I drink wine sometimes.

My Acupuncturist

November 14th, 2008

My acupuncturist is awesome. He’s managed to help me take a lot of the edge off the knee pain. He asks me intuitive questions that none of my HMO-Hospital Doctors ever do and that I never think to bring up, like “How do you sleep?” and “You sometimes have heart palpitations, don’t you?”. He’s pegged my nervous personality and calls me out on it. He’s aware of the fact that it is insanely hard for me to relax any muscle in my body. And he sticks needles into my soft fleshy bits. It’s kind of creepy, but very cool.

My acupuncturist works out of the back of a crystal shop, which I initially thought was very weird. But then I remembered I used to get bikini waxes in a shed behind a woman’s house when I first moved to LA, so maybe I shouldn’t judge. Also, the metered parking in front is only a quarter for an hour and you can’t really beat that.

My acupuncturist has some inspirational art on the walls. After he’s done looking at my tongue, taking my pulse and sticking me with needles, I’m left alone for about 15 minutes. If turn my head to the right, I look at a lovely photo of a beach and a boardwalk. If I turn my head to the left, there is a poster with sky, a river and mountains with an inspirational quote in a generic new-agey script font. It is kerned wrong. And while I’m trying to relax, trying to let the needles do their job and using this time, this precious mid-work-week break, to just chill out a little bit, a part of my brain is screaming “ITS THAT FONT YOU HATE AND IT IS DONE WRONG!”

Do you think there is an acupuncture point for relaxing the anal retentive typography dork screaming in my head?

Okay, Roger. Your turn.

Tags: acupuncture, typography

Entry Filed under: all the pretty thoughts