WK10 - the Tree of Life

WK10 was pretty lackluster for the most part, probably because there are more important things to attend to than fantasy hockey this time of year. Sir Fucking Randy's mobile has been very quiet; I've hardly received any correspondence from the select-GM's (save Sitch for the occasional GoodLyfe Body Centre spam).

"It's not spam!" screamed Sitch. "It's a body fulfillment public service announcement which, should you choose to act on, will enhance your --"

Shut the fuck up, Sitch. We've had enough of your damn spamming.

Anyways, it's mostly been lackluster because everyone is more concerned with holiday planning and festivities. I can't complain because I'm the same way. My secretaries, though professional, continuously ask me when and where our staff Christmas Party will take place and whether they should be preparing overnights. If you're lucky, then yes, is what I tell them. These ladies are good at their jobs, but even they sometimes ask for too much testosterone from Sir Fucking Randy. Maybe I'm just getting old.

Even though this past week was lackluster, I will still publish my patented Weekly Statistics Report. I'm deeming it the Tree of Life because Tree Bone was this week's top performer, which is admirable given it was a down week in terms of productivity. Here are the visuals, courtesy of the stats machine:

Sitch still leads in total points, but Tree Bone was this week's top bread winner with 139.50 fantasy points. The average point collection was 117.33. Burgundy was second with 121.45 fantasy points, while Sitch brought up the rear with 104.65. Not a productive week for the leader of the League.

Adds McGuire: He had an off week for sure, Commissioner Randy. He's also played the most games out of all select-GM's as well, but that gap is narrowing as we head into mid-season. Don't be surprised if his lead starts to diminish as other teams pick up more games.

Sitch still leads in overall PPGP, but again, it was Tree Bone who was able to boost her PPGP the most this week; she's now clocking 3.04 PPGP (+0.07 vs. last week).

Adds McGuire: What I'm loving is Safari's trend here. He was all down on himself a mere two weeks ago, thinking his team was an absolute cluster-fuck. However, he's since turned it around and he's got a respectable 3.17 PPGP, just shy of Sitch's 3.19. He's also got games in hand, so it's entirely possible he'll be leading this bunch in the coming weeks.

It's been a few weeks since we've seen any ranking change, which doesn't bode well for me because change and chaos is way easier to report on than static.

Adds McGuire: I'm predicting movement soon, Commissioner. Everyone's PPGP is so close. Teams also start waking up after the holiday break as they begin the push to solidify playoff positions, so I wouldn't be surprised if we see crazy swings in point accumulations.

And finally, the Rainbow. Sitch has a considerable advantage in player PPGP, but otherwise the League is pretty balanced.

Adds McGuire: I have to commend Sitch on leading the player PPGP despite losing Stamkos (his Keeper) who is on the IR. Imagine if he had been healthy and producing at his normal output; I think Sitch would have been a few more points ahead for sure.

"It's unfortunate," said Sitch. "If he only had signed up for COREage, a 6-week GoodLyfe Body Centre plan that focuses on core strength and injury prevention related to --"

You've been warned several times now, Sitch. Don't push your spammer shit on this platform.

Until next time, gentlemen and lady.

- Morpheus Randy

Rudy the Roomba

Alright, time for some random shit. Let's talk vacuums.

As you are all aware, Sir Fucking Randy is the most proper gentlemen; therefore, his corridors are always classy as fuck and cleaner than Buckingham Palace. Privileged guests are always mesmerized by the perfected atmosphere at House of Randy; spotlessly clean, yet still inviting. This atmosphere has been the product of years and years of careful planning, designing and yes, cleaning. Cleaning is a borderline fetish of Sir Fucking Randy and he makes no apologies for it.

Since Tree Bone's return to Canadian soil, she's been a regular guest at House of Randy, and she's frequently dialed my mobile for a courtesy call. It's always appreciated and entertaining, albeit the conversations generally start off the same:

TB: Hello, Sir Fucking Randy.

Randy: Greetings, my dear lady.

TB: What are you up to this fine Friday evening?

Randy: Oh, not too much. Just catching up on correspondence. (swoosh!)

TB: What's that sound?

Randy: What do you mean? (wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!)

TB: ... I can't hear you. Can you speak up?

