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Couples Massage With My Sister

My sister is an…umm…”difficult” person to get along with. To say the least.

She’s the one who gets thrown out of everywhere. She’s the one I don’t like going out to eat with, because you KNOW they’re going to spit in the food after her endless tirades about one thing after another.

But I love my sister, even still. I’ve learned going out for Japanese hibachi is safe. After all, they cook in front of you. But that dude with the sharp knife who slices and dices might just decide he’s had enough of your poor little sis. So even that might not be the best idea.

What IS safe for a person like her? Take out. But don’t let her order. She’ll annoy the **** out of them, repeatedly asking questions and making complicated orders. Repeating herself nineteen times for emphasis. THEY FORGOT THE DUCK SAUCE! Of course they did, Shannon, you only asked them sixteen times to not forget it! By the end it was either spite or they just tuned you out like noise.

Seriously, we’ve even gotten thrown out of Great Adventure. Who gets thrown out of Great Adventure? Shannon does! Don’t ask about the details. It involves her screaming at a food concession girl, probably only fifteen, the girl crying, the state police, and her giving everyone the finger. We were probably on World Star.

If you have a sibling like mine, opt for an in-home massage. It’s way less embarrassing. My sister has a knack for alienating others. She doesn’t mean to. She’s just…kindness-challenged, shall we say? We went for massages at the day spa. I. Will. Never. Bring. Her. Again.

She complained about the ambiance. She complained about the oil that was used. She complained about the pressure like 100 times. She didn’t tip so I had to tip for her. She asked the therapist if this was her first week. The girl had been doing this for five years! I was told next time not to bring her again. Their reason? She had the audacity to ask the receptionist if she was a transvestite or a transsexual. (She was neither.) Bye-bye Shannon.

Couples Massage with Shannon. sigh I try so hard to include this girl, but she makes life hell. Last time, she asked her therapist if she needed a new stylist. Why? Shannon said her dye job wasn’t that great. Who does that? My sister. The one and only.

The funny thing is, my sister really loves getting massages. But she’s like the day spa desperado, with her picture hanging in the lobby, informing everyone not to serve her. Speaking of serving her, how might you guess she deals with drinking? That will require about ten blog entires, but let’s just say it’s not pretty. She gets obnoxious.

One day spa had complimentary champagne. We imbibed together. After three glasses, Shannon burped loudly. This was in a common area, and everyone heard it. I mean, how could they not have? As if that wasn’t enough, about a minute later the girl farts! “Wasn’t me,” she said then laughed like a hyena. “Nah, it was me!” she added. There was a little girl there, about ten, with her Mom. She was wide eyed and her mouth was hanging open. She must have thought my sister was a little loose in the head as she changed her seat. Maybe it was just the smell?

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