The Bag Whore Goes Commando! (The Sad Tale of The Blue Papier-Mache Thong)

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Today is Monday for a lot of people here in the States, so I held my More Cowbell Monday laugh until y’all could get back on your computers and appreciate it.

Set your beverage down, and enjoy…I can’t wait to hear your stories in the comments.

My favorite Facebook update while I was down with shingles was from the Bag Whore.

[Many of you remember my brother…he’s affectionately referred to, here at More Cowbell, as The Bag Whore. (You’ll see why if you click that link above.)]

I logged on to see THIS update from his romantic getaway with his wife:

Okay, the massage…

It wasn’t the sea salt scrub that bothered me. Nor was it the green baby poo they smeared all over me. Even the white sludge that followed wasn’t so bad. However the little blue Pull Up paper thong I had to wear the whole time kinda crossed the line.

Not again. Ever.

I waited impatiently for him to get home so I could get his story and share it with all of you.

When I finally got him on the phone I prompted, “So tell me about this traumatic massage…” Below is his rant. I typed like a mad woman to get it all down for you.

The Sad Tale of the Blue Papier-Mache Thong

Him: *rude noise* Sis, have you ever seen a toddler’s Pull-up? Well, they put a version of one on me for this freaking massage. There were a$$ hairs and butt cheeks everywhere.

Me: OK…Ew. Usually they just keep you naked with a sheet over you.

Him: Nope. Think of the material for the blue scrub hats you wore when you gave birth. Or a Pull-up without the Dora design. Now picture that on a 6’7″ man.

Me: I didn’t need that image in my head.

Him: Yeah…me neither. Plus they wrap you in cellophane like a freaking burrito. This was NOT an exercise in relaxation. See, I am a heat-giving machine. My wife will be all wrapped up in 8 blankets and I’ll barely be covered with a sheet.

Me: They actually wrapped you in cellophane? Like Saran Wrap?

Him: Well, first they rub salt all over you to exfoliate. It’s like having a brillo pad everywhere. FYI: That isn’t fun for a guy. Then they slap on a seaweed puree with some snot mixed in that is freezing. THEN they wrap you in plastic.

Now I know how my dry cleaning feels.

Me: *laughing*

Him: After 15 minutes, I told the gal: “You’re going to have to unwrap me because I’m not enjoying this. I’m burning up.” She unwrapped my nether regions so at least those could breathe.

Me: *speechless over ‘nether regions’*

Him: Then they rub white snot that smells like coconut all over you. And the whole time they rub and wash all that crap off, you’ve got the Pull-up on you so your paper gets all wet. You end up with a wet papier-mache thong shellacked in your crevices.

Me: What kind of massage is this?!

Him: It’s called the ‘Aztec Massage.’ It was a couple’s massage. My wife wanted to do it and I paid $350 bucks for this torture.

Me: That’s kind of pricy. Did she like it?

Him: She FELL ASLEEP. I have no idea how she did that with these girls taking rolling pins with points and ridges, and shoving them into various tender parts of our bodies, but she did.

Me: Were you still in the Saran Wrap?

Him: They use the rolling pins over the burrito wrap thingie.

Me: That plastic wrap would be aces for Christmas baking. Nothing would ever go stale.

Him: *snort* Plus, they rub these blue cloths everywhere — and I do mean everywhere — and they have these water noise thingies they turn over every 10 minutes or so.

They put these wet “relaxation discs” on your eyes too so you can’t see shit. So there I am, blind. With snot all over me. I had to mark the time by how often they turned over the water noise thing.

So, the massage lady says to me, “You are very tense.”
And I said, “I’m not comfortable!”

Me: Was there any part of it you liked?

Him: The only part I liked was the Hydrotherapy. You get to wash all the salt and slime out of your cracks and crevices.

Me: Explain to me why you spent $350 on this?

Him: Because my wife wanted to. I did it for love. I sure didn’t do it for pleasure.

Me: *thinking to myself: Dang. And I thought Tameri Etherton’s massage experience was bad.*

What’s the most uncomfortable thing you ever did “in the name of love,” on vacation or otherwise?  Enquiring minds always want to know these things here at More Cowbell!

Jenny

BONUS: If that didn’t make you laugh hard enough on this day-after-Monday, try this link from DamnYouAutocorrect.com: The 26 Best Autocorrects of October. I was crying with laughter.