Monday, February 18, 2013

Me and my Big Mouth
Man, that Beyoncè: Life is but a Dream documentary really did not disappoint. Completely inspired by it, I taught a 4 PM class at the fancy gym. My friend Alessandro gave me a lift so that I could warm up, that is dance, for an hour beforehand. The coworkers who don't hate me, really think I am weird. But I am all Beyoncè about that now, and I am okay with them talking about me behind my back as long as it does not compromise my artistic integrity. Just kidding. It is pretty lonely being new. Anyway, the thrilling thing about the fancy gym was that at four in the afternoon, I had twenty students. After work, my boss told me that my contract is not ready yet. I forgot to ask him for, at least, a sweatshirt. Kristina got a free one from the owner. As he handed it to her, I tried not to look too jealous. I'd settle for a tee shirt. All my coworkers are in uniform so it is a bit weird. What would Beyoncè do?

The gym owner Sig. Malfatti is on the far right. I want that sweatshirt, Kristina. (I am nowhere to be found.)

While I was waiting at the reception desk after work, I started to get worried about missing my bus home. They don't run very frequently. The man who told me what time it was said he was also going to take that bus. His name was Cristiano. He had one wonky eye and he spoke very slowly and had a weak handshake. I liked him instantly. He may have a mental health issue, but don't we all? He didn't want to walk with me to the bus stop because I told him I had to talk with the boss first and he, justifiably, did not want to make promises to strangers. He seemed happy to see me there and we had a nice conversation with the only weird part being that he kept feeling my bicep, telling me how strong I was, and challenging me to an arm wrestle next time we see each other. Otherwise, he did not sit with me on the bus, after showing me where to validate my ticket, and he was quick to say goodbye at the last stop, so I think my instincts were right and he is a decent guy with a keen interest in arm wrestling.

As I was leaving the gym, the boss said: be prepared. For what? I am going to be teaching sexi chair burlesque class now that Kristina has left the building. That is the way to be voted most slutty right off the mark. Good luck making friends with the other female instructors now, right? Oh me and my you know what. The funny thing about all this sexi business is that my students are for the most part middle aged women with bad knees, hips, or backs who want to regain mobility, strength and flexibility without being bored to tears. I mean that's sexi or sexy, but in a really PG kind of way. That is, until I have to start teaching burlesque. I have no idea how to count and be alluring at the same time. This has the potential to be really, really embarrassing. Yay blog fodder, but, you know, boo otherwise.
I am on the bottom right and Kristina is in the top middle. This was from sexi chair class.
My boss Giacomo.
Last night we broke the only device that allows us to refill T's insulin reservoir. I have no idea why we only get one of those twisty pens, but poor F had to drive to the hospital to get us a new one first thing this morning. It was a successful mission and all is well. Then on his way home, he got a key tip off from Melissa, Natasha's mamma, that today was the day to sign up for teacher meetings and he got us all signed up on the first try. Tonight I am going to do a Bioenergy treatment on Kristina's knee and tomorrow I am treating a friend of a friend's colitis. Things are about to get even weirder . . .

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