You guys know I’m basically Oprah, in so far as I believe it to be my responsibility to guide the human race toward enlightenment and joy. I’m always here for an encouraging word and advice. I’ll probably have my own TV network at some point. We know this. In the meantime, I would like to offer a little life nugget, a small word of wisdom, to you. Oprah tells us, “When you learn, teach.” That’s what is happening here. I’ve learned something and now I’m about to drop some teaching on you.

I have one rule, and one rule only, for success. This applies to anything and everything you want in life whether it’s business, relationships, money, career, family, parenting, or fitness.

Are you ready?

It’s a good one!

Here goes…

 

*Don’t accept free acupuncture from strangers*

Seriously. That’s it. If you abide by this rule at all times then success shall follow you. It might not be immediate or easy but it will happen. Trust me. Trust PatrickOprah.

Case and point:

I was once 20 years old. By that age I had seen some life or so I thought. In my mind I was grown, done with learning, new information, or evolving as a human being. I was evolved. I was informed. I was learned. I was also living at my parent’s house, eating their food, and enjoying free health insurance. At the time, I was a year or two into my studies at Georgia State University. And when I say “studies,” I mean “drinkies” but that’s just semantics.

While in the greenroom one day at GSU’s theatre, a friend (I use that term loosely) told me about this new app called Grindr. It was during the early wave of app dating so I didn’t have much context for what this was. When he showed me the app, I was floored. You mean to tell me that I can get virtually rejected in rapid succession?! I can get ghosted, humiliated, bullied, and catch an STD all in the same afternoon?! Sign. Me. Up.

I became almost immediately addicted to the app. It was mostly a sex app (still is) but I convinced myself that I would find my soulmate on there (still haven’t). It was titillating and humiliating all at once and on so many levels. My poor, chunky, awkward 20-year-old self was often on the receiving end of gay male cattiness, judgment, internalized hatred and outright rage. It was awesome!

One afternoon I lay in bed traveling down the dating app rabbit hole. I swipe and tap and double tap and double swipe until there’s zero moisture left in my eyeballs. That’s when I come across this dude. Let’s call him Mike. I don’t remember his exact name but he was a basic white guy so, statistically speaking, his name probably was Mike. So Mike and I are just chatting away as one does at 2 p.m. on a weekday. Our convo is very platonic, a novelty on an app that attracts the denizens of the underworld. He asks about school. We talk about the weather. He does not (I repeat: does NOT) request a picture of my genitals. I’m both comforted and freaked out by this. We discover we have a mutual friend.

In the midst of our conversation he asks, “Have you ever done acupuncture?” Random. Whatever. I’m into it. I had actually wanted to try it because I’m equal parts hippie and masochist. Rumor had it that acupuncture could help one lose weight. At that point in time all I wanted was weight loss and a hot man (still do). For some reason acupuncture seemed far more sensible than eating vegetables and getting on a treadmill.

He told me he was recently certified/licensed/authorized to acupunct people and that he “needed practice.” It became clear to me why our conversation had been so platonic. This dude was selling stuff. I laughed it off and told him that this college student couldn’t afford it. Then he said he’d do it for free.

Okay, now we’re talking. A free treatment that would turn me into an Adonis? That sounds right up my alley!

And just like that, I agreed to go to an unknown address and allow a complete stranger to put dozens of needles into my body. Thusly I got into my car and merrily drove to what could have been my murder.

My GPS tells me I’ve arrived at my destination. Was it the basement of a dilapidated building? A public park? A highway overpass? Fortunately it turned out to be an actual office in an actual medical office building. It was only once my car was in park that I start to feel a little nervous. Is this the best idea? Could something bad happen to me? Nah. We good. Weight loss. Let’s do it.

As I enter the generic medical office building, I pass by the office of Dr. Silverstein, DDS. Something about this was comforting. Hopefully the kind dentist would call the police if he overheard my screams.

I arrive at the correct suite. Big breath. I’m about to knock on the door when Mike suddenly swings it open. Is he psychic? Was he listening for my footsteps? What’s happening? We stand there in a moment of awkward silence, each of us sizing up the other. He’s wearing dark khakis and a patterned button-up shirt. He’s exactly the type of person who you would picture giving away free acupuncture to people he met on a dating app. He’s a little gangly, a little awkward. He doesn’t blink enough.