Randy: How odd... I can hear you perfectly. (whhhhhh-whhhh-whhhh!)

TB: I still can't hear you. What's that sound? Are... ARE YOU FUCKING VACUUMING AGAIN?!

Randy:... Um...

TB: It's Friday! Why the hell are you cleaning on a Friday?!

Randy:... So I can prepare for my follow-up cleaning on Saturday.

TB:...

So yes, I may be a little nutty about cleaning. What can I say? It was passed down to me from Mother Newman. I can't help it! Every time I pass a Dyson display I need to stop and have a look. I own one (and even lent it to Tree Bone during her initial move-in to her home earlier this year) and have been very satisfied with it. However, a Roomba was on sale this Black Friday and I had to take a look. Who wouldn't want autonomous cleaning?

I've been skeptical about these cleaners from the start; being a smaller device, I questioned the suction power among other things. But, while I was in the Orient, I did witness one in action and it was somewhat impressive. So for just under $600, I bought one this November.

"You do realize now, that you have spent $1,200 - cumulatively - on vacuums, right?" said Tree Bone, referring to the Dyson and Roomba I now possess.

I fully acknowledge my obsession, Tree Bone. Anyways, I've had a chance to use it a few times now, and here are my observations (for those who are interested... do I hear crickets?).

It's name is RUDY. 

Why? Because...

1. He tries very hard. Rudy isn't the fastest, the strongest, or the smartest, but damn he sure tries hard. When he's cleaning, he stutters left and right, rotating around in an unpredictable fashion, much like a disorganized football player. Rudy runs into things he's not supposed to, gets caught occasionally and isn't graceful.
2. You find it funny when he struggles. When Rudy runs into obstacles, he makes every effort to get around it. He's determined, but he's also got tunnel vision (he can be very stubborn). As an innocent bystander, sometimes you wonder what the fuck he's doing and why he won't just back out and stop his madness.
3. He's not as good as the others. If you want the best clean, you don't go with Rudy. Others (and I include hard manual labour in this category) are bigger, stronger and faster. Enough said.
4. He surprises you. While he may not be the best, he does surprise you with his capabilities. He can't clean as well as others can, but that doesn't mean he's horrible. He actually picks up quite a bit; it just takes time. And, considering that you can leave him alone to do the work, that's actually quite nice. On several occasions I left my home to run a few errands and turned on Rudy for cleaning; when I returned, he had swept the designated area, finished up and returned to his docking station all by himself. Was it the deepest and most thorough clean I've ever witnessed? No. But was it decent? Yes.
5. He's an Example of Excellence. Rudy is an example of what the mind can achieve when it is determined. The product/output is not as important as the initiative and drive. Initiative and drive are traits that everyone knows about, but few people actually possess and/or apply these traits out of fear of failure. However, I believe that fear of failure is in itself failure; you end up not accomplishing anything. Is Rudy the best vacuum cleaner? No. But does he add value? Yes.

So, overall...

I am satisfied with Rudy the Roomba. He does a job and works hard at it. Granted, I've only been in possession of Rudy for less than a month, so my opinion may change, but as of right now I'm pretty happy with it. I've found that, just like the real Rudy, his success does depend on the support around him. So, to make Rudy the Roomba more successful, it's best to assist in his cleaning efforts; help him by clearing chairs/obstacles out of the way where you can, give him a job that isn't out of his league and be patient while he learns.

WK9 - Millennium Club

Wow, did I ever fuck that up.

Apologies to the literate folks here on the Randy Reports. Last week, I posted our weekly stats report entitled WK8 - Century Crunch, which was in celebration to Sitch and Dick Burns passing the 1,000 point mark. Little did I realize that century is the mark of 100 years, not 1,000! A total brain-fart on my part, lady and gentlemen. This will surely cost me a Pulitzer-Prize (again!).

"I think you were just excited about the 'C' alliteration," said Sitch.

Wow, that's absolutely correct, Sitch. By the way, I'm surprised you know the word alliteration.

Anyways, WK9 will therefore celebrate the Millennium Club, as all select-GM's have now surpassed the 1,000 point mark. Congratulations to all, bitches!

May the Force be with you, select-GM's.

