Steven Seagal
08-02-2013, 04:32 AM
Chinese Remedial Massage
6 Barker St
Rooty Hill
Phone:98328823
Hi All,
Well here I am again. I was slumming it in the west and fearing for my life at various stages.
I met up with my nephew Efrem Zimbalist Farquar in the expectation of eating a chicken Pad Thai in the local St. Marys area, but it was not to be. Instead Farquar strong armed me into a punt.
We went out to Mt. Druitt where we had punted last year and I could see Farquar was nervous. He was not just worried about his ute getting trashed, but winding up in the gutter as a fatality.
I’ve commented on Mt Druitt before and won’t belabour the point
BUT
The massage parlour is located near Centrelink and the jokers milling around outside are a sight to behold. If you were an employer you wouldn’t hire any of this lot to shovel shit in Coober Pedy. For this mob of bludgers the only 4 letter word NOT in their vocabulary is ‘work’.
AND
An example of these no-hopers was one bum I heard talking on the phone and he exclaimed “I don’t know who that fuckin cunt is but I’ll kill him!”. Next to him was his ‘partner’ who looked for all the world like an overstuffed baboon with a fag protruding from her hideous gob and two little baboons in a stroller next to her screaming their lungs out.. Not a pretty picture folks.
Anyway, the massage parlour was busy so we decided to try Rooty Hill. This place is decidedly downmarket. It smells like garlic and fried onions. The walls do not reach the ceiling and there are no doors but rags, I mean curtains, used for an entry.
When we arrived at the place there were two WL’s available. One was Mimi and the other was Cici. Upon entering the establishment the following conversation ensued:
Cici: (Looking at me) Good to see you again.
Seagal: We have never met.
Cici: You have been here 3 times this month!
Seagal: I have not been here in over a year.
Cici: I know what I know.
Seagal: (to Farquar) You better take her and I’ll take the other one.
The other one was Mimi. Well, Mimi has a nice face and looks late 30’s. She had B+- C- breasts and a trimmed puss. Her English is just enough for the job, but there were problems with the job.
First, she was reception. So every time someone came in the door she went out and when the phone rang she ‘massaged’ with one hand. This was a bummer.
Second, She had absolutely no massage skill or apparent interest in acquainting any. Thank God she at least used some oil otherwise she’d have rubbed all the hide from my body.
Third, I think she sees her role as providing ‘extras’. Anyway, after 10 minutes of literally being rubbed the wrong way, I purchased some extras. These extras were delivered with all the enthusiasm of Craig Thomson submitting to a strip search or Tim and Julia frolicking in the sack. (What terrible images go through my mind at the thought of that. I swear if you looked deeply into Tim’s eyes you’d see the back of his head. Plus he’s supposed to be a hairdresser and lets Julia cavort around looking like she’s wearing a fright wig!)
Anyway, this was one of those occasions where I stayed longer than Farquar and he was waiting with the ‘lovely’ Cici when I walked out the cubicle through the rag door.
We walked the 20 or so metres to the ute and as we entered the following conversation ensued:
“You know Farquar, I was thinking back on Mt. Druitt and I think I’ll get myself a monkey faced, cretin for a partner and produce some simian kids that at an early age will play cops and robbers with real cops”.
AND
Farquar replied, “Well. Uncle Steven that seems to be what your dad did.”
See you again soon people.
Until that time folks . . .until that time.
Steven.
6 Barker St
Rooty Hill
Phone:98328823
Hi All,
Well here I am again. I was slumming it in the west and fearing for my life at various stages.
I met up with my nephew Efrem Zimbalist Farquar in the expectation of eating a chicken Pad Thai in the local St. Marys area, but it was not to be. Instead Farquar strong armed me into a punt.
We went out to Mt. Druitt where we had punted last year and I could see Farquar was nervous. He was not just worried about his ute getting trashed, but winding up in the gutter as a fatality.
I’ve commented on Mt Druitt before and won’t belabour the point
BUT
The massage parlour is located near Centrelink and the jokers milling around outside are a sight to behold. If you were an employer you wouldn’t hire any of this lot to shovel shit in Coober Pedy. For this mob of bludgers the only 4 letter word NOT in their vocabulary is ‘work’.
AND
An example of these no-hopers was one bum I heard talking on the phone and he exclaimed “I don’t know who that fuckin cunt is but I’ll kill him!”. Next to him was his ‘partner’ who looked for all the world like an overstuffed baboon with a fag protruding from her hideous gob and two little baboons in a stroller next to her screaming their lungs out.. Not a pretty picture folks.
Anyway, the massage parlour was busy so we decided to try Rooty Hill. This place is decidedly downmarket. It smells like garlic and fried onions. The walls do not reach the ceiling and there are no doors but rags, I mean curtains, used for an entry.
When we arrived at the place there were two WL’s available. One was Mimi and the other was Cici. Upon entering the establishment the following conversation ensued:
Cici: (Looking at me) Good to see you again.
Seagal: We have never met.
Cici: You have been here 3 times this month!
Seagal: I have not been here in over a year.
Cici: I know what I know.
Seagal: (to Farquar) You better take her and I’ll take the other one.
The other one was Mimi. Well, Mimi has a nice face and looks late 30’s. She had B+- C- breasts and a trimmed puss. Her English is just enough for the job, but there were problems with the job.
First, she was reception. So every time someone came in the door she went out and when the phone rang she ‘massaged’ with one hand. This was a bummer.
Second, She had absolutely no massage skill or apparent interest in acquainting any. Thank God she at least used some oil otherwise she’d have rubbed all the hide from my body.
Third, I think she sees her role as providing ‘extras’. Anyway, after 10 minutes of literally being rubbed the wrong way, I purchased some extras. These extras were delivered with all the enthusiasm of Craig Thomson submitting to a strip search or Tim and Julia frolicking in the sack. (What terrible images go through my mind at the thought of that. I swear if you looked deeply into Tim’s eyes you’d see the back of his head. Plus he’s supposed to be a hairdresser and lets Julia cavort around looking like she’s wearing a fright wig!)
Anyway, this was one of those occasions where I stayed longer than Farquar and he was waiting with the ‘lovely’ Cici when I walked out the cubicle through the rag door.
We walked the 20 or so metres to the ute and as we entered the following conversation ensued:
“You know Farquar, I was thinking back on Mt. Druitt and I think I’ll get myself a monkey faced, cretin for a partner and produce some simian kids that at an early age will play cops and robbers with real cops”.
AND
Farquar replied, “Well. Uncle Steven that seems to be what your dad did.”
See you again soon people.
Until that time folks . . .until that time.
Steven.