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Typical

Anyone who knows me well knows I am mildly spastic when it comes to certain tasks. I accept this award and I would like to thank my parents, for treating me like an only child the 13 years I was one. It's quite possible they loved me so much they wanted to really keep me from the dangerous moments in life such as driving at night...changing a tire...refilling a propane gas tank for a grill. While some of my friends were doing all of these tasks never leaning on the "But I'm a girl" excuse, I was perfectly content leaving these hobbies to others. Now, as far as that last example, taking in a gas tank to switch, these contraptions are quite scary. Since I am super afraid of my shadow at times, they are also a recipe for a disastrous for me and comical for others endeavor. Hunter has known me going on five years and knows me as well as my mother does yet still included me in his trip to Lowes. Silly, silly boy.

The trip started fine; the tank unhooked normal and I watched Hunter whisk it away from its hose and lead it to the back of my Penelope car. All the while mind you, I was envisioning my usual monstrosity of events such as the line leaking and causing our house to be gone by the time we got back, dogs included-charred Pomeranian and Lab kabobs, how sad!; the car filling up with gas fumes and seeping into our lungs; the car behind us crashing into our rear simultaneously igniting our little tushes to Kingdom Come. You know, normal stuff. I think I watched John Candy in Only The Lonely one too many times as a child by the way. So, Hunter gets in the car and rips me from revery land asking me 20 questions about where we have to go for what groceries, how long we'll be, he'd like to stop by Kohl's and exchange a shirt because it has a pocket and he hates pockets.

As he's babbling, excuse me, talking, I ask him if he knows this part of a Grill Master's routine. I know growing up he actively grilled and learned from his dad, who in my opinion is one of the finest Grillers to ever grace the land. You can quote me on that. You would of thought I asked Hunter to sign a life insurance policy while driving the car off the road and unhooking his seat belt the way he looked at me. "Babe, of course I do. You insult me." Really? Insult. Interesting.

I then elaborated on my scary theories of our demise. Big Mistake. Huge. Hunter totally did the ol'trickery, acting genuinely understanding towards my concern. We weren't even