Here are the stats, courtesy of the stats machine:

Sitch was this week's top bread winner, taking in 198.50 fantasy points, just a head of Safari who brought home 192.35 fantasy points. The Crunchy Crasian and the Silver Lion absolutely demolished competition this week as they combined to collect 390.85 fantasy points. The remaining three select-GM's, combined, collected 328.45 points as reference. A fantastic job by Sitch and Safari.

Safari, who had struggled as of late, finally had his week, thanks to heroics from his penta-tandem of goalies, Ovechkin, Simmonds, Letang and Tarasenko. It was long overdue.

Sitch still retains the number one position and has held for two weeks now, but Safari has climbed his way to his familiar silver position and is just shy of first by about 60 fantasy points.

"Don't worry fellas, we all know how this ends," said Safari, sarcastically.

Don't throw in the towel just yet, Safari. The season is still young. Some NHL teams will suddenly make a surge come February as playoff races heat up, and that's where massive points can be made. And, not to jinx it, but Washington has been 'sub-par' in my opinion; I think they are destined for a huge run soon; it may have already started. This bodes well for you as you have Ovechkin and Holtby.

Sitch has now taken over the lead in PPGP with a 3.25.

"It's my favourite statistic!" said Sitch.

Quiet down, meat-head. Sitch and Safari were both this week's top PPGP performers; they both added 0.11 to their PPGP. Safari is close behind at 3.19. The League average is now 3.13, slightly better than last week's 3.11.

In terms of the Rainbow, Sitch's offense has woken up and now leads all teams, averaging 3.08 per player games played. With Stamkos on the IR, Sitch's goals-per-game has fallen, though it's still a respectable 0.27. He's made up for this with assists and averages 0.51 per game. The dark horse here - in terms of points per player games played - is Burgundy though; Big Burgs has a shot % of almost 12%; that's incredibly high, and mostly thanks to --

"CROSBONE!" ejaculated Burgundy.

-- Yes. Crosbone seems to be scoring at will and sports a 26.3% shot percentage. That's insane. You're telling me that he scores once in every four attempts? I'm not sure if he can continue this torrid pace,  (his career average is 14.8%) but Burgundy's definitely lurking in the shadows if Crosby can keep this up.

With the holidays just around the corner, it's likely that the select-GM's of this League will gather for some festive drinks and shenanigans. Tree Bone and Sitch do operate their teams out of the same city and have been in constant contact with one another. Burgundy has historically paid Tree Bone and Sitch a visit during the holidays, and may do so again this upcoming holiday season. Dick Burns, Randy League's Man of Mystery, may or may not surface this holiday season; I've yet to hear from him since receiving a text in late November. I am hopeful to hear from him again soon, though he treats me the way he treats his ladies: brokenhearted. International superstar Safari will undoubtedly remain abroad, though he's been known to video-conference with the other select-GM's over the holidays when time permits.

As for Sir Fucking Randy, I'll be perfecting the hanging of Christmas lights, wrapping gifts with laser-like precision and carefully analyzing my newly purchased Roomba.

"Roomba? That's random," said Safari.

Yes, it was somewhat a random purchase. But Morpheus likes a clean living space, so the idea of having something autonomously cleaning intrigued me. I'll keep you folks posted.

Cordially,

Morpheus Randy

ROA 5 - the Bathhouse (Part 4)

The Buck (i.e. the young service man) walks me around the Bathhouse and to a drying area. It looks like a giant walk-in-closet with mirrors plated on each side of the wall; there's no escaping mirrors here.

"Should I go to the locker to get my clothes?" I ask the Buck.

"Oh, no not at all," says the Buck. He's young, about the age of you select-GM's, if I had to take a guess. I'm just realizing how young this man is as he speaks to me.

"What am I supposed to wear?" I ask, shyly. I only have a towel wrapped around me.

"I've got your robes right here," says the Buck, as he turns away for a moment to grab some golden cloths. It consists of a pair of long shorts and an oversized shirt, all golden.

Not exactly like this, but you
get the picture.

"Oh," I say, as I contemplate what Sir Fucking Randy would look like wearing golden robes. I am an authority figure, after all, so I am no stranger to being in formal dress, but gold is something I've never really worn before. I'm more accustomed to crisp white shirts and navy blazers, but a golden robe? This was going to be a new look, fo' shizzle.

