I got all weird on them and started rambling about the universe, letting my black aya eyes show through.  Here is the gist of my ramble:

Me – “According to the big bang theory, everything, the entire universe was a singularity.  Everything was mashed together and inter-woven.  All energy that exists and will ever exist was tangled together to form one single dot.  If that theory is true, than everything we see is fundamentally, energetically intertwined and connected.  Space does not exist.  It’s just an illusion.  What we see as space is actually energy – all space is filled with it.  This is how we’re able to feel what other people feel.  We feel their energy.  Even if that person lives half-way around the world, we can still feel them.”

Me – “And since we’re all connected, if aliens really do exist, we would be connected to them as we are all connected with the universe.  We are one with the universe.”

Wife – “I always believed that about aliens.  That they’re like us.”

Me – “We’re all the same.”

I knew before I opened my mouth to speak, I was going to let out a long philosophical ramble, but I did it anyway despite criticism or judgement.  I felt I had something to share, and people who have something to share, take the risk in doing so.  And they were pleased that I did.

I shared with them, and they shared with me.  They shared with me the harsh realities of being wealthy.

Them – “You’d be surprised how it changes people.  You learn first hand who your real friends are.  They all feel entitled to what you have and keep taking and taking and drain everything you have.  When you acquire wealth, you should keep it a secret for as long as you can.”

Me – “I share everything though.  I’m a giver.”

Wife – “The more you share, the more people will expect it.  They feel entitled.”

Me – “That’s really sad.”

Wife – “It is sad.  You have to get rid of those people in your life.”

It was Amy’s exact words.  She lost nearly everyone.  They all got mean and turned against her.

Wife – “Just be ready for that.  They can have what you have, but they need to do it for themselves.”

Evil envy strikes again.  I never been envious, never asked for anything from anyone.  I know deep down that I could have what everyone else has, so why be envious?  And besides, I love me!  Not once in my life did I ever want to be someone else – not ever!

It seems like this whole year has been an eye opener in seeing the true nature of people.  Everyone’s egoistic hedonists with tunnel vision and unwavering beliefs formulated around fear and violence.  They don’t see reality, only what they want to see.  And when someone has what they want, it becomes a fixation of unfairness or inequality.  They think they are the voice of reason, of what’s true and good – hearing and seeing only what pleases them and reinforcing their beliefs with others who also share similar feelings.  With these people you’re either for or against.  There is no you, only them.  And they want what you have.  They can stack an entire army against you.

People have to know their fear in order to know their pain.  The only problem with that is having to admit somethings wrong with them in the first place!  And who the hell wants to do that?  Me, I want to do that.  I’ve been trying to break this Melanie code since I started writing from my heart.  It makes the Da Vinci Code look like patty cake.

Beliefs warp the mind!  I have no beliefs.  I’m an empty book.  You tell me about your success and it inspires me, I don’t think I’m entitled to anything other than inspiration.

A person who has no envy in their hearts, has to learn about it like an autistic person learning facial features – we just don’t understand.  We know it’s there, but don’t get it.  I sincerely don’t get it!

But it’s there.  It’s heavily all around us, in everyone!  Well, 90% of us according to my calculations.

I’m home in bed.  Super tired – way way beyond tired and it’s not even 10pm.  I have to put my blog down before it gives me insomnia.  I honestly want to blog off my fingertips, but it can’t be done tonight.

Hopefully tomorrow I’ll get to write about how I almost died in yoga today – really!  I almost died!

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Day 54 of Groupon

Its day 54 of Groupon and it seems the rush of clients is finally slowing.  I only massaged 181 groupon people out of 606, so I’m a little surprised it’s slowing up.  I’m surprised, but thankful.  I’m so behind on everything.  I have a long list of shit to do.  For the last 54 days, I had no time for anything, and the little time I did have was spent hanging out with friends, or blogging.

I’m beat.  Super beat.  I usually take one day a month for myself to lay around and do nothing – no worries, no to-do list, just complete stress free relaxation.  During the storm, I spent about 10 hours over Amy’s house laying around doing nothing, but it’s not the same since I can’t relax knowing that my list of shit to do is growing day by day.

