Firemen are always hotties!

I know… I’m on my way to London but I couldn’t resist posting this conversation.

Yesterday, the county pest abatement guy spent hours hunting down the yellow jacket nest. Fortunately it’s not in our yard, rather it’s a couple hundred yards away, behind the neighborhood market. He told me, and I quote: ”I’m so damn sick of yellow jackets. I can’t wait for the rainy season. I’ve had a man stationed behind the market all summer because no sooner do we destroy one nest, another pops up. We’ve already destroyed thirty yellow jacket nests back there.”

I told him I want a flamethrower and he said, “Me too.”

I think he managed to poison another nest because today I have maybe a dozen or so yellow jackets rummaging around my backyard. Still can’t go out, but it’s a lot better. I’m hoping when I come home the weather will be cool and the nests will be gone.

Oh! So onto the firemen!

I have this thing about firemen. As a hospice nurse I have to call them all the time to help me pick up patients who have fallen. We even have a secret phone number so we can call the fire department for assistance and they won’t come with sirens blaring.

Whenever a female patient falls out of bed or falls on her way to the bathroom, I make her comfortable on the floor and I tell her - “Just wait, you’re gonna love this. Firemen are always hotties.”

If it’s a guy who falls, I just say, “Yeah, they’re fireman. They can get you back to bed, no problem.”

So yesterday evening my doorbell rang.

It was a fireman.

A hot fireman.

Being sort of tongue tied at the sight of him, because that’s how exceedingly hot he was, I said, “Um… Did I call you?” (Thinking maybe the county pest abatement guy had asked him to stop by for some reason.)

He said, “I don’t know… Did you call me?”

I said, “Well, I was sort of considering taking a flamethrower to my backyard because of the yellow jackets.”

He said, “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m here. You should always give the fire department advance warning before you set your backyard on fire.”

(Right about now I’m flashing on that Liquid Plumber commercial.)

So I said, “Um, why are you here?”

He laughed. He said, “To give you money for the post season baseball tickets. I’m Curtis. I’m in your husband’s other ticket group. I told him I’d be dropping by today.”

I said, “Oh…” (All breathy-like.)

He handed me an envelope. I sorta discreetly fanned myself with it. He smiled and then he left, turning around to give me a wave.

I asked my husband later, “Did you know Curtis is a fireman?”

He said, “No, I’ve never seen him. He’s in the other group.”

I said, “Well he is and he’s pretty swoon-worthy.”

Hubby said, “Guess I better tell him never to come around again.”

Ah firemen, gotta love ‘em.

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