I wait a moment, wondering what will come next.

"Please, dry yourself off in front of the mirrors," says the Buck.

"Alright," I say, with slight hesitation. This Buck is literally just standing upright, feet together, with his left arm resting at 90 degrees along his rib cage. I turn to the mirrors and begin drying myself off; I can feel my hair is still heavy from the shower and the rest of my body is damp. Suddenly, a set of five lights from above turn on and I'm temporarily blinded by light; the Buck has turned on these five spotlights for me and I'm completely naked in front of all these mirrors. There is no hiding anything.

"You have a great body," says the Buck.

"... Thank you!" I say, trying to make light of the situation.

At this point, I decide to give zero fucks. I mean, seriously, this Bathhouse requires a $40,000 CDN annual membership, so it's likely the most legit Bathhouse I"ll ever visit. Everyone here takes nakedness for what it is, and for fuck's sake I just had my balls craned by a Buddha. I've been exposed to the maximum already, so what's another few minutes of nakedness in front of a young serviceman? I drop my towel from my waist completely, bending over and drying my feet, shins and thighs, before bringing the towel to my hair and giving my head a thorough scrub. My naked bottom half is exposed to the spotlights, without a care in the world.

"Alright, I'm dry," I say to the Buck.

"Fantastic. Let's get you dressed."

I step forward in an attempt to grab the golden robes from him, but he pulls back.

"Oh no, Sir, please, let me dress you," he says.

Dress me? What do you mean, son?!

The Buck takes the golden pair of shorts by the waistline, stretches them out and places them gently in front of my feet. He bows his head down, waiting for me to tip toe one foot at a time into the shorts. I pause momentarily, somewhat shocked at the treatment. But with zero fucks given, I oblige and step into the shorts. Once both feet are in, he glides the shorts up until they sit on my waistline.

"Very good," he says. "Now the shirt..."

He actions for me to put my hands up and I do. He then pulls the shirt over my arms, head and it drapes down onto my body.

"Very good. Are you hungry?" he asks.

"Um... now that you mention it, yes I am," I reply.

"The businessman said he had scheduled a dinner for you both. I can take you to him," says the Buck.

He leads me again through a maze of marble, mirrors and taps before bringing me out to a lobby area. It's filled with comfortable sofas and golden robed individuals. Somehow the Buck had my glasses in his hand and gave them to me. I thank him, putting them on and spot my friend, the businessman. He's sitting ever so effortlessly at a round table, a lit cigarette in his left hand and a half consumed fruit drink in the other.

"Have a nice time?" he asks me, rhetorically.

"Oh, you have no idea," I respond.

"Hungry?"

"Yes."

He orders me a drink and we chat a bit longer. We laugh about my experience, and he tells me that everything the service people did was normal. A few minutes pass before a hostess brings us to our dinner. The remainder of the evening comprised of a good meal and a full body massage that was out of this world. No foul play, despite what you readers may be thinking; just an intense massage that made me understand what money can buy in this world. Sir Fucking Randy likes a damn good deep massage, so the masseuse even got up on her legs and did a body weight back massage for a portion of it.

I may never get such a massage again (pity), but I can now see why the super rich splurge on shit like that.

"Ain't you part of the super rich?" asked Burgundy.

Well, yes, I am. It's a byproduct of being a multi-Pulitzer Prize winner.

"Then why don't you splurge on it once in a while?" asked Tree Bone.

Oh, I have more important things to attend to. I was not born to consume things; I was born to write things.

"Wise words, Commissioner," said Dick Burns.

Thank you, Dick. Anyway, this concludes the ROA series. Hope you had fun reading.

Cordially,

Morpheus (ball-handled) Randy

WK8 - Century Crunch

Happy December everyone. After last week's mild temperatures and melting snow, we're getting hit this morning with your typical Canadian winter storm. Whiteout alerts are being reported all over the city and road conditions are poor at best. A trip to your local mailbox is now a parka affair and there's no guarantee you'll return home.

"I love Canada," said a sarcastic Tree Bone.