“Hey man,” I squeak out.

“Give me your arm?” Mike says, as he doesn’t blink. I’m confused whether this is a question or a statement. Either way I oblige.

I give him my left arm and he cradles it, like truly cradles it. We’re talking infant-style. My forearm is laying on top of his and he checks my pulse at the elbow crease. I look around the office while he does this. Everything seems legit. There are various plaques and diplomas on the walls. I see no signs that people have been murdered here.

After a few seconds…

“What was that thought you just had?!” Mike demands of me.

“Um, I don’t have thoughts,” I retort.

“You just had a very prominent thought.” This wasn’t a question.

Can Mike read my mind through my elbow pulse? What the fuck is happening?

“Stick out your tongue!”

I do what Mike says. He takes one look at my tongue. “How long have you been sleep deprived?!” 

Mike. Is. Pissed.

“Um, always.” I have no other words.

Keep in mind that we haven’t technically stepped into the office yet. I’m standing in the hallway of an office building with my tongue out as Angry Mike cradles my elbow and reads my mind. Dr. Silverstein could have walked by at any moment and witnessed this interaction. Part of me hoped he would.

Mike finishes assessing my tongue and we finally walk back into the office. My heart is pounding because it’s just now (yep, just now) starting to sink in how this was possibly a terrible idea.

The room looks like a hybrid dentist/massage therapy room. Everything was spotless which, on one hand, was comforting because no one wants an unsanitary acupuncture experience. On the other hand, Dexter. All his shit was spotless. That was kinda his whole thing. Then he dismembered people.

Mike tells me to get comfortable on the table. We navigate a mildly awkward moment where I ask if I need to get naked. He tells me to leave all my clothes on (not the first time I’ve heard that). He then goes into his acupuncting philosophy.

“There are three schools of thought with the regards to the needle: the Japanese, the Chinese, and the Korean. The Japanese believe you should never feel the needle. The Chinese believe you should only feel the needle upon entry. The Korean believe you should feel the needle the entire time. I subscribe to the Korean school.”

Ruh. Roh.

That’s okay. It’s fine. I can survive this. You knew what acupuncture was, Donohue! It’s needles in the body. The human body. Your human body.

He surveys my right ankle and wipes it down with an alcohol pad. I survey a little table that holds up all his instruments. There’s a massive container of individually wrapped, hermetically sealed needles. My heartrate quickens as he picks one up and begins to unwrap it. “Okay, I’m going to start on your ankle. You’ll feel a little prick but it won’t be too bad.” These are the first comforting words that Mike The Acupuncturist has said to me.

Okay. Here we go. This is happening. This won’t be too bad. People do this all the time. It’s an ancient practice. I should have researched how many people die from acupuncture. Oh well. Oh god. Here we go. What have I done? Should I look? Should I not look? HOLY FUCK IN HELL IS THAT SHIT?!?! OH MY DEAR SWEET GOD IN THE HEAVENS WHYYYYY!!!

I look down at my right ankle. There’s a needle in it and the site is pulsating. It’s as though my ankle has a separate heartbeat. It looks (and feels) like an alien monster is trying to bust his way out of my skin. The pain of it was messing up my breathing.

“That’s just your chi,” Mike The Sadist says in a low baritone.

“My what?!”

“Chi. It’s energy. Your body is just releasing it. Totally normal. Breathe.”

Homie this ain’t energy! This is a piece of metal hitting a nerve inside my sad body. I cannot get my breathing under control. Each inhale only takes in about 8% of the oxygen it needs to.

Mike drills a few more needles into my ankle bone and then moves on to my knee. All systems are firing. There are sirens and fireworks. Mike says some words but I can’t hear him over the sound of my chi being released. He inserts some needles around my right knee. Then I have to triage which hurts more, my knee (newly pulsating) or my ankle (still pulsating). Chi is being released all over the place. At this point it feels like my entire right leg might pulsate off my body and roll onto the floor. Forget the shallow breathing, my organs start to shut down. The room goes black and white. My ear lobes are sweating.

