Pacific Health Group Massage Center

You know those little kiosks at the mall when those annoying people try and rub lotion on your hand… and leave the other one dry and cracking? Leading you to believe that you absolutely have to purchase their product so your hands will match.
Yeah… I hate those fuckers, too. I usually walk by them and say, ‘me no speaka Engrish’. Then I point to my very white husband that, ‘he mail order me from a far away’.
Usually works… until my husband can’t stop laughing and I call him an ass out loud… in my perfect Ame-​li-​can accent.
We were shopping at the mall and I couldn’t resist a massage. So what… you’re sitting there with your face buried in a cushion with a hole big enough for drool to drip on the floor. So what!!!
For 15 dollars, you get 15 minutes. Twenty, you get 25 minutes. So on and so forth.
Look for the Asian dude. Tall, skinny… but packs a mean ass fucking punch. He got the 2 knots out of my shoulder from carrying too many bags from Macy’s and a purse so heavy, you’d cry like a baby if you had to carry it.
This is how our conversation went after my massage:
TSAD (tall skinny Asian dude): you have a too much muscle. You a very a strong (flexing his arms)
me: because I am a champion husband beater
TSAD: you eat husband?
this is when my husband does that shake head looking down embarrassed thing
me: YES… I eat my husband… he missing leg.