My husband is a firefighter. When most people hear that they picture sexy strong men in uniform running into burning buildings to rescue crying children. While I can certainly agree with the sexy strong men in uniform, I picture the rest of his job like this:
That's right...saving little ponies. It's an important job but someone needs to do it.
When he isn't saving little ponies then he is out on medical calls for crazy people who call 9-1-1 for no reason at all. Like a grown man who got bit by a caterpillar. Oh? You were bit by a baby butterfly? Let me give you this Rainbow Brite band-aid and then kiss it for you.
 |
| Whooooooooooooo Meeee? |
What my husband does is a very heroic and important job...and not to diminish any of that, but when he texted me this morning about a fire and said "I gave him the coveted nozzle the whole time" I can tell you what I pictured in my head was definitely NOT a fire hose. <insert 80's porn music>
No comments:
Post a Comment