Tools 'n' Ghouls
A couple of years ago, when I had my head fully buried in the business of being the super duper secretary to our local softball club (otherwise known as shuffling papers around and giving off an oscar-winning performance of being a body of great importance)....I was invited (along with the president and other committee members of our club)...to a casino evening. This evening was being held by the softball club's largest sponsor (the large local hardware store).
Actually it wasn't a casino evening, I've just forgotten the details of it...it was more an evening for the hardware store to bring together it's largest customers for food, drinks and a bit of fun. The fun part being the auction they ran at the end of it. Now that I think about that harder...it wasn't an auction...no money changed hands. I am so having trouble trying to set the scene for this post...it's a wonder I don't give up right here...but I won't, cos I know how bitterly disappointed you lot would be if I stop right here and now.
Anyway....when I first arrived I had to write my name down on a piece of paper, this paper went into a box. At the end of the evening the box was given to a man (read arrogant prick)...he stood behind a table that was laiden with various tools, hardware, sleeveless jackets etc...you get the idea. If you were lucky enough to have your name withdrawn from the box...he would take a few things from the table in front of him and give them to you as the 'prize'. How exciting!
During the course of the 'handing over free prizes', I noticed a pattern forming. Any time a woman's name was called, one of the first things this gentleman asked her was "Do you have a man at home dear?"....the general answer was "yes"...he would then give her things such as power tools, sleeveless vests etc...you know?...MAN stuff?
As the evening wore on and I sat continuing to guzzle down free bourbon in the corner of the room (I'm a closet drunk don't ya know, I try to avoid others seeing me licking the inside of the glass...corners are handy for that, you just need to turn into them), my name was called. My fellow-corner-hog elbowed me "It's you! Your name's been pulled out"...."eh?..oh...shit...yeah ok".
I stood, pulled my knickers out of the crack of my arse, smoothed down my trousers and walked as lady-like as possible towards centre stage. I wished they were playing music at the same time as I did that victory walk. At the very least if I'd veered off my "walk-a-straight-line-please-Madam - yes-sir" path...I could've incorporated that wobble into a little dance move. Might've looked quite cool to be busting a wee dance move on my way up to the spotlight....least that's what I would've thought...just before I tripped and did a graceful face-plant on the floor. I can see it now....turning onto my back, staring at the ceiling, the slur of my words "Oooooo, look at all the priddy lights" *giggle giggle*, as my eyes rolled back in my head and I passed out.
SETTLE DOWN!.... I didn't do that...sheesh...I'm far too dignified to do that kinda stuff! *cough*
I arrived in front of the gent with his Scottish accent (most disappointed to find he really didn't look like Sean Connery at close range)...and smiled sweetly.
Him: "Do you have a Tim The Toolman tucked away at home somewhere dear?"
I froze. I knew whatever he gave me was going to be based on my reply. Should I lie and tell him "yes"?....or should I tell him the truth and be given a couple of vouchers for squat? Oh man...what to do?...what to DO??!
Me: "No, just me and the kids" *smile*
Him: "Right, let's see what we have here for you then" *searching contents of table and looking around behind him*
This happened near the end of the 'giving out freebies' bit, so there really wasn't a lot left to choose from.
Him: "Ah, where we go." *handing me a broom and a couple of packets of spanky new wash-cloths*
Me: "Oh!" *reaching out to touch his hands...pushing the goods back at him*
For the next 15 seconds we did this cute little pushing back and forth waltz with each other over the table. (See? if music was playing, we could've done that in time with the beat)
Me: "Do you mind if I choose what I'd like?" *smiling so hard all my teeth show*
Him: *mutter* then so the audience could hear him "Of course Madam!" *winking at the crowd* (there's the recipe for a black eye right there folks).
I walked away with a couple of new sets of screwdrivers, a craft knife, a pair of long nosed pliers, a tube of silicone gel and the tool you use to squirt said gel out of it's confines. I have no need for the silicone gel, but hey, I'll be damned if I'm going to let that man stereotype me into being a dizzy, helpless woman that knows nothing about tools...unfortunately there were no power tools left. Cos if there were, I would've come home with something else I didn't know how to use yet....hahaha.
How dare he make that assumption. Pah. And by the way...the tools I picked up that night have come in handy on various occasions since then...except the gel...I'm still looking for a leak of some sort to plug up. If I do indeed find something to use it on...I might wait til Walker gets here for that....besides, I might break a finger nail using that silly contraption and that just wouldn't do at all, would it? I love my screwdrivers...they're such a lovely yellow colour and they match the colour of the pliers....all tools have gotta match in colour right? otherwise they don't work properly, right? Yeah, I thought so. I am SO onto the concept of this tool thing!
Actually it wasn't a casino evening, I've just forgotten the details of it...it was more an evening for the hardware store to bring together it's largest customers for food, drinks and a bit of fun. The fun part being the auction they ran at the end of it. Now that I think about that harder...it wasn't an auction...no money changed hands. I am so having trouble trying to set the scene for this post...it's a wonder I don't give up right here...but I won't, cos I know how bitterly disappointed you lot would be if I stop right here and now.
Anyway....when I first arrived I had to write my name down on a piece of paper, this paper went into a box. At the end of the evening the box was given to a man (read arrogant prick)...he stood behind a table that was laiden with various tools, hardware, sleeveless jackets etc...you get the idea. If you were lucky enough to have your name withdrawn from the box...he would take a few things from the table in front of him and give them to you as the 'prize'. How exciting!
During the course of the 'handing over free prizes', I noticed a pattern forming. Any time a woman's name was called, one of the first things this gentleman asked her was "Do you have a man at home dear?"....the general answer was "yes"...he would then give her things such as power tools, sleeveless vests etc...you know?...MAN stuff?
As the evening wore on and I sat continuing to guzzle down free bourbon in the corner of the room (I'm a closet drunk don't ya know, I try to avoid others seeing me licking the inside of the glass...corners are handy for that, you just need to turn into them), my name was called. My fellow-corner-hog elbowed me "It's you! Your name's been pulled out"...."eh?..oh...shit...yeah ok".
I stood, pulled my knickers out of the crack of my arse, smoothed down my trousers and walked as lady-like as possible towards centre stage. I wished they were playing music at the same time as I did that victory walk. At the very least if I'd veered off my "walk-a-straight-line-please-Madam - yes-sir" path...I could've incorporated that wobble into a little dance move. Might've looked quite cool to be busting a wee dance move on my way up to the spotlight....least that's what I would've thought...just before I tripped and did a graceful face-plant on the floor. I can see it now....turning onto my back, staring at the ceiling, the slur of my words "Oooooo, look at all the priddy lights" *giggle giggle*, as my eyes rolled back in my head and I passed out.
SETTLE DOWN!.... I didn't do that...sheesh...I'm far too dignified to do that kinda stuff! *cough*
I arrived in front of the gent with his Scottish accent (most disappointed to find he really didn't look like Sean Connery at close range)...and smiled sweetly.
Him: "Do you have a Tim The Toolman tucked away at home somewhere dear?"
I froze. I knew whatever he gave me was going to be based on my reply. Should I lie and tell him "yes"?....or should I tell him the truth and be given a couple of vouchers for squat? Oh man...what to do?...what to DO??!
Me: "No, just me and the kids" *smile*
Him: "Right, let's see what we have here for you then" *searching contents of table and looking around behind him*
This happened near the end of the 'giving out freebies' bit, so there really wasn't a lot left to choose from.
Him: "Ah, where we go." *handing me a broom and a couple of packets of spanky new wash-cloths*
Me: "Oh!" *reaching out to touch his hands...pushing the goods back at him*
For the next 15 seconds we did this cute little pushing back and forth waltz with each other over the table. (See? if music was playing, we could've done that in time with the beat)
Me: "Do you mind if I choose what I'd like?" *smiling so hard all my teeth show*
Him: *mutter* then so the audience could hear him "Of course Madam!" *winking at the crowd* (there's the recipe for a black eye right there folks).
I walked away with a couple of new sets of screwdrivers, a craft knife, a pair of long nosed pliers, a tube of silicone gel and the tool you use to squirt said gel out of it's confines. I have no need for the silicone gel, but hey, I'll be damned if I'm going to let that man stereotype me into being a dizzy, helpless woman that knows nothing about tools...unfortunately there were no power tools left. Cos if there were, I would've come home with something else I didn't know how to use yet....hahaha.
How dare he make that assumption. Pah. And by the way...the tools I picked up that night have come in handy on various occasions since then...except the gel...I'm still looking for a leak of some sort to plug up. If I do indeed find something to use it on...I might wait til Walker gets here for that....besides, I might break a finger nail using that silly contraption and that just wouldn't do at all, would it? I love my screwdrivers...they're such a lovely yellow colour and they match the colour of the pliers....all tools have gotta match in colour right? otherwise they don't work properly, right? Yeah, I thought so. I am SO onto the concept of this tool thing!
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