[by the way, note the intentional pretension of the verb "take." And imagine the object of the sentence pronounced "MASS-ahj," rather than "muh-SAHJ". . . . back to our regularly-scheduled post]
My regular masseuse got a big grin when I walked in, and went over to the music station, scrolling and punching through her iPod. She placed it back in the cradle. It was silent. I forgot about it, and prepared for my massage.
When she returned, she struck "play."
I got a 90-minute loop of various [at least five or six] recordings of the song Feelings.
Don't mix humour with massage therapy.