I need to get my head straight, get my shit together.  I need to weld a broken pipe under my car, get an oil change, pay my property taxes, I need ink cartridges…..Basically all the things that I had no time for in the last 54 days.  It’s time to play catch-up.

Cover of "Rich Dad, Poor Dad: What the Ri...

Cover via Amazon

I’m waiting for my first and only client of the day.  At least I hope he’s my only client.  That’s another reason I’m unable to relax.  I constantly have clients up my ass wanting to get in.  Having to always stay on top, ready to answer my phone is not something I’m used to handling.  It takes away from my natural lay-about ways.

Day 54 is doing me in.  I’m supposed to go out to dinner tonight, but what I really need to do is sleep for a week.

All this is for the Camino.  It’s all for the Camino.

My real estate investment mentors want me to read Rich Dad Poor Dad again and get back to them when I’m finished.  A huge portion of my energy is being waisted fretting about not being able to do both the Camino and real estate investing.  It’s a life changing decision to make.  The course of my life hangs unmolded.

If I were reading this as an onlooker, which one would I want to see me do?  Both.  I want to see me accomplish both.

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Happy Changes

Pint of American beer

Pint of American beer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I got rid of all the negative people in my life so now things seem a bit boring.  No more gossip, no more anguish.  Just me.  Just me and my life.  It may take some getting used to.

I also stopped going out and drinking as much.  The last time I went out drinking was Saturday and it seems like forever ago.  It’s only been 6 days.  And that was the last day of the drama.

I love beer.  Absolutely love it.  I would drink it on any occasion.  From baptisms to boogie boarding, I always have a can in my hand.   But I’m also doing okay without it.  I don’t need it, but I do love it.

My life has changed drastically over the course of these passed few weeks.

Not too long ago I was a poor girl with no ambition.  I waitressed and drank like a fish every night.  Then I worked for Massage Envy, and still I drank like a fish with no ambition – a fish not knowing she’s wet.

I drink to cope with the idiots.

“Okay, so you want to hang out with me?  Got any beer?  I can’t just sit there wittling the hours away listening to the woe’s of your life.  I got my own woe’s, but you take no interest in those.  So give me beer and I’ll sit and I’ll listen and I’ll be nice, I promise.”

Beer let’s me acquiesce.

But now without beer and without idiots, all I’m left with is me and my ambitions.  It’s the first time in my life that I feel I have time to actually achieve something, anything!  I can learn a new language, learn the piano.  My talents are limitless.  Honestly, not saying this to be high on myself or anything, but I’m down-right good at everything I put my heart into.  My body is even amazing!  I hiked up the Himalayas’ with only altitude symptoms to deal with – once I was down the mountain, I was jauntily traipsing away.

But what do I write about?  In the past I mostly wrote about how what a lush I am, small gripes dealing with work, how other people’s actions affected me personally.  But now I’m no longer a lush, I have no gripes about work (only that I’m wicked busy) and the idiot people that let their character flaws affect me personally – are no longer in my life.

And I still have a ton of friends!  Good friends too.  The one’s with talent, intelligence and not an evil bone in them – and they love me to pieces.

My entire life will change.  This is a new blog and a new life.  I just hope I don’t get bored and start making up my own drama.  Then I’ll become like one of those idiots.

Do I start blogging about my success?  That seems pompous and arrogant, but what else is new?  I’m a freaking writer for christsake.

Okay, I’ll do it.  I’ll blog about my little business.  Last night I made my very first money roll.  A money roll is a wad of cash that needs to be rolled up and held in place with an elastic.  This is day 42, and I already managed to save $1,545 in cold hard cash.

A smart person who thinks inside the American Box dream, would start stashing money away for a house or shiny new car – some type of money making investment perhaps.  But I want to walk the Camino instead.  500 miles using my feet as my sole vehicle. Dumb idea for a vagabond massage therapist?  Maybe for you it’s dumb.  But for me, it’s magic.  It’s something not everyone can do, or want to do. It’s the part in me that makes me so awesome.

