"Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown."

For reasons still not entirely clearly to me, last night I found myself at a massage parlor in Chinatown. And no...it wasn't that kind of massage parlor, as evidenced by the "No hankee pankee" sign in the lobby. No, this was a legitimate place of business, the kind that believes they can control your colon and kidney(s) by rubbing certain parts of your feet. I skipped the foot/colon rub and opted for the old fashioned 15-minute back rub.

It started out as relaxing, sure, but the last ten minutes basically consisted of a tiny man putting his elbow into my back in much the same way Randy "Macho Man" Savage might apply his flying-elbow move to the back of some unsuspecting wrestler. He then karate-chopped my ass and thighs which, if nothing else, convinced me I should hit the gym a bit more.

Pain don't hurt. Except it does.