This morning I was an un-eager participant in our annual CSEPP drill at work. Basically, if someone bombs the Tooele Weapons Depot, and your skin is melting off from mustard gas, I'm your gal. Of course we only practice a couple of times a year, and I can really only stand 10 minutes of being duct taped into my Tyvec suit. Certainly nothing makes a claustrophobic chick, like myself more comfortable, than having a hood taped snuggly around my face with only a small, Plexiglas window view, out to the mustard gassed world.
Thank goodness today was only a drill. My commitment to the duct tape suit lasted only about an hour and a half. That borders on being about an hour and 25 minutes to long, especially if you have recently had Mexican food, check, or sweat like a mutha, when sealed in a tight blue tarp, double check. I always have wondered what the victims will think, when they see this large blue bubble with a respirator and hood, come toward them in a sort of awkward moon bounce, only to strip them naked, out in the ambulance bay, and hose them off for all to see. Of course if you are debilitated by the gas, we will just throw you on the meat roller,(I do not lie, that is totally what it is called), and send you through the indoor shower that looks identical to the gas chambers at Dachau. Either way, it totally beats the last option, and that is if you are simply dead, I will just put a black zip tie on any appendage that is attached to your corpse and nudge you outta the way.
After doing my time in the sweat lodge, I met my favorite cuz, Annie, for lunch and some shopping, which I don't particularly love. Lunch, yes. Shopping, not so much. Annie is a drop dead gorgeous red head, petite as all get out, and an incredibly stylish babe. I on the other hand, am six feet tall,(since 6th grade), curvy, (ha ha), and my wardrobe consists of jeans, and sweatshirts, mostly of the construction advertisement types. I really only have one penchant for fashion, and that is a great pair of sexy beotch boots. I had a great stroke of luck today when I was wandering down the aisle's at Ross:Dress For Less. I found some seriously beotchin' boots. I immediately tried them on, which is trickier than it sounds, since they were zip tied really tight to each other, and they had 3" heels. Lucky for me, I only teetered once and did not start a domino effect of the shoe racks, when I did a penguin-like shuffle around the aisle to find Anne. She came running around the other side, breathless and excited about her new find, and then stopped abruptly to see that I was indeed wearing the same boots. Neither pair had a price tag on it, but as we checked out across from each other, the boots rang up at $16.99. We were both shizzing our schaps. What a find.
Still glowing from my purchase, I went home to find the sprinkler guys filling in all the trenches in our yard. Yesterday, when I went to Heber to do Gram's shopping, I let Dylan go into the store with me and after we had successfully acquired all the important things on Gram's list, we got sidetracked by the Halloween display. I let Dyl talk me into buying some bloody legs to put in the sprinkler trenches as a joke on the workers. He really didn't have to talk very hard, as I am a sucker for bloody body parts, fake or real. I also purchased some glittery nail polish and some adult-y temp tatts for myself, but forgot anything of substance for dinner. Anyway, when I surveyed the yard, all the trenches had been filled in, but no bloody legs to be seen. Due to the language barrier, I traipsed through the mud and started pointing to my legs and motioning at the area where we last left the legs. It was...... no bueno. I started digging through the dirt until I found a bloody pant leg. By this time all the workers were gathered around me, watching as I unearthed the legs. When I finally had wrestled them free, I held them up and tried to explain the joke. It was....... no bueno. I think the hilarity was lost in translation, or maybe they thought they were doing me a favor, by burying the body.
Emma woke up early from her nap, so we walked up to the bus stop to wait for the boys. We beat the bus there, so Emma and I crouched down in the bushes, so that we could scare the boys when they walked past. They do it to me all the time, so I was ready to make even. We were hidden perfectly, and could see the boys approaching, when I heard the following conversation:
Dawson: Hey Dyl, You're a ba-gina. (lots of laughter)
Dylan: What?
Dawson: Do you know what a ba-gina is?
Dylan: No.
Dawson: Tanner told me it's like when boys get kicked in the....(then points to his groin)
Dylan: Nuts?
Dawson: Yeah, but for a girl.
Dylan: Oh.
This is when I leaped out and yelled sur-PRISE! They both almost jumped out of their skin, which was the reaction I was hoping for, and then both boys looked instantly guilty. I let them look that way for the rest of the way home. I asked them all about school and lunch and made small talk, but kept smirking at Dawson in a way to let him know he wasn't off the hook. When we got home, I had a great politically and anatomically correct conversation about boy and girl parts with Dawson, and let him know he could always ask me questions if he was concerned about something. He didn't have any inquiries today, but I could see the wheels a turning.
