when shit hits the fan...and my foot.

Achtung: The combination of the winter season and shit can be fatal.

After a what seemed to be a century of work in the office, I finally ended with enthusiasm of what the evening might bring. I was suppose to meet my English friend David, a violinist, who called me up in the morning to say that he is the coast after a 3 day stint in San Sebastian and was aching to see me. So, I pulled all my gear, put on my scarf and my heavy coat ready to wage war with the chilly air outside that I can never be accustomed to.
When I finally got out of the door, It was not the biting frost that almost made me faint. It was the diabolical smell of...SHIT! It turned out that they were working on the septic tank in our office as it hasn´t been fixed for days due to heavy rain.
So, barely breathing,half asphyxiated, I ran to where our car was parked. On the pathway,an anaconda-sized septic tank hose was lying as if waiting for it´s next victim. I confidently sashayed down to the carpark where my Argentinean officemate (he´s straight and married but hey, you would not know what luck might bring!) was waiting for me to give me a lift.
And then the unthinkable happened: The step of death.
The hose, suddenly did its deadly suction, moved to the hilt, and whipped my foot like Linda Carter with her magic lasso in her wonder woman heydays. The next thing I knew I was down on the floor with white pain shooting up until my head! Man, I cannot remember the time I lost my cherry but I´m sure this was far more painful than that! Good thing, the hose didn´t explode or anything or else I could have been in a more shitty and embarrassing situation!

So, I lost my poise, my grace and style. Good thing Ariel (the Argentinean stud) was a real gentlemen and helped me until I reached home. I felt like a total damsel in distress. All the way home, he was like, ¨├┐ou´re gonna be fine¨..don´t worry about it¨ . I was thinking, honey, a little kiss would be a lot more helpful than that. But I was in deep pain, flirting was the last thing on my mind.Once home, I turned off my phone in case David the Violinist would call and painfully dreamt of his Stradivarius renditions instead.

It has been more than a week now since I had my accident and obviously, my foot is still in bandage. I hope there wouldn´t be any of the prince charming´s butlers around, asking everyone to try the magical shoes because even Ru Paul´s size 50 Manolo Blahniks wouldn´t fit my elephant foot right now! Gosh!

Anyway, this accident made me appreciate the unappreciated end part of my long svelte legs. When it gets to heal, I promised to have it pampered like how Paris Hilton pampers her dog--luxurious. However, blood clots and bone misalignments did not stop me from going out (well, yeah..for a week I din´t go out but one has to rest. I AM NOT A MACHINE. I AM JUST GORGEOUS).
Last night, in the blistering cold, my Spanish friend and I hopped to town and join the last day of the 2 day vacation week (You say, Mrs. Macapagal Arroyo is addicted to giving holidays? In Spain, there is at least 2 working holidays each month!). At the end of the night..I was able to practice my 3-second flirting skills (THAT would be another topic altogether) and thanks to my badly bruised foot, I got almost everyone´s attention---¨awwww...poor thing....your foot...how did get it..what´s your name?¨
Hit me baby one more time.