Mike continues his tour of torture around my body going from knee to elbow to shoulder to face to knees and toes knees and toes. I slowly start to float above the entire scene. In fact, I think I left the room completely. Maybe I was in the Upside-Down. Who’s to say.

By the time Mike made his way around to my other ankle, I was a shell of my former self. I look down and there are dozens (if not hundreds) of tiny needles sticking out of my body. It looked like a Patrick-shaped pincushion. Some areas were still releasing chi. Others appeared to be chi-ed out.

“Now, the next part might be a little uncomfortable.”

Suddenly I snap back into my body. The next part might be uncomfortable?! What in Sam fuck hell was the first part? Was that the comfortable part? I have sweat in between my toes and one of my lungs ain’t working right.

Mike is back at the original ankle examining his work. Ground zero. He seems satisfied and tells me it’s time to remove the needles (the uncomfortable part). As he slowly withdraws the very first needle, all the original pain comes flooding back. BOOM! More chi comes out. Holy guacamole batman, Mr. No Blinks wasn’t kidding about this being uncomfortable.

One by one the needles are pulled out. I’m spraying chi left and right. I’m suddenly very nauseous. There’s something sickening about how he removes the needles. That’s when I notice he does a slight twisting motion with each one. That was nearly my breaking point: the twisting. I almost jumped off the table and walked out. I would rather live the rest of my life with needles sticking out of me. It would be my schtick. Everyone would recognize me as the guy who halfway did acupuncture one time and still has needles sticking out of him. I could live with that.

Mike twists a particularly painful one out near my left knee. He holds it up to the light. “Hmm, that’s so interesting,”he says with dark fascination in his voice.

“Skjeh ydhdue kjdi333?” I mutter.

“A little bit of muscle tissue wrapped itself around this one.”

WHAT?! HOW?! THAT’S. NO. WAIT. CAN. IF. WHY!

First of all, I was unaware that I had any muscle tissue anywhere much less some by my knee. Second of all, I need all my muscle tissue sir! Look at how fat I am! Couldn’t you have taken some adipose? I got no muscle to spare. You put that back, you sick bastard!

Mike eventually twists and pulls all the remaining needles.

When he was finished, I just laid there. I felt like human taffy, like I had gone through a systematic process of skeletal deflation. Mike had used me as his personal voodoo doll. All my voo had been dooed. I was spent. I walked into that office hoping this one-time treatment would help me lose weight. That must have occurred because I felt paper thin. I felt nearly see-through.

I also felt enlightened. I was enlightened enough to know that I should never do acupuncture again.

As I searched for my shoes in a dreamlike state, Mike comments how great I did.

Um, really? How? Because I didn’t scream? Because I didn’t physically die on your table?

“I have something for you on your way out,” Mike offered up.

“That’s so nice but you have already gone out of your way [to destroy and mutilate my body]” I respond.

“These should help you with your sleep problems,” Mike says as he passes me a small bottle of pills. “Take two in the morning and two at night.”

Awesome. Not only did I allow a stranger I met on a dating app to stab me repeatedly with tiny needles but I was now accepting a bottle of pills from him. My parents must be so proud.

I look down at the bottle. There are no words on it, only a tranquil watercolor scene of a few Asian women collecting water by a stream. I thank Mike profusely for stabbing me and giving me drugs. He does a tiny bow. I physically run to my car. It was more of a trot actually. With all my chi gone, trotting was my only option. I pass by Dr. Silverstein and envy whoever is in there getting a root canal.

Once in the car, I open the pills. They’re shiny, tiny black things smaller than a tic-tac. A moment of clarity washes over me. I shouldn’t ingest these. I throw the bottle away. There wasn’t a stitch of writing on the outside of it and for all I know those pills could have given me a tail.

So there you have it folks. My number 1 rule to success. Always say no to free acupuncture from strangers. Then also say no to their unlabeled bottles of pills. Neither is probably good for you.

Also, I’m now suspect that one acupuncture session will help you lose weight. Just throwing that out there.