It's about Time.

Tonight's the night!

Yesterday, after having the headache from H-E-double- hockey-sticks,

I decided that I was due for a nice relaxing, coma-inducing massage. And now that I have another half to worry about, I decided it was my duty to drag him along with me. To my surprise, I didn't have to do much dragging. My significant others rules were simply "No guys allowed Em, I dont want any touching me and if any touch you, I'll break their neck."

"Can I please request two females? I asked the young woman in charge of scheduling.

"We only allow 2 females in the couples room anyway," she said.

Apparently this wasn't the first time she had heard this request.

Based on the voice of the sweet gentleman who first answered the phone, I wondered if he may have been the better choice. I'd confidently put 50 bucks on the table that his second job was a makeup specialist at the Clinique counter.

But so it is, tonight at 6:45pm we will both be nestled on our little face hole massage beds, listening to kenny g, and doing our best not to drool.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Word of caution: Outside of ab work, massage is the No. 1 cause of accidental flatulence. At the gym, you can dismiss it with a disapproving glance, but here on the massage table you have no choice but to smile and explain that, where you come from, it's a compliment.