I Love Valerie

Maybe it's the stress, but I seem to be falling in love quite easily these days. While my heart still beats for Joel, my body belongs to Valerie.

She is my soulmate masseuse.

Tonight I was in so much back pain that I grabbed the spafinder gift certificate that I have had for, oh, like a year and scheduled an emergency one-hour session at Virginia Beach Massage Therapy.

I would compare this place to something that is fairly ugly and unimpressive on the outside but is like heaven once you get inside.

Thoughtful metaphor, I know.

But this place is located next to Mount Trashmore, our classy garbage-dump-turned-municipal-park, in a slightly sketch office plaza. Valerie insisted on watching me walk out to my car when she was finished throttling me. What a sweetheart!

I walked in and was initially unimpressed at the simple furnishings. There was nothing wrong with it, per se, but I have been in far posher massage offices. I filled out the necessary forms, and Valerie came out to greet me. The first few minutes of the massage were also so-so, as she placed heat across my shoulders and lightly massaged my scalp and temples.

But then, oh my friends, then the fireworks began.

This amply-proportioned African-American lady had me right where she wanted me, and leaned all her weight into me with her forearms and elbows, all up and down my back and stretching my neck at shocking angles. She checked periodically to make sure I was ok, and must have decided that if I had enough oxygen to grunt at her then I was doing just fine. In reality I was in excruciating, wonderful pain. I wish I could have stayed for two hours, nay two days. This was by far the best massage I have ever had, and I hereby shamelessly plug Virginia Beach Massage Therapy and especially my sweet Valerie. Call today, book your flight if need be, and go see this magnificant lady!

p.s. does anyone else think that these presidential candidates are sounding like broken records? if I hear "main street", "middle class", or "corruption on Wall Street" (or any other of their myriad catch phrases) one more time I might just scrap it all and move to Germany.