Soooooo..... I cried during my massage yesterday. I'm not embarrassed by this.
I ate too much spaghetti on Sunday night and threw up. Twice. That's embarrassing.
Jarrett was my masseuse and I probably shouldn't say this, but he was cute (in an entirely impartial, observant sort of way). He remained cute all the way through my neck and shoulders. Midway through my arms I noticed that he had grown two small horns.
When we moved onto legs, I peeked my eyes open to plant a well aimed kick to his face and noticed a tail and goatee.
By the time he reduced my back to a puddle of mush his skin had turned red and he had an evil glint in his eye.
That might be around the time I blacked out.
By the time I crawled out of that torture chamber I may have been to hell and back but I felt great (like on the good drugs).
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