Breathing

Made a run to the pharmacy de mornin. Pharmacy. A never ending source of entertainment.

Walked back to the prescription counter (you know... I've given in to peer pressure, and am trying to have normal blood pressure levels, instead of being proud to be an individual), gave the pharmacist my info, and sat down to people watch.

Pretty much the normal folks... the Indian guy who keeps asking each girl behind the counter the same questions, the grumpy old guy, the impatient woman standing with arms akimbo. And then I noticed this guy sitting in a massage chair.

He sat there jumping and lurching as this chair worked him over. I don't know if the chair used magical fingers or electrical impulses, but he looked like he was in agony. Massage over, he'd hit the button to start it again.

I swear, as Buddha is a dead guy who is depicted to be fat, this guy was near convulsions. I watched as his shoulders would jerk, his head snapping back, and feet shooting forward. After the second time, I knew it looked familiar... SHITBRICK! Aka, Paul Finch. (If explanation needed, watch American Pie.) Either the dude was in his death throes, or he was having an orgasm.

I couldn't peel my eyes away... let alone, try to keep from laughing. After a particularly violent episode with his legs, he looked around, and then tucked his legs back under the chair. When the next "whatever" hit, he nearly did a face plant. I choked back a laugh, until I thought I heard "It only hurts when I pee" coming from over the speakers. (I think it was Melissa Etheridge singing "It only hurts when I breathe." 'Least, I hope that's what she said.) I about blew snot all over myself, and acted like I had a close brush with a sneeze when the others looked at me.

Thank gott that I got my meds almost immediately after.

Posted by That 1 Guy at September 29, 2007 02:11 PM | TrackBack