Saturday, January 19, 2013

Allegedly

Not to steal Kathy Griffin's catch phrase, but there is a lot of stuff that I need to tell you that I can't prove. For example, I may or may not be thrilled to have gotten a lot of phone calls last week and find myself doing a ton of personal training at my house on the sly. This may have rendered me exhausted and gratified at the same time. But I can't tell you that for sure.

What I can tell you for sure is that I got a call from an ex-student who has moved on to the new gym that is named something that rhymes with Maroon. The owner of that gym may be reopening as a gym for the third time without having repaid the clients their subscription money from the last time they close the doors for back payments in rent. That is how I heard the story, but I could have heard it wrong, mind you. I don't want to work for Maroon because I already know that the boss is allegedly a crook. Nevertheless, when I heard that this student bragged about me and got me this guys' cell number I had an idea. I could now have an excuse to call the big, fancy Ego gym and tell them that Maroon wanted me. This landed me an interview for next week with Ego, which is good. But now I have, allegedly, all these commitments for personal training, and as an employee of the Ego gym I would have no say in my work schedule as they decide everything. Before getting myself in trouble for a second, or is it the third time by signing a contract I don't understand, I made an appointment with our commercialista/accountant. At this meeting he agreed to review the Ego contract before I sign it and he told me in no uncertain terms (wink wink) that I should not do personal training at my house without a partita IVA so that I can give almost a third of what I make to the Italian government for taxes. He lost a little bit of ground authority wise with us when at the end of our meeting, he told F that if F paid him with a check he would have to use his partita IVA and so we would have to pay an extra sum towards taxes, but that if he paid him in cash he would fudge the amount that he got paid and say it was only fifty thus saving us from having to pay more than necessary. ALLEGEDLY.

Other issues with the Ego gym are that the bus which does, in fact, stop right in front of the gym, does not run often enough to be any use to me and so I will be dependent on F driving me or I will have to walk 52 minutes to get there through streets with no sidewalks and over a bridge. They are fancy and snobby and they demand exclusivity so that you don't work teaching exercise for anyone else while you are employed by them, which I fear includes doing illegal personal training out of your home. ALLEGEDLY. Last time I interviewed with them I wasn't in a position to give them an exclusive agreement and the big boss man came down and looked at me to see if I was pretty enough to work for them. My life is planning for me to be bloated and filled with pimples on Tuesday morning so I have to both avoid all salt and sugar except for puttanesca (don't look up what this word means if you don't already know) sauce and go visit the German Barbie skin doctor this weekend as a preventative measure.
I stole this photo off the internet. (ALLEGEDLY)
It may be the case that one of T's friend's mothers said she would like to start an exercise business with me, but after we investigated possible spaces we realized that the best idea would be to find someone with a room in their home large enough to host us because the insurance rates otherwise are astronomical. ALLEGEDLY So this other ex-student of mine who is also kind of a stalker typer, but you didn't hear it from me, offered me her place in exchange for free personal training which I am not of course in the practice of providing to anyone, let alone in my place of residence. But I can't make any decisions on that until I know if I have to leggo my ego or if Ego wants to have me. It is very Indecent Proposal like, if you get my drift.

Today we went to the hospital for a check up on T's insulin pump data and it showed that she has too many highs and lows even though her average number is excellent. It was very frustrating, as we are all doing the best we can, but this week we have to try to make fewer corrections so that the doctors and technical guys can analyze her data better and help us to have more consistent glycemic values.

This is T telling me that
the boy in the doctor's office
was scratching his
butt.
In other news, I am doing that stupid, reckless thing of setting my friend up with a guy at a dinner party on Sunday night at my house and since he is the brother of one of my VIP clients and she is one of my best friends, I am going to get screwed on this front unless they get married and have a baby immediately and live happily ever after. BUT I CAN'T HELP MYSELF because they would look so cute together and I have a good bride's maid speech all ready. In the meantime, I am making the one thing I know how to cook by myself which is a killer puttanesca sauce. It has to be made two days in advance and I am going to go out on a ledge and say it is a love potion because I made it for F at a surprise birthday party I threw for him before we got married. The last guy I introduced this friend to was allegedly a stalker type with the maturity level of a tadpole and so I am going into this with my name somewhat soiled. She is the most fabulous human being you could ever want to meet, but her last relationship was with the Italian equivalent of Lance Armstrong. Furthermore, the guy I am fixing her up with  has a tae kwon do tournament to attend that night and will be arriving either very late or in many pieces.

This just in: The other couple who would even everything out and make it seem less weird can't make it that night. Why me?

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