It's the thought that counts...right?

First of all...Happy New Year!!!!!!!!  I just got up.

So yesterday I made an appointment for The Fiance and I to get massages.  I love massages and bought him one for a Christmas present (of course I thought the present would be even more thoughtful if I booked one for myself too).  I purchased a massage through SF Gate Daily Deals...which is like Groupon.  I heart Groupon (if you don't use it, you should).  So this site I guess is like a Groupon poser - there are a lot of those now.  So...I saw in their daily deal they had a $45 60-minute massage at Bliss Spa.  Bliss Spa! I love Bliss Spa!! It is at the W Hotel and they have waxes for your girly parts that don't hurt at all (not kidding does not hurt).  It is a pricey spa but if someone is going to put hot wax near my girly parts I don't care what it costs.  Did you see the Kardashians episode where she got third degree burns? Down there.  (Not that I watch that show...I um, read that somewhere).

ANYWAY.  I was so excited and he was too when he opened the gift.  On Tuesday I went to find my voucher for the massage so I could make us appointments for this week.  And then I find out.  It is not Bliss Spa.  It is Bliss Spa 20 minutes away not associated with the W.  At all.  So I think ok, they have a website.  It has pictures of feet soaking in roses.  HOW BAD CAN THIS REALLY BE? (Famous last words).

So The Fiance was super sweet "oh honey, that does not matter! It is still a massage."  Smile. Hug. Smile. Hug. That was until we saw the "spa" as we pulled up in my little bug yesterday.

This is not a spa.

I am pretty sure there are no actual licenses here.

I am pretty sure there is going to be a police raid while we are there.

"Ok, so I am sure this is going to be just fine" I think to myself...The Fiance and I squeeze hands tightly and part ways to our massage rooms...I am wondering if I am ever going to see him again after I am sold into a asian prostitution ring.

Here is what I saw when I got undressed and laid down on the massage "table" under the light blue bed sheet and before I put my head on the PAPER TOWELS that are covering the little face rest. A big. Almost empty. Massive bottle. Of. Baby Oil.  Generic.

So as the little woman is coating my body in BABY OIL I am thinking this is not bad.  If I can get past looking at the dirty floor (why are there random bobby pins all over the floor? Did they fall out during the last police raid?) and staring at the "massage therapist's" feet (at least she had a pedicure in her flip flops) the massage is not that bad...until while I am on my back. And she crawls up on the table.  And straddles me.  And crawls across my back.  On her knees.   Then she drops her knees on either side of me and pulls them back up.  Multiple. Times (Is this some technique I am unaware of? Because it is starting to feel like a bad date.  In high school.)  Soon after she leaves the room without  saying anything (are we done, should I get up) and leaves the door open (um, kinda naked here under the sheet people!) and then comes back with a hot towel to wipe all of the yucky oil off my body.  (I shampooed my hair three times last night to get this crap out.  Three times. )

Ok, so it was the strangest (and dirtiest) massage I had ever had but I felt kinda relaxed.  I was sitting in the waiting area waiting for The Fiance to get dressed and his "massage therapist" begins to tell me how good looking my husband is.  "Is that your husband? He is GOOD LOOKING.  You bring him back here again."  Ok, kinda weird but The Fiance is a hottie so I let it pass.  He comes out of his room, takes my hand and we speed walk to the car.  After recovering from the hysterical laughter (and slight trauma!) of what happened to him let's just say I owe him.  Big time.