Thank goodness today was only a drill. My commitment to the duct tape suit lasted only about an hour and a half. That borders on being about an hour and 25 minutes to long, especially if you have recently had Mexican food, check, or sweat like a mutha, when sealed in a tight blue tarp, double check. I always have wondered what the victims will think, when they see this large blue bubble with a respirator and hood, come toward them in a sort of awkward moon bounce, only to strip them naked, out in the ambulance bay, and hose them off for all to see. Of course if you are debilitated by the gas, we will just throw you on the meat roller,(I do not lie, that is totally what it is called), and send you through the indoor shower that looks identical to the gas chambers at Dachau. Either way, it totally beats the last option, and that is if you are simply dead, I will just put a black zip tie on any appendage that is attached to your corpse and nudge you outta the way.
After doing my time in the sweat lodge, I met my favorite cuz, Annie, for lunch and some shopping, which I don't particularly love. Lunch, yes. Shopping, not so much. Annie is a drop dead gorgeous red head, petite as all get out, and an incredibly stylish babe. I on the other hand, am six feet tall,(since 6th grade), curvy, (ha ha), and my wardrobe consists of jeans, and sweatshirts, mostly of the construction advertisement types. I really only have one penchant for fashion, and that is a great pair of sexy beotch boots. I had a great stroke of luck today when I was wandering down the aisle's at Ross:Dress For Less. I found some seriously beotchin' boots. I immediately tried them on, which is trickier than it sounds, since they were zip tied really tight to each other, and they had 3" heels. Lucky for me, I only teetered once and did not start a domino effect of the shoe racks, when I did a penguin-like shuffle around the aisle to find Anne. She came running around the other side, breathless and excited about her new find, and then stopped abruptly to see that I was indeed wearing the same boots. Neither pair had a price tag on it, but as we checked out across from each other, the boots rang up at $16.99. We were both shizzing our schaps. What a find.
Still glowing from my purchase, I went home to find the sprinkler guys filling in all the trenches in our yard. Yesterday, when I went to Heber to do Gram's shopping, I let Dylan go into the store with me and after we had successfully acquired all the important things on Gram's list, we got sidetracked by the Halloween display. I let Dyl talk me into buying some bloody legs to put in the sprinkler trenches as a joke on the workers. He really didn't have to talk very hard, as I am a sucker for bloody body parts, fake or real. I also purchased some glittery nail polish and some adult-y temp tatts for myself, but forgot anything of substance for dinner. Anyway, when I surveyed the yard, all the trenches had been filled in, but no bloody legs to be seen. Due to the language barrier, I traipsed through the mud and started pointing to my legs and motioning at the area where we last left the legs. It was...... no bueno. I started digging through the dirt until I found a bloody pant leg. By this time all the workers were gathered around me, watching as I unearthed the legs. When I finally had wrestled them free, I held them up and tried to explain the joke. It was....... no bueno. I think the hilarity was lost in translation, or maybe they thought they were doing me a favor, by burying the body.
Emma woke up early from her nap, so we walked up to the bus stop to wait for the boys. We beat the bus there, so Emma and I crouched down in the bushes, so that we could scare the boys when they walked past. They do it to me all the time, so I was ready to make even. We were hidden perfectly, and could see the boys approaching, when I heard the following conversation:
Dawson: Hey Dyl, You're a ba-gina. (lots of laughter)
Dylan: What?
Dawson: Do you know what a ba-gina is?
Dylan: No.
Dawson: Tanner told me it's like when boys get kicked in the....(then points to his groin)
Dylan: Nuts?
Dawson: Yeah, but for a girl.
Dylan: Oh.
This is when I leaped out and yelled sur-PRISE! They both almost jumped out of their skin, which was the reaction I was hoping for, and then both boys looked instantly guilty. I let them look that way for the rest of the way home. I asked them all about school and lunch and made small talk, but kept smirking at Dawson in a way to let him know he wasn't off the hook. When we got home, I had a great politically and anatomically correct conversation about boy and girl parts with Dawson, and let him know he could always ask me questions if he was concerned about something. He didn't have any inquiries today, but I could see the wheels a turning.
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