Dirty Laundry 18

I was in physio therapy this morning.  It was the last day for the two students who have been working with my therapist.
While the one who's been working with me the last month was working on my knee taking measurements, the other one was sitting at the desk texting and swooning over her latest boyfriend.

My phone buzzed and I answered it. When I did, my student therapist leaned over pointing to the wallpaper I had and asked who they were.

Me-: "That's the celebrity. And that's The Other Guy."

ST-: "He looks familiar." she pointed to The Celebrity.

Me-: "You're a wrestling fan?" 

She shook her head and shrugged saying she never watches wrestling " I like his hair."

Me-: "It grows on you."

ST-: "Yeah, I don't know.  I swear he's really familiar."

Me-: "He's an international wrestling superstar, you could have seen him in an airport, or who knows."

She was called over to the desk for something and I guess from her body language, was telling the other student what we had been talking about.  The expression on the other female student went from smiley and up to down right hatred. 

We chatted a bit more just before I left, as she'd on a plane back to Southern Ontario tomorrow. 

ST-: "I think it's great your doing the wrestling stuff. No matter what anyone else thinks. It's obviously something you care about cause your face was just lit up when you were talking about it."

Me-: "Yeah, for the most part it's pretty damn cool. The down side is I have yet to get an interview. Nor have I had the chance to see The Celebrity wrestle live yet. Maybe one of these years."

ST-:"Speaking of celebrities, I know you're a vampire fan, what do you think about all that stuff in the news this morning about that twilight couple?"

Me-: "They're still just people."   I nearly laughed at myself when I said that.  Everyone is always reminding me that the wrestlers I happen to dig are still just men.  They still have the same issues the rest of us do, they just happen to have a spiffy spotlight to do most of it in.

I went to Starbucks for a few minutes after I got home.  Storm was out side having his smoke break. He was talking to me and I wasn't even listening.  Then he sat down on the ground, cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his hands up covering the rest of his face, one eye sort of peeking out.  Like how kids watch scary movies.  He was asking something about my apartment again.   I'm not sure what his obsession with where I live is about?
Do I even want to know?

And of course, while I was standing there listening to him, my right side started to itch.  So I know I sort of half smiled, Mr. Scratchy.