WK8 is now in the books, and Sir Fucking Randy would like to congratulate the first two select-GM's for hitting the Century Club. Sitch and Dick Burns are now over the 1,000 point plateau, though it is only a matter of days before the remaining select-GM's reach that mark as well.

With that said, we have a new leader. After three courageous weeks at number one, Dick Burns has fallen to second position, making way for Sitch to overtake the lead. He christened the event with a ceremonial "Century Crunch".

"Ooooo! Yeah! Uh-huh! Let's go!" shouted Sitch, while pumpin' to Enrique Iglesias. "Keep up that fffffform, bitches!"

Here are the stats, courtesy of the stats machine:

Sitch has taken the lead, but this week's top bread winner was actually Safari, who collected 149.85 fantasy points. Sitch was second with 142.30 fantasy points. The performances from both these select-GM's was admirable, considering League-wide point production for this week was down (average of 122.43 fantasy points).

Dick Burns still dominates PPGP with a 3.23, but this is down from last week (3.32). Safari was this week's most improved PPGP; he is now at 3.08, which is +0.07 better than his previous week. As the chart shows, PPGP is becoming extremely clustered; all select-GM's are falling into that 3.00 to 3.30 range. Will Dick be able to maintain his PPGP lead?

Adds McGuire: It's tough to say, but I think there's a lot of early goalie games baked into Dick Burns's PPGP. His players are doing slightly above average, but his goalies WERE playing out of their minds at the beginning of the season. However, hot streaks will end and goalie stats will fall as a result. We're seeing a slight regression now with Dick Burns when we look at the Rainbow. He still leads overall goalie PPGP with a 5.72, but it had been over 7.00 in mid-November. It's a product of the law of averages. It's a product of ebbs and flows. It's a product of hot streaks going cold. It's a product of --

Thanks, McGuire.

As stated, Sitch has made his way to the top for the first time this year. Safari has also moved a spot up to third after falling to fourth for one week.

"My team is a complete cluster-fuck" said Safari in a text earlier last week. "The production just isn't there. OV and the Capitals are not what I thought they would be, and I feel as though there are too many holes to plug on this ship."

I see your pain, Safari. With names like OV and Holtby, it's no wonder Safari's roster hasn't produced the way he's wanted it to. Holtby has been mediocre at best so far this season, and his stats have been hurt by lack of wins. OV, who was ranked #2 going into this year's draft, is currently ranked 22nd; this is a guy who should be consistently in the top 5 as far as I'm concerned.

But to all those who feel they are getting ball handled, I must simply say this: the season is still young. Seriously, we're only a quarter of the way through this thing, and lots can happen in the back end.

"Oh indeed they do," grinned a perverted Dick Burns.

Wise words, Dick.

ROA 5 - the Bathhouse (Part 3)

For the previous entry, see ROA 5 - the Bathhouse (Part 2).

When the businessman first ordered me a back scrub, I understood it as simply that, a BACK scrub. I didn't think it would entail anything else.

"... My front?" I question.

"Of course, sir," says the Buddha. "This is a fully body experience."

This service man - the Buddha - had just done an outstanding job scrubbing my back; like I said before, few things have felt any better than what I just experienced. So, I took his word. I turned my body so I was now on my back, facing up. I closed my eyes and let gravity pull my body into the massage table while the Buddha rinsed a few towels. I took a deep breath to relax.

The Buddha returns to attend my face. He scrubs gently, starting from my forehead and working his way through the bridge of my nose and cheekbones. He rotates my head left to right, cleansing around my neck and shoulders. I feel like I'm the catch of the day, a piece of fresh fish on a cutting board being scaled by a skilled chef. He scrubs my shoulders, my chest and stomach, rinsing along the way when he needs to.

Then, he makes his way to Sir Fucking Randy's thighs.

Well, you had to know this was coming, I thought. No big deal, all part of the process. He'll scrub you just fine.

He shimmies my towel so that all is exposed except my junk. He literally just covers Randy's joy stick and leaves my inner thighs exposed. I've never worn a bikini (despite being requested to by my secretaries on occasion while fulfilling their fantasies), but I can now imagine how it feels to be so revealed.

