When will I ever learn?
Yesterday, two days after I returned from London, England, I had a full day of strange and baffling occurrences. And now, I have come to accept something really important. When you live abroad, or travel extensively, weird stuff just happens. Kind of like the world-famous 'shit happens' quote. I may have thought I reached my peak at 15 years-old in weird events and happenings, but really, I just started down the yellow brick road.
Firstly, I am alive, which is probably a good thing because I do not remember what happened to me on Friday. There is this whole 24 hour period which no longer exists in my memory. After, I returned from London, I brought along with me extensive exhaustion and perhaps some sort of virus. But on Saturday morning, just to be sure that I was perfectly healthy, probably for the upcoming trip to the South of France, my host father scheduled me an appointment at the Doctor's office.
Now, be aware, I hate doctors. Actually, I hate one specific doctor, my American pediatrician. (I am about to turn 18 -- haha! I never have to go back to her again!) You pretty much have to be on your death bed for her to prescribe you anything. Yet, after my experience with this French doctor, or whatever she was, I firmly believe that the American medical system in incredible. First, I told her my symptoms. Extensive exhaustion, a brief incident of throwing up, and just an all-around feeling of being sick. She then proceeded to listen to my heart, lungs, and butt. I kid you not -- she placed her stethoscope on my lower back and listened in. As if that was not crazy enough, she then pulled off my shoes and examined my feet. I figured there was a method to the madness, but then she started awing over the size of my blisters. At that point, I was done. I did not care if i was deadly ill, I could not sit in tis crackpot's office. Luckily, she too, was finished with the examination. She called in my host father and said that I was going to be just fine, except I was highly contagious.
But it does not end there.
She prescribed some medicine and then saw us out of the office. We next went to the local pharmacy
|M&M's or Flu medication? I honestly am not sure.|
After a long day of resting and doing nothing whatsoever, my host father decided to take me to the movie's. He knew how badly I wanted to see this one movie, while he would go and enjoy a French film. As for me, I was headed to see High School Musical 3. Now if you thought Zac Efron was a bad singer, Vanessa Hudgeons was whiney, Corbin Bleu annoying as heck, all in English, all I have to say is that you ain't seen nothing. Japanese Brear Rabbit does not hold a candle to Zac Efron speaking French and whining about his end of high school for 2 hours. A few things were going through my mind as I sat back and proceeded to be tortured by High School Musical 3.
- I have officially grown out of the High School Musical trilogy. I am done, and will never ever again be able to sit down and enjoy those awful movies again.
- The movie reminded me how much I disliked High School. At first, I felt upset that I had not had such a cool experience in High School. How come everyone is so nostalgic for High School, and seem to recall that time period as one of the best in their life? I look at as the worst form of torture. But I realize you really can not have it all. I choose Japan and France, over an awesome high school career. I win.
- Zac Efron is not cute at all, in English or French.