Thursday, December 06, 2012

Gangnam Style Flu

We got the flu shot, but the bugger didn't die. It got us in its ache upon ache, fatigue and snot filled grip. I cannot imagine how bad it is going to be for everyone I know here because almost no one I know got the flu shot other than us; and it is horrendous even at half mast. T and I HAVE NOT LEFT THE HOUSE SINCE FRIDAY. F has left the house, but luckily he was the least inFLUenced.  In some ways this has not been so bad. T missed her math test and I have been able to avoid the multitude of requests to learn all of the ridiculous moves to the dance video of Gangnam Style. Tomorrow we re-enter the world and I have to teach this to a bunch of a very popular culture obsessed Italians. Giddeeup, gente.

After wasting an obscene amount of time on youtube, I narrowed down my zumba models to a combination of these two:

In Italian you say Sono influenzata to say that you have the flu which makes it sound like not only are you sick, but that you have fallen in with a bad crowd. I hope I didn't get the whole staff of the gym sick the night of the party. I am pretty sure they drank too much to put two and due together. Also there is no blame game here for the spreading of germs. No one gets sick days unless you are at death's door or like me cannot get out of bed without whirling or hurling. Also our gym has been out of soap in the ladies' room since two weeks ago and the dispenser does not work, and neither does the hand drier. Every time I have to pee I end up picking up people's toilet paper scraps up off the floor out of a sense of pride in my workplace, but it makes me wonder what kind of origami these chicks are doing with their overly manicured nails in there to cause such a clear absence of paper etiquette. I am buying stock in hand sanitizer. It gives a false sense of security and is counter productive in a way that soothes my soul.

I will start the day tomorrow by visiting my German goddess of clear skin doctor out in Pietrasanta where she is going to rip off the top layer of my face using a sheet of plastic and a magic mask and probably some pink Barbie shears. She warned me that my face will be red for several days, but I still have to bring my now flabby and achy self to the gym, covered in skin colored foundation so I can gallop in place for the masses. For those who said that I should quit to promote F's website initiatives or to teach English so that I could actually earn some decent money, I say, nah, that would be too easy. Actually it is not easy to round up English students as you might think, and I really don't enjoy teaching children, which is inevitable.

T continues to have glycemic values that are on a roller coaster ride which keeps F going up and down the stairs all night to her room. Her new supplies for her sensor have not arrived and there is the chance that in a few short days we will not have the added benefit of the sensor because there is a limit on how many we can have a year. Actually, they say we can only have enough for half the year. Tomorrow she has to re-enter the world because she has one of her last orthodontist appointments before the braces can finally come off.

T discovered a high school that specializes in early childhood education that she is interested in attending rather than the linguistics specialized school that was her first choice up until now. They both seem to have decent academic foundations to the curriculum apart from the specialties, and I think she can take Latin in both to help her with SATs. She will go on some tours and we have to make a decision by the end of January and fill in the applications.

F plays the same 13 Kpop songs on a never endling loop and he has now posted a Kpop page on Pinterest which is a cyberspace scrap book of materialistic madness that sucks your time like a cherry blow pop and then eats the stick. I love it. Thanks, Meagan. His code name is Fbird Tallson. These are sad, sad times, gente.

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