tuckova

Oh, geez, I know! It just flies sometimes, and then there you are looking at the same blog post for two weeks, wondering if it's about you, and there's been nothing to distract you. Poor duck.

The sun is shining today, so even though it is brutally cold I am disinclined to kill anybody. SO FAR. 

I've been getting a massage at least once a month this year, trying to find the best massage in Brno. Mostly I book them through slevomat, which is like groupon, figuring that even if it's not great at least it's cheap. And sometimes that means it's not great — I've had some lame skin massages (like: nice? but… it's not my skin that hurts). I've listened to a lot of plinky-plunky music, including the Benedictine monks singing Metalica (or something like that) and Hawaiian Christian music. It's always the fusion music that has me in giggles, and the massage person is all, "Does it tickle?" and I'm "No, no, not at all, huffle snort." Some people are pretty strict about their time but not mine (one woman who didn't know I was in the waiting room so started about 10 min late but finished on time, welcome to non-repeating business). I've had some good ones that I went back to who were… not as good, which is weird because I'd expect your work to be better for somebody paying full price, but my experience hasn't supported that.

Today I had a guy who was mostly blind, and I think he may have been an actual sadist, because WHOA it hurt. It hurt so much that I, Anne, lover of moderate pain, was nearly off the board twice, and not by conscious movement, but by an instinctive need to get away from YEOUCH. To add to the comedy potential of flipping over a massage table, my response to pain is often to laugh, and so there we were, naked American on a table alternately laughing and mewling, and blind man in a white suit, laughing maniacally as he drove his thumb straight through my iliotibial band and into my thigh bone, and I would have said to stop except I couldn't stop clenching my teeth and finally the pain melted and my foot went to sleep for about 10 seconds and then everything felt fine. Four hours later and I'm still figuring out what he did, exactly — everything feels sore and quite fabulous. $15 massage, my friends. 

Anyway so that's how I've been. And super busy with work. See if I'd had more time I might have written something about laughing at pain, but today is not that day.