The Buddha works my hips, my quads and inches closer and closer to my inner thigh. Alright, he'll stop here, I say to myself, thinking there's very little real estate left before there's direct contact. Nothing more to do here! But he continues - masterfully - and heads inwards.

No... this can't be happening. This won't happen.

The Buddha stops. I knew it. That's as far as it goes, eh Buddha? Then, the Buddha re-positions my legs so that I'm doing the Reclining Goddess.

The Reclining Goddess

What the... I'm wondering what he'll do next. The only thing separating my junk from this Buddha is a layer - what I feel is an increasingly thin layer - of white cotton towel, and I'm fairly certain he can see everything even with the coverage. My legs are bowed and my thighs are seeing more light than they've ever seen before. There can't be any more than this. This must be it, right?

The Buddha scrubs a bit more, stabilizing my knees with his free hand while he washes with the other. Then, he shifts my towel so that one corner creates an overcast for my junk. Trying to make light of the situation, I ponder if he will ask me for a safe word.

But the Buddha doesn't. In a quick (and gentle) fashion, he proceeds to liftoff, craning my monstrous --

"Monster!" yells McGuire.

GOD DAMN IT McGuire shut the hell up! Don't ever interrupt me when I'm telling such an epic tale!

*ahem* The Buddha cranes my monstrous junk with his left hand.

Be gentle!

His left hand works against gravity, lifting my junk off of my exposed inner thigh and crotch; never has my junk felt zero gravity! My mind screams as it realizes the foreplay, my conscience is laughing at the chain of events, my eyes stretch open while my body remains still. What are you supposed to do when someone has a hold of your balls?

The Buddha continues, using his cotton-covered right hand to scrub the inner-most region. I stay completely still, not by choice, but because my body is in shock and my lower half has become numb. The ordeal lasts only a moment, but a moment nonetheless. He finishes his scrub, and gently lowers my junk back down, and gravity returns.

He walks away to rinse. I lie there, feeling like Jodie Foster in the Accused.

He returns and sets my legs down so they are straight again. He continues scrubbing my lower thighs, knees, shins and feet. It's as if nothing ever happened; just another day in this crazy bathhouse he calls his office. He finishes scrubbing my toes and rinses my body once more.

"All done," he says to me. "Please, feel free to take a shower to rinse off the excess skin. Feel free to take as long as you'd like."

"Thank you," I said. I get up, half waiting for him to tip me some money for his fun time (kidding). I grab a fresh towel, wrap it around my waist to shelter my finagled balls and head to the shower stalls. I'm in shock; Mr. Fucking Randy, who has a strict LADIES ONLY policy when it comes to junk contact, has just been ball-handled by a man. A Buddha man. As I walk towards the shower, my face says it all.

That. Actually. Happened. It sure did.

I get to the shower stall but the water isn't on. I look around and try to figure out what to do. Another service man, this time a youthful buck, comes to my side and greets me.

"I'll get that for you," says this youthful service man.

He turns on the water (using magic, I assume) and I enter the stall. I smell the soaps, I wash my body, I see little peels of skin roll down my body and swirl into the shower drain. My skin is buttery smooth and my junk is no worse for wear. That Buddha did an excellent - dare I say it - job.

I finish my shower and I'm more calm now. Hey, he was just doing his job. That's how things are done here, I thought to myself. If he hadn't cleaned the inner region of any other client, there would have been complaints. People expect to be pampered here. It is what it is.

I walk out of the stall and dry myself off. I'm done now, right? I must be. I've eaten a light snack, made my way through the pools without spectacles, had a full body back scrub and showered myself twice. Surely, this must be the end.

"Sir," says Buck (the young service man). "Let me guide you to the dressing area."

"Oh, um... Alright. Dressing area?" I ask.

"Yes, you must dry off. Don't worry, I have your robes ready for you. Right this way..."

Once again, Sir Fucking Randy must follow a service man blindly.

ROA 5 - the Bathhouse (Part 2)

For the previous entry, see ROA 5 - the Bathhouse (Part 1).

I follow the blurry figure. I can tell he is a man, and he's got a towel around his waist. Where the fuck did you get the towel? I wonder. Through my squinty eyes (because I cannot see, not because I'm trying to be Asian) I can make out his profile; he's not a tall man. He reminds me of a life-size Buddha; round, bald and with a belly.

