I want to have an argument with the old lady on the blog, but I’m not sure if she will go for it. I think that calling her the old lady will probably fire her up enough to do it right.
My thing is this, I like to have adventures, and she thinks that adventures mean brushes with death. I say that an adventure can just be going for a walk in a park that you’ve never been to.
Mrs. B: Well that would be true if you were like an average fellow, who walked through the park at high noon, perhaps with a lovely non-shedding dog along with you. However, you are more the ‘adventure seeking’ type, who sneaks into the park, ninja-style, at 11pm all dressed in black, and seems surprised when you get jumped by a gang of pimply-faced teens looking for their next bottle of Sailor Jerry. I’m just saying that trouble follows you because you call it up and invite it out for the ‘adventure’.
Birdman: That is mostly untrue. Anytime I put on my ninja gear, there is a job to do, and I do my job well. The gang of teens deserved what they got. The point I was making was that I hoped for some adventures this winter, and you jumped to the conclusion that I might harm myself. I will be completely safe while working this winter, they have rules to ensure this.
May I remind you of the stories you have told me, of going through the ice in minus three hundred degree weather? (Maybe I am exaggerating on the exact temperature, but it was cold). Or how about the time when you laid on the ice under the truck trying to fix some stupid thing while your core temperature dropped lower and lower? Because apparently you were not clever enough to realize that laying on ice is a bad idea when it’s colder than a witches tit out? Also, you have regaled me with stories of your near death experiences. I say ‘experiences’ rather than experience because there are SO MANY. You are not a man who pays attention to detail. You forget shit. Is it so hard to believe that I might not trust you when you say: “Trust me, Baby…it’s totally safe!” *angry face*
Holy shit, you really remember a lot of things. When I was laying on the ice, it wasn’t an adventure, I needed to get the truck moving again. It was1:30 AM, -40C and the airlines had broke. I wasn’t out there thinking it was a fun time and all the cool things happen to me. I’m sure glad I didn’t tell you about the time… never mind. Anyhow, those are just things that happened, and we don’t work alone in the bush anymore. There is a buddy system, and we have to check in every hour. Totally safe, trust me. By the way, you looked really pretty today in your ponytail.
Thank you for mentioning the pony tail. 🙂 I know you are only trying to soften my VERY LEGITIMATE CONCERNS with your cunning flattery. Did you like the vest I wore too? I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a bit too puffy…?
That wasn’t flattery, baby. You know I love your hair back, and you looked really urban chic in your puffy vest. I was worried that your torso was going to overheat as your arms froze, but you seem to be okay now. I’ll never understand vests, because they don’t make any sense to me. Is it okay if I go on some safe adventures that don’t seem life threatening? I promise that if I think something is going to kill me, I’ll stop immediately.
Okay Baby. I love you. *big stupid smile* But please do exercise all caution and come back to me as soon as you can. I will miss you more than you can imagine. xo 🙂
Oh, I can imagine it. I think you know that. Is this the end of the debate? Shit, I need a little over 300 more words. Okay, I guess I can tell you that I’m growing my hair into a ponytail and calling myself Dack when I get back in the spring. I will probably end up addicted to coke as well.
We will talk. Do not in anyway consider the preceding 3 words as an endorsement of the above.
I am agreeing that the debate is done. I was victorious in asserting that you have a terrible habit of almost dying, and you are victorious in getting me to concede that you probably won’t kick it this winter. I love you baby, and although I wish you weren’t going, I am fully prepared to spend all of the money you are bringing home. Now give Mama some sugar…it’s cocoon time. *wink*
Okay, I guess I am going to fuck these fine people out of 150 words or so, but they were probably going to be jibberish anyhow, and cocooning trumps all.
Hey hey mama said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove,