My back’s hurting a bit from the efforts of an overzealous masseuse last night, so I guess that’s why I started wondering whatever happened to Manang Carmen, a.k.a. the WORST MASAHISTA EVER.
My friend Pauline referred Manang Carmen to me, claiming that she charged “Whatever” — which was a major selling point considering I was a young and pretty much penniless teacher at the time. (This was more years ago than I care to count.)
It was around this point in my life that I learned what people meant when they said “You get what you pay for.”
I’m not really sure what good old Manang Carmen was thinking when she decided to embark on her life path as a massage therapist… but I’m thinking she should’ve just pursued a career in piano instead.
She’d also tend to forget what she was doing whenever a good show was on TV — so sometimes she’d just STOP altogether… and then proceed to either squeeze or PULVERIZE whatever body part was on hand when things got exciting.
But really, I think the most disturbing part of Manang Carmen’s repertoire was the burping.
Manang Carmen claimed that she’d absorb lamig - or pockets of cold air - from my body and that she had to let them out of her own body… with a big old BELCH that would put beer-guzzling truck drivers to shame.
Apparently, I had a lot of air. I’m just grateful she didn’t opt to release this absorbed air from down South, if you know what I mean.
So anyway, I have no idea where in the world Carmen San Burpo is now, but I do wonder if she ever got better… or at the very least, less gassy.
Oh Manang Carmen, you old weirdo. I don’t miss you at all, but I will certainly never forget you.
Be well, wherever you are.