"Businessman says your Mandarin is not so good," says the Buddha (the blurry figure).

"I'm working on it," I say, making light of the situation. "Just speak slow to me, and tell me where I'm supposed to go. I've not a clue, and I don't have my glasses."

"No problem, sir," says the Buddha. "Please, enjoy a shower first. It'll cleanse your body prior to entering the pools. Here, I'll turn it on for you."

I'm led around a marble wall and a stall with a shower head appears. The Buddha presses a few mysterious buttons on the wall and suddenly warm water begins spewing out. I hop into the stall, relieved to finally have some shelter for my naked body.

"Enjoy," says the Buddha, bowing as he walks away.

The soaps and shampoos are all labelled in Mandarin, and I cannot read them. I open the bottles and use my nose to determine what is what. Not many of you know this, but Sir Fucking Randy has a very accurate sense of smell, so deciphering what soaps to use was not a problem.

As I finish my shower, I look at the buttons on the wall. They are all foreign, mysterious and odd. I cannot tell what shuts off the water, so I begin pressing them one at a time. Nothing works; water continues to spew. Eventually, I just give up and tip toe out of the shower, hoping to find a bloody towel. To my surprise, I see a pile of them as I enter the main area where the pools are located.

Where have you been all my life?!

"Thank god!" I say under my breath, grabbing a towel. I dry myself off and whip it around my waist. Morpheus's dick has been swinging loosely for too long.

"Enjoy the pools," says the Buddha, appearing out of nowhere. "There are three temperatures: cold, warm and hot. Choose whichever you like, sir."

I am no stranger to hot and cold pools, so I know exactly what to do. I hop right into the warm pool, letting my body and mind recover from the last few minutes of confusion. There's another flat screen broadcasting financials news, so I catch up on some of that (as best I can, given that the broadcast was in Mandarin). Eventually, the warm pool starts feeling hot, so I decide to transfer to the cold pool. I hop out, dip into the cold pool and continue my relaxation. The cold pool had to be no more than 12 degrees Celsius. Damn cold, but damn good too.

"I am ready for you," said the Buddha from behind me.

"Oh," I replied, surprised. How the hell do you appear out of nowhere like that? Are you who I think you are? Batman Buddha?

I look back at him, squinty-eyed of course. "What are you ready for?" I ask, totally confused.

"Your back scrub, sir," says the Buddha, calmly.

"Oh, right," I say. Up until that point I had been confused as to whether this Buddha was a towel boy or something else. I know now that he's a service man, and he's about to give me a back scrub.

Given my North American background, I was under the impression that I'd be receiving a back scrub from a woman. But I found out (after this entire bathhouse episode) that bathhouses in Asia are divided based on sex. The men's section of the bathhouse is full of men (service men and clients) and the vice versa for the women's section.

Anyways, I follow Batman Buddha to through another maze of marble walls. He brings me to a cornered off area; there are a few buckets neatly stacked on the floor, a faucet with shower extension and a massage bed in the middle. It's well lit and cleaner than Sitch's house.

"No fucking way," says Sitch.

The Buddha unrolls a fresh towel from a cabinet and grabs a few other items. "Please, lie down," he says to me.

I make my way to the massage table and climb onto it. As I'm about to put my face in the hole of the massage table, the Buddha says, "Ready?"

I say that I am. He walks up beside the table, adjusts the towel around my waist, and begins scrubbing me. It is one of the greatest feelings I've ever experienced. His hands are wrapped in coarse cotton, and I can feel the layers of poutine-clogged skin rolling off my body. He works my neck and back before even scrubbing behind my ears. My shoulders, arms and legs all get the royal treatment and I can't believe how soothing it feels. Every few minutes or so, he stops to rinse my body with warm water before continuing his scrub. I am in heaven.

"OK so far?" he asks.

"Absolutely splendid," I say.

"Your Mandarin is quite good," says the Buddha.

"For now. If you spend more time with me, you'll see how bad it is," I say.

The Buddha chuckles and scrubs me some more. He gets to the arches of my feet and cleanses the skin between my toes.

"OK," says the Buddha. "Please turn over so I may do your front."

... What?