A couple of days ago I exercised such iron self-control you’d be amazed. Despite tremendous temptation, I acted like a normal well-mannered adult, which we all know is a wholly unnatural state for me.
When you exert that much pressure, the shit’s gotta leak out somewhere. So since I prevented myself from blurting offensive and/or potentially incriminating comments in front of two people on Monday, I now find myself writing them here for all to see. Go figure.
Here’s what happened:
Hubby and I were shopping for outdoor equipment: Bear spray and bear bangers, and we each wanted a new camping knife. (And I didn’t even think of making a joke about banging bears until now. Aren’t you proud of me?)
If you’re not familiar with these products, bear bangers make a sound like a gunshot to frighten away a bear, and bear spray is hot pepper spray you carry in case of a bear attack. Theoretically, you spray it in the bear’s face and the horrible burning sensation makes him run away, or at least distracts him so you can escape. In actual fact, it probably just pisses him off and gives him a taste for jalapeno human, but I digress.
In Canada you have to provide identification to buy bear spray. It’s been so long since we bought any, we didn’t realize they now track the canisters and record their serial number along with your ID. When the clerk explained that, I almost said, “Jeez, we’d better use our old canisters when we commit our next crime.” The sentence was fully formed in my brain and halfway out my mouth before I stifled myself.
It’s never a good idea to make that kind of joke in front of someone who’s recording your name to give to the police.
Restraining that comment wasn’t exactly a selfless act, but my other tongue-biting episode took place solely because I’m nice. And polite. And modest. Prudish, even. (Okay, also full of shit.)
Anyway, I wanted a new knife. I have a lovely old Mora blade I’ve used for years, but it doesn’t have a finger guard and its wooden handle gets dangerously slippery when it’s wet. (No, I’m not going to say anything about wrapping my fingers around wet slippery wood, either. See? Restraint.)
I was looking for a half-serrated Ka-Bar type, but the regular sporting-goods stores only seemed to carry five-inch blades in that style. My Mora is six, and that’s what I wanted. So I approached the guy behind the counter and explained my problem.
I admit I was inwardly snickering about walking up to a guy and demanding more inches, but I managed to squelch my inner adolescent and I didn’t even crack a smile.
But it nearly killed me when he whipped out a measuring tape and started measuring the blades even though I’d already told him they were only five inches. It was all I could do not to say, “I’m a woman. Trust me, I know the difference between five and six inches.”
That was rapidly followed by the need to tell him, “It doesn’t matter how many ways you measure it, it’s still not big enough”, along with the almost irresistible urge to hold my fingers a couple of inches apart and say, “You’re a guy. Of course you think this is six inches.”
But I didn’t say any of those things. Steam came out my ears and my brain threatened to implode under the pressure, but I bit my tongue. Hard.
How do you like my new tongue piercing? I’m thinking a silver stud would be attractive…
That is an amazing display of self restraint! I don’t think I could have managed to keep a straight face and I’m a guy!
LikeLike
Thank you – I was proud of myself! But I think I sprained something…
LikeLike
Oh Diane, you do have a warped sense of humour. And I love and miss it!
LikeLike
Thanks! We miss you, too – you could always move back west… 🙂
LikeLike
Thinking about it…
LikeLike
Stopping restraining yourself, you’ll feel much better if simply say what you’re thinking. Plus, “the how I got arrested” post will be great.
LikeLike
True, but I’m not quite that desperate for blog fodder just yet. The day may come, though…
LikeLike
so much material…your head must have been ready to explode. Hope the tongue is feeling okay. 🙂
LikeLike
It’s feeling much better now that I’ve let all the pressure off in this blog post! 🙂
LikeLike
Pingback: One Minute Doodle: Been Fishing | Within The Sphere
Very proud of your restraint, Diane. Bravo!
I’m puzzled about the bear spray, though. I take it you have to be really close to the bear to spray it in their face? How do you get within spraying distance of a bear? If one was anywhere near me, I’d be over the hills and far away before I had chance to even reach for the canister. Obviously, we don’t have bears over here, so they may have a few tricks up their sleeves, I suppose…
LikeLike
That’s the thing. The bear has to be about 15 – 20 feet away for the spray to work, so it’s definitely a last resort. If you’re unlucky, you might meet a bear wandering through the woods – come over a rise and there he is, yikes! If everybody stays calm and backs away slowly, there’s usually no need for the pepper spray.
But if you’re very unlucky you might be wandering through the woods and surprise a bear with cubs or with a food source that they feel particularly possessive about. If that’s the case, they may mock-charge to scare you away, or if you’re really unlucky, it might be a real charge and an attack, which is where the pepper spray comes in. The bears are getting more aggressive as they become accustomed to human contact, so we’re taking as few chances as possible.
LikeLike
Yikes. Don’t blame you.
LikeLike
Such modesty and decorum. I’m getting worried.
Happy Anniversary! Shopping for hunting knives and anti-bear paraphernalia to defend one another is lovely. My husband and I spent our first wedding anniversary getting high on paint fumes while we painted the restrooms at a movie theatre. Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t have bear spray and hunting knives. Hey, we haven’t killed each other in over 23 years.
LikeLike
Right on – congratulations to you, too! Twenty-three years of homicide-free marriage is definitely something to celebrate. Must’ve been something in those paint fumes… 😉
LikeLike
That’s what she said? Giggity.
LikeLike
That’s what she said. Almost, anyway. She really, really wanted to say it!
LikeLike
Okay, I just laughed until I hurt myself. (That sounds better than “peed myself,” doesn’t it? Let’s not quibble about accuracy.)
LikeLike
“Laughed until the tears ran down your leg”…? 😉
LikeLike
LOL! Precisely. 😉
LikeLike
Oh my Gadfry! I definitely needed a laugh this morning and this has surely made my whole day. Your husband better appreciate you. I’ll bet his life would be so dull without you and your sense of humor.
LikeLike
Thanks! I’m glad you got a laugh! 🙂
LikeLike
Ooh, I’m so proud of you! Who knew you had it in you? You deserve an extra treat today. 🙂
By the way, nothing says love more than a couple who shops for bear spray, bear bangers, and camping knives together. Love it!
LikeLike
It was actually our anniversary present to each other. How’s that for romance? We thought it was touching that after 15 years together we were still defending each other against bears instead of trying to trip each other as we fled…
LikeLike
Haha, yes, I think that’s a good sign.
LikeLike
Must…not…give…in…to…temptation…must…not…give…in…
**POW!!!**
I think I broke my liver. Or blew a sphincter. Too early to tell…
LikeLike
Yep, it gets ugly when you try to suppress that stuff.
LikeLike