Here's how that should have gone:

Kat, lying face down on a massage table in a dimly-lit room: Wow...this is so nice....I'm so glad I'm trying out this deep tissue massage thing for my leg...I'm...so...relaxed...look at these nice little candles...amidst this room bedecked in tasteful Asian accent pieces...this feels great...I really feel all of that muscle tension just falling away...oooh, another Enya song. I wonder if massage therapists ever get sick of Enya? I would ask her, but then I'd have to talk...and that would be work...and this is sooooooooo relaxing...

When, in reality:

Kat, face stuck through donut-shaped headrest, eyes riveted to floor: ...she's touching my butt she's touching my butt she's touching my butt she's touching my butt...