If anybody doesn't know what I'm talking about, I'm studying massage therapy. I work my gainful way through eight hours for my employers and their shareholders and then drive through the worst that Melbourne's peak-hour traffic has to offer to the far reaches of human inhabitance in the north eastern suburbs and then I'm supposed to provide relaxation during class? Pffft.
Still. If anybody needs a massage, we students—me included, regardless of the assessment last night—keenly want practice.