Wednesday, March 28, 2007

My new language and the giddy girl.

As some of you know I"ve had a rotten cold pretty much most of the weekend and at last it is showing some sign of abating. However, much as I feel slightly better, there is still one area in which I am suffering. My speech. Or radder, by speedgh.
It seems every time I get a cold my head gets bunged up to hell and it takes DAYS for it to clear, rendering me ridiculous sounding. Country Gay refuses to speak to me on the phone as I sound,'weird' The paramour laughs when I ask him for things like "Bass de budder.' Even Etheline could not resist a denied snarf when I told her I couldn't go for lunch "becob I hab a colb" 'No shit' she said 'I would neber hab guessed.'
Quite frankly, I'm getting a bit tired of it all.
However, these laughy types are friends and family, so a certain amount of tolerance is required, plus a certain storing of ammunition should any of them ever be less than perfect in the future. Call me Rudolf all you want paramour, but some day vengence will be mine.
I do however take great exception to being mocked and laughed at by so called professionals!
I let my gym membership run down some months ago as I had taken to running in the park as so on, then Memnoch left for Hamburg and I- naturally-have used this time to eat cheese drink wine and generally take a break from most thing fitness.
But woe is me. For a quick skippity hop on the scales on the weekend suggests that my body is 'aving a laugh and storing fat like a rampant squirrel facing the ice age.
'Eeeeek!' I said to The bigger of the cats, 'By Mudder warned me did would habben! Ugh, what's dis? A sudden crabbing for jelly Babies! NOOOO!'
So, after tears and tantrums and sniffles and a completely blocked head due to the tears, I took myself off yesterday morning to join a new gym. It's near the house and I shall go every day to restore my body to it's previous state.
I parked in the huge carpark and entered the swing doors and approached the reception where a perky girl gave my red nose the once over.
'Hello' Perky girl said.
'Hellob!' I lied, 'I'm thinking of joibing your gyb.'
She began to laugh, 'Oh no, I'm sorry, but every second person today, hahhahha, seems to be heehhe smothering.'
'Yes, hilarious.'
'Did you want to look around?"
'Yes.'
She took me on a tour, and it was quite impressive, she was yip yapping as we poodled along. 'We doing a special once off rate at the moment and if you sign up now this covers you for full membership including our classes. Except the yoga and Pilates, they're extra.'
'Can I comb at abby stage during de day with did.... whooosh!'
'Hahhaha, yes.'
I blow my nose and frown at her, she is clearly delighted, or on speed. Also I notice she is Australian. perhaps that is it, for if my great knowledge gleaned from Home and Away had thought me anything it is that Australians are a strange bunch.
'The ladies dressing rooms are to the right and the pool has no shallow or deep end.'
I nod.
She looks at me, disapppointed. 'Do you have any questions?"
I shake my head.
'Okay then.'
We head back to the front desk and she hands me a sheet of rules and a sheet for my medical history. (where I resist writing 'born of a jackal' ) She's blathering on and I'm trying to think of words that don't have 'v', 'g' or 'th' in them.
'What about extra passes?' I say and beam for I said it in clear and concise English.
'You get three with this bag, oh and your locker key and a free hand towel is inside, after that it's twenty Euros a guest.'
'Ribe' I say.
''Heh, also we have a coffee dock and hairdressers.'
I scribble out my forms, fill in my John Hancock in total silence and pay. Before I can pass the paper back to her I am wracked with another of those VELLY annoying dry hacking coughs that seem to last for ages and leave me red faced and gasping.
I grab my bag and nod at her, making my way as fast as I can to the door, for I can feel a tickle in my throat, which means more coughing.
'Wait!' She cries, 'you need to have your photo taken for your swipe card.'
I skid to a terrible halt. Why, I berate myself silently, had I not thought of this,(sick) Why had I not worn make-up, (sick) Why God why? (agnostic)
She points to a chair and I fallump into it miserably. A small desk mounted camera points my way.
I try to push my hair back from my face, but the effort of walking, breathing and trying not to cough has made it sticky and uncooperative. It's almost cobwebby.
'Smile!' My perky gal from down under says.
I grimace at the camera.
'All done' she says, but now she's not smiling.'This will be ready in the morning.'
I flee, chocking , coughing, wooshing until tears run down my slightly swollen cheeks.
This very morning I went down to pick up my card.
I'm looking at it right this second.
At least I think it's me, I could also be looking at an eggplant, an aubergine, a radish of some sort. My effort to keep my cough in, combined with my radioactive nose and slitty swollen eyes has translated to the very worst photo I have ever seen of my in my entire life. I am a red faced beast, one of Dante's creations, a vermillion puffer-fish.
Fubbing hell.

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18 Comments:

Blogger Kav said...

It could be worse. You could look gorgeous in the photo and be a globulous beast in real life. That would be much more traumatic.

1:28 p.m.  
Blogger The Swearing Lady said...

Kav spakes the truth. And I don't need a cold to take a horrible photo; it's dreadful.

Why does everyone who works in a gym/spa have to be Australian?

2:07 p.m.  
Anonymous MacDara said...

You need to Live in a place like this, I recently had to get a new passport and so because the picture size has changed I needed new pictures. At the photographers he was unimpressed by the way I looked that day so he preceded to improve me by covering up a blemish, removing the bags from under my eyes and even giving my eyebrows a trim. All I need now is the passport back.

http://macdara.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!70F82F69C4299D35!2268.entry

2:21 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

MacDara that is bloody awesome! Photoshop airbrushed passport photos, tremendous. Mine is up this year, which is terrific, because I look like a Romanian child trafficker in my current one.

2:35 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Cheers Kav, you could be onto something there. Sweary you are correct, she is one of a number of Antipodean perky types I have found in the gyms over the years. Frightful in their chirpiness.

2:37 p.m.  
Blogger KnackeredKaz said...

Similar thing happened to me. Had to get my photo taken for a swipe card thingy for entry to the European Parliament in Strazburg(was there for a work thing around the time of the Nice Treaty) and it was awful.

Got lost and ended up walking to the parliament from the opposite end of the city (long story) with my bag. And my laptop. And my duty free. So naturally was puce, sweating, out of breath and generally elephant-like when I arrived. The resulting picture made me look like a jar of Ragu, with extra condensation.

Every single time I attempted to enter the parliament after that, the guard scrutinised my pic and questioned me endlessly. I don't blame him.

2:40 p.m.  
Blogger Caro said...

It could be worse, as Kav says. I got my hair cut at the weekend and everyone (literally) has been giggling at me since. I'm sorry now I resisted the urge to gouge the hairdressers eyes out with her obviously not sharp enough scissors...

Macdara - I just applied for my new biometric passport too and did the photos digitally - and my boss very thoughtfully offered to remove a few wrinkles for me (resisted urge to gouge out his eyes too).

3:22 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Wait, what kind of hair cut are we talking about here, a huge departure from the norm? Why are they giggling?

3:24 p.m.  
Blogger Caro said...

Big stoopid fringe. And a really weird length that looks like growing out a bob. Plus she sort of "layered" it and it sticks out all over the shop. It's just horrendous...

3:52 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

...oh, well never mind, I'm sure it will grow out soon.

4:18 p.m.  
Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

The air is thinner in the Northern Hemisphere and it makes all the Down Unders giddy when they come here, perky even. I think it's pills too.

Great story, cat, sweets! Thoroughly enjoyed your tale of woe, so I did. lok I never said I was a nice person now, did I?

Get well soon, lovey.

5:09 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

I'm trying to think of what swear word a vermillion puffer-fish might make, but all I have is 'Blub.'
Oh why must I work? I want to go lie down in my bed, perhaps with some tissue and hot lemon, a book and cleanish cat that doesn't need to lick anything. Wha wah.

5:16 p.m.  
Blogger finn said...

...then Memnoch left for Hamburg...
and it's a good thing, too.

5:18 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Yikes!
"A spokesman for the World Kickboxing Association said: "I have never heard of any such damage."

He added that amateurs, though not professionals, already wore head protection."
Ahahahahaha, no really, hahaahah. Yes we do, haha, all the time..titter, cough, hack. Well maybe if me n' Claire settle on a new place they will suggest it and we will be all agog.

5:43 p.m.  
Blogger Dr Maroon said...

Did you know that on that "contract" you signed they are allowed to use that photo as a "before" photo in their advertising? Thought not.

Yes I saw your offer re the olives the other night. My tremor's been back for two days now and I can't look at a jar of them without blushing.

I tried it with Mrs Maroon. "What the fuck are you doing with that salt you drunken idiot?" was what she said when she woke up.

8:12 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

You must not have been doing it right.

8:47 p.m.  
Blogger Dr Maroon said...

That was the next thing she said.

11:54 p.m.  
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2:48 p.m.  

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