I’ve had a spot in my back out of place for a couple of weeks. I’ve tried everything to knock it loose, but to no avail. I finally got around to asking someone for help.
Now, my helper thinks she gives the greatest back-rubs in the world, but I beg to differ (if you watch Friends, she’s Monica). I was fearful of what would go down because if massaging is painful, what the hell would she do to me if I needed something cracked. My plan was to keep her T-Rex like claws away from my back, so I suggested she walk on me. Unfortunately, it still wouldn’t crack; so, without warning she switched to the bay watch chest pump, only it was on my back and she used her knuckles instead of her palms. Here’s the scene:
Me: Oooowwww, I don’t think that’s going to work.
Her: You wuss, this feels good. Besides, you don’t even know what a good back-rub is, just breathe out and let me crack it.
Me: (*making a fake cracking noise – CRACK*) Woooaaah, You did it. Thanks! All better.
Her: Here, now let me rub it out.
Me: Nooo noo, you’ve done enough (*cough damage*) already.
She still didn’t believe that her chiropractic assistance and “back-rub” was nothing more that an scoliosis inducing ass whoopin’. Well today I’ve got physical proof. I have two bruises on my back from her delicate women’s touch.