Zumba on Flexeril and Karma for the Electric Slide Part II

In case you missed Part I, and to save you from having to scroll down, the short version is almost three weeks ago, I was struck with some lower back spasms on the left side I’ve experienced every two years for the last 35 only to finally find out from my massage therapist it’s called piriformis syndrome. This is a fancy name for the muscle involved, which in my case, has nothing to do with the back, of course, but… wait for it… my fat ass. Of course. This will save you lots of reading on the last blog.
Usually these bouts only last a few days, maximum a week, but this one has lasted over two weeks. Normally a couple of trips to the chiropractor and a little old fashioned stoicism nips it in the bud but this time it took the full Monty, including some Flexerils. Generally, I’m against taking medication except for recreational purposes, but I will take it for medicinal purposes if absolutely necessary. There is something about having to have a note to get medication that’s annoying to me. It was like having to have a note in school to go take a piss. Like if you didn’t get the note, you weren’t going to pee. I always kind of wondered why, as obnoxious as middle school students were, that they didn’t just revolt against the whole note thing and just pee all over those classrooms. No sense of revolution I guess.
Anyway, I had to back off the yoga classes for a little while, partially because it was suggested and partially because, when I tried to attempt a yoga pose, I found myself screaming loudly like Al Pacino at the end of Godfather III when his daughter gets shot and I thought that might be disturbing to the other yoga students. I did however, continue to go to Zumba class, because Dale plays the music so loud no one would notice I was screaming. I was right. I did however notice that the combination of Zumba and Flexural created an altered state which may NOT have been a good idea. For example: here was my thought pattern in Zumba class on flexeril:
Dale is playing yet ANOTHER song which I do NOT know the routine to but everybody else seems to. OMG. How many of these songs can there possibly be in her f#%*ing repertoire that I am going to have to learn? “The number π is a mathematical constant that is the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter, and is approximately equal to 3.14159. It has been represented by the Greek letter “π” since the mid-18th century, though it is also sometimes written as “pi” (/paɪ/).
Being an irrational number, π cannot be expressed exactly as a ratio of any two integers (fractions such as 22/7 are commonly used to approximate π but no fraction can be its exact value). Consequently, its decimal representation never ends………” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pi meaning her collection of these is probably infinite. (and kids in math class say, “when am I ever going to use this stuff”. (Wow, I think, I need another 5 milligrams of this flexeril when I get HOME!!!)
So, I confess, I prayed, “Lord, why am I subjected to this NEVER ENDING parade of songs I have to learn new routines too” when to my surprise, the booming Charlton Heston Ten Commandments Voice said, “Remember all those Hospital Conventions where you made fun, in your head, of those folks dancing the Electric Slide and Other group line dances?” “Ruh Roh”, I thought. “This is some bad karma mojo. But, it was all silent mockery”, I prayed. Silence. “How long will this last”, I asked “How many conventions was it”, she said. OMG (sorry for the ‘your name’ in vain, I thought). That’s 1-4 conventions a year for 30 years. That’s like 90 classes. Good times. I definitely need another 5 miligrams when I get home.
You know, come to think of it, maybe a back spasm every two years and a note for some drugs is not a bad thing after all.
“We all live in a yellow submarine”.