In Which I Am More of a Spaz Than Usual

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I know, you probably didn’t think it was possible. However, yesterday I reached new heights on the spaz meter. While walking from the bathroom to my bed I somehow tripped over my own feet, slipped on my rug, had my feet go out from under me and landed hard on my right wrist and then my bum.  The wrist isn’t swollen but it is nice and tender and sore. My ankles have also felt better days. The doctors can tell me to stay away from adventure sports all they want but apparently nothing can save me from myself. 

I know, you probably didn’t think it was possible. However, yesterday I reached new heights on the spaz meter. While walking from the bathroom to my bed I somehow tripped over my own feet, slipped on my rug, had my feet go out from under me and landed hard on my right wrist and then my bum.  The wrist isn’t swollen but it is nice and tender and sore. My ankles have also felt better days. The doctors can tell me to stay away from adventure sports all they want but apparently nothing can save me from myself. 

After my wrist extravaganza I had a pretty decent chicken biryani (sp?) in Yangsan of all places. The movie was actually Zombie STRIPPERS not cheerleaders. In fact, for the first 10 minutes we didn’t even have to make up our own dialogues to make it funny there was organic laughter produced! Somehow the army girl always lost her top while fighting the zombies and ended up shooting away madly in her camo print bra. Such lines as “Zombies….shit,” were also fantastically delivered. My other personal favorite: ‘Prove you aren’t a zombie fast, say something deeply ontological!’ Unfortunately the next hour of the movie was as predicted, terrible. We thought the zombie strippers would act more zombie like! Instead they were just stupid girls who were starting to decay and had cravings for flesh.

And now I shall save my sore wrist from typing by printing out flashcards to laminate. Oh the riveting life of an English teacher.



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