Well, here I am 3 days after I said I wouldn’t be writing anymore, so I must have something important to say. Brace yourselves: Firemen are hot. Never really got into them before–I mean, I understood all the hype, but it just wasn’t my thing. But today, when I was grocery shopping in the produce section of Wal-mart, about 10 firemen came breezing through the door, at the same time, shoulder-to-shoulder, in their little navy blue day-clothes, and, I swear to God, they were walking in slow-motion.
Really. Slow-motion. It was like I was seeing firemen for the first time. And who knew that even po-dunk firemen could look so good? I think I even saw their hair blowing in the wind…of the store.
I don’t know when it was that I stopped doing what I was doing (fighting with Merrick and trying to pick out a decent eggplant), and I don’t know exactly how long I stood there blatantly staring at the firemen with my mouth wide open, but I do know that I only snapped out of it when one of them laughed and waved at me.
Frick. My face turned red, I finished my shopping and I got the hell on outta there.
And why is it, at times when you really, really, need to or want to look good, (like say, your car broke down on the highway, or you run into your ex at the bank, or Hugh-Jackman-as-Wolverine knocks on your door and says he needs to use your shower) WHY do you always look like shit? I had on my most mommiest pair of jeans, my oldest pair of flip-flops, a bra that wasn’t doing its job, my hair was a  wreck, my eyeliner was smudged in the not-sexy, football kind of way, and to top it all off, I had a bat in the cave. It’s not that I was going to take home a fireman, but if I had to look like an idiot with an eggplant, at least I could have looked like a pretty one. It would’ve made me feel better.
Hmm. Now I’ll have get all dolled up and see if Caleb will help me re-enact the grocery store scene. Except that I forgot to get the eggplant.
Oooooor maybe we could just play "Wolverine knocks on my door and needs to use my shower."
Firemen are hot.

About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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