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Food so good it gives you the shits and giggles

I had to move my blog to get away from the Angry Mob of Melanie Haters, so here I am at therapistmonkey. And I assure you that it’s pronounced The Rapist Monkey. And not Therapist Monkey. Although, I am a licensed professional therapist of applying lotion to people’s backsides. But still, The Rapist Monkey has more zing.

I’m waiting for my first victim of the day to arrive.

This is day 39 of Groupon and I did the math last night. It took me an hour to figure out. I need to give 606 massages in the next 142 days. So far I did 135, leaving me with 471 to go. That’s not including my full-priced paying clients who are also scheduling appointments.

So, I’m screwed. At least it’s not the 800 massages I originally thought, but 606 is still too many.

471 clients….

Can I do it?

I woke up with an aching back today. Never in my life have I ever woken up with an aching anything. It’s from not having a desk in here. I’m hunched over my laptop typing this shit.

It’s so weird writing in my blog and not getting any hits. I keep looking up at my stat counter and seeing that I’ve gotten 4 per hour in the last 48 hours. It’s lonesome here by myself.

Starting over sucks. Damn those no good Angry Mob Melanie Haters! Don’t they have anything better to do than sit around and powwow over my latest entries?

L – “Melanie wrote shit about me for having loud sex with her ex-boyfriend while she was in the next room? That bitch! I’m a mother and a professional! She shouldn’t write at the expense of others.”

L – “Thanks for telling me about what she wrote, you’re a true friend.”

H – “And you also.”

(Taken from my imaginary conversation they had about me.)

People are crazy – crazy! Not only are they crazy, but delusional and complete idiots.

Anyway on a lighter note, my mother cooked up some awesome fish stew yesterday. I came home from work and her and my dad were both hard at work preparing the stew in the kitchen. My Dad proclaimed proudly that he caught the huge shark/fish himself. He says it’s a shark.

Mom – “Look what we’re making! You’re going to love it!”

Me – “Am I? What is it?”

Mom – “It’s healthy. It’s shark.”

Me – “Shark? Really?”

Mom – “It’s almost done. You can eat shark raw can’t you?”

Me – “Sure.”

Dad – “I don’t know…”

I went over to the stairway to check my mail.

Mom – “Okay it’s done.”

So I helped myself to two heaping helpings of semi raw shark meat. I eat sushi all the time, I have a stomach of steel, but 20 minutes later I had to run to the bathroom. I felt it coming on before hand.

Me – “Oh no, this doesn’t feel like it’s going to be pretty. Oh no. Oh Geez.”

And when I got up this morning, after eating breakfast, the same thing happened.

Me – “Oh no, oh God. Again? Why? I ate eggs! EGGS!”

I’m not placing the blame on the shark. Rumor has it that it takes a full 24 hours to experience symptoms of food poisoning (according to the book Waiter Rant), so I don’t know….

And guess what I’m going to do when I get home tonight? Eat the rest of the shark stew. You know it baby. Hey, I have to eat stuff high in microbes and bacteria in order to toughen my immunity when I visit foreign lands. Amy eats only plain, well cooked simple foods and she nearly died from vomiting in Nepal.

Speaking of Amy, her and Dave had it out the other day. She lost her temper and started calling him names outside on the patio at some bar.

Me – “Okay Amy come on, let’s go.”

I said it in a happy way, like talking to a pet.

Amy – “You’re a fucking loser Dave that’s what you are. A FUCKING LOSER!”

Me – “Hey Amy, come on get in. Let’s get out of here.”

As I open my car door.

It was a scene. An awkward scene. But the girl cares about me no doubt. If my brother were there, he would’ve applauded her. The little girl’s got spunk.

She was upset that Dave told her to wait inside while him and I had a private conversation outside. She was there alone.

Me – “What do I do Amy? If you were me, what would you do?”

Amy – “I don’t know. I’m not you. Do whatever you want.”

I asked over and over repeatedly asking her what I should do. I didn’t want to leave her in there alone. Finally I said,

Me – “Okay, give me five minutes. I’ll only be gone for 5 minutes.”

I held up my hand holding out five digits and gave her a smile.

Me – “I’ll even leave my beer here.”

Dave wanted to speak to me about my blog. That’s when I first learned he read it. I felt guilty for hurting him, but he said he’ll still be my friend.

But afterword, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I didn’t care if he forgave me or not. Amy got in my head and everything she says is true about him.

Dave is a scumbag. A dirty, dirty scumbag. And I love him still goddammit.

Dave – “Katie may have her problems, but she has a good heart.”

In reference to an emotionally troubled woman he bangs on the side.

I’m certainly not going to miss L, or any of the others. It’s only Dave I will miss. He’s just so freaking fun and nonjudgmental. He’s nonjudgmental because his standards are so low! And my brain doesn’t have to work that hard when I’m with him.

But I really don’t need any of the other assholes. It’s like I had a breakthrough.

That’s why this happened to me. It had to happen. Bad people are weighted energy holding me down. It’s no wonder I’ve been immobile for this long. They kept me there in that low place of reality tv and doing nothing. Not being creative, imaginative or curious about anything. They owned me and they knew it. Constantly grabbing at me, then pushing me away. Having their fun. Taking everything out on me.

Everything has a turning point. A point of no looking back, having no return. It can either crush a person or evolve them. I’m picking the high road and evolving. Well, first it crushed me, but there’s a turning point to that as well.

I have one follower. She was a follower of my old blog, so I’m a little confused on how she found me again. I want this blog buried in with all the others. How did she find me again so quickly? I hope it’s not as easy for the Angry Mob of Melanie Haters.

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Oh Groupon..

Down a dark deserted hallway

There’s a small windowless room

Where Melanie the Masseuse lies encased in her tomb

Century’s passed since she last uttered a word

Era’s gone by and she has not stirred

She lies there dreaming of a life that once was

Memories are sharp

Digging around with their claws

Being cryogenically frozen in space and time

Her lips and skin blue

Hair matted down like glue

She lays there awake

Her mind never off

She see’s only the darkness behind

an old linen cloth 

The hallway outside brightens and buzzes

The flourescent lights turning on

Her ears perk up

She hushes

“What’s going on?  What’s happening out there?”

Rolling down her cheek is a lonesome frightful tear.

Someone rambles in

her chambers where she lies within

“Hello?  Is someone there?”

Her chin


“It’s just me your next client.  Do not be alarmed, I’m compliant.

Your clients await you, they’re filing in by the masses.

So get up my dear friend, 

Get up and massage 400 asses.”

I’m waiting for my next client.  It’s 11:09.  She’s late.  Damn.  I hate calling people.  I’ll wait until 11:15, than I’ll call her.

I wrote that ode in the 20 minutes I’ve been sitting here waiting.

Tick tock

Tick tock


It’s a dark rainy day here on October 12th

It’s payday from Groupon

Now aint that just swell – th

I like getting money instead of waiting in the dark

Being frozen in time, eating up minutes like a shark

Ahhh What am I saying?

Shit where is this lady.

It’s not a lady, it’s a man and I got his voice mail.  This is not good.  I need to be fully booked everyday 6 days a week cause you know why?  You want to know why?  Because I’m pretty much screwed in the ass otherwise.

I’m not just massaging 400 asses – it’s a lot more than that.  A shit ton more.

Groupon wanted to sell a package deal – buy 3 massages for $100.  I get $17.50 a massage plus tip, so I said sure sounds great.

Besides, most people will opt for the one hour.  Buying 3 sessions to get a rub down by someone you don’t know is highly unlikely.  Well, Groupon took it upon themselves to “sell out” of the 60 and 90 minute massage options.  How can you sell out of massages?

I found this out from two of my clients.

“Really?  I had no idea they did that.  How would I sell out of massages?”

So last night I looked online and saw how many of the package deals I sold.  I want to cry.  I want to cry, weep, wither and die.  I want to stick Groupon with a sharp pointy stick in their eye.

I sold 200 of the buy 3 deal.  200!  200 X 3 = well, you do the math.  I have to give 800 massages within the next 5 months.  Break that down day by day that’s 5 clients a day if I work 7 days a week.  5 clients a day, and then I’m getting repeat full priced clients on top of that.

I’m fuuuuuuucked.  Fucked.  Hence the poem.  I am so freaking out right now.  I’m calling Groupon, screw it.  I’m calling them right now.

Damn I’m on hold.  It’s 11:39.  Let’s see how long it takes for them to pick up.

I feel like I’m going to shit my pants.

I desperately need a desk in here.  My back doesn’t hurt after a day a massaging, it only hurts when I type in my blog.  I’m hunched over with the Mac in my lap.  Ouch.  A tv tray is no desk.  It’s not tall enough.


What song is this?  Is it supposed to keep me calm?  It’s not working.

11:48.  I just got off the phone with them.   The private sale in now turned off – thank the lord Jesus.  I only had 24 more to sell before reaching 400, but 24 x 3 = Well, you do the math.  I’m bad at it.

I’ll be okay.  Everything will be okay.  I’m making money, this is a good thing.  It’s what I wanted.  And selling on Groupon requires a huge price in advertising, so I’ll be able to deduct my losses as a business expense – I won’t have to pay much at all for taxes next year.

Instead of getting an accountant to deal with everything, I’m learning how to do it all myself.  I studied the different options, weighed the pro’s and con’s and opted for a sole proprietorship.  It’s versatile and also allows for health insurance deductions.   I won’t have to pay a dime in health insurance.  The massage association offers a plan to insured practitioners, so that’s on my to-do list.

Think about it, why pay an accountant when I can take that money and donate it to charity instead and in the process teach myself the in’s and out’s of the tax world.

I bought Turbo Tax software for sole proprietorship from Amazon for $8.  Laziness is the bane of all human existence.  I’m trying to do the opposite.

Damn I need a desk.  Shit yo.

I’m going to read a little and lay on my back on my Spoonk mat.

spoonk mat

Click on the image if you want one.


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Another day another back rub

My last client was a little strange.  She’s an older woman, and one of those people who like a painfully deep massage.  She gave me a hug when it was over and didn’t want to let go.  She kept rubbing my back.  Not patting, but rubbing.  My brow furrowed and my eyes wondered around the room asking the question, “is this weird?”

She asked me a few questions and stared at me.

Her – “Who takes care of you?”

Me – “Um….”

I was about to say my parents take care of me, but that didn’t seem like the right response.  I spot my back buddy (a device used to massage my own back) and snatched it up.

Me – “My back buddy.  It works really well.  I don’t have enough time to get massages these days.”

She stared at me smiling.

I started using my back buddy.

Me – “….”

More staring.

Me – “It really works.”

Me – “I’m eating sushi for lunch.  I try to take care of myself.”

She rummaged around in her purse.

Me thinking “Oh good please pull out tip money and not a business card.”

She handed me a business card.

Her – “You should come see me.  I’m right down the street in Middletown.  I’ll give you a reflexology session on the house.”

My ears perk up whenever I hear the words “on the house.”

Me – “Oh thank you so much.  I’ll definitely come see you.  Thanks.”

She hugged me again.

Her – “That was wonderful what you did.”

She was referring to the massage.

When I give a massage, I like to make contact with the persons hands to form a connection.  And it feels really nice and comforting while I’m massaging their inner forearm.  It’s the only part of the massage where an intimate professional bond can be formed.  25% of men (possibly more), like to grasp my hand and hold it.  Sometimes caressing it, which sketches me out, but it’s usually innocent.  With women it’s more like 5% (if that).  She was a hand holder.

I never had reflexology before, and she didn’t leave me a tip so I feel like I should go do it.  Is this a bad idea?  I don’t know.  It was weird, you’re just going to have to trust me on that.

After the massage, I went into the break room for a little sushi lunch.  I ate a couple pieces and looked at the time.  12:30.  I’ll be here until 8:30 tonight.  I left the remainder of my sushi to save it for later.  I have to make it stretch.  My next client doesn’t get here until 2:30, so here I am blogging.  It’s 1:02 now.

I guess I should read a little.

After ordering business cards from Vista Print, they show you a bunch of little add-on’s you can choose from for cheap.  One of these add-on’s were stickers.  So I bought a bunch of stickers for my clients to stick on after getting a massage.

I found it ingenious.  I only offer them to tippers.

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