June 23, 2009

The post in which I use a lot of parentheses

Well. I wrote a nice-sized email to my missionary brother today (Russia! For only two more months!) about the football game with my family last night (in which I contributed zero for most of the game, only to catch the winning touchdown) and so I am plumb out of witticisms for you about said game (except for the word "plumb" which can only be entertaining you out of your minds) (and can this paragraph have any more parentheses? I say yes).

However, I would still like to discuss something that I am carrying around on my person nowadays that may shock and scare you. Prepare yourselves. And that is, this:

Yes, that is pepper spray. Mine is just like that, only I have one, not three, and it's yellow. But it hangs out on my keys, unless Sam is using my keys and then it detachs conveniently and usually ends up between the couch cushions. But this is not a story about the pepper spray's current life but one about how it got to its current life.

One day a few weeks ago, Sam texted me that he had a surprise for me. Surprise! I love me a good surprise (also, I love spelling "surprise" with just one "r," as in "suprise!" but that is wrong and I know it and I wouldn't want you to think I'm grammatically ignorant so I suppress the urge). When Sam came to pick me up from work, he handed me pepper spray. Which was definitely a surprise. Mainly it was adorable how concerned he was about my safety, buying pepper spray for me, teaching me how to use it, and admonishing me to have it with me at all times.

But pepper spray! What if I injure myself? Let's all admit, it's much more likely for a woman to spray herself than any perverted kidnapper. Still, I've been quite impressed with the safety feature. Quite easy to spray (so I imagine), very resistant to spraying on its own. In fact, it has not sprayed since I owned it. Poor little unused pepper spray.

Was I really just sad that I have not had an opportunity to use my pepper spray? Who am I?

Anyway, I hope you're not too worried about me now that you know I have pepper spray. I hope that you feel even less worried about me than you did before you knew it because rest assured, I am going to kick some bad guy rear end someday. Or as my dad would say, some bad guy caboose. Be afraid. Be very afraid.


Mandy | Baking with Blondie 6/24/09, 8:14 AM  

I've carried pepper spray in my purse for 3 years - never had to use it - but I'm kind of glad I never had to.

ashleydox 6/25/09, 8:51 PM  

Yeah - Mike & I gave Mandy that pepper spray...we were SO afraid she was going to spray herself with it...
Me? Pepper sprat isn't as fun as my 357 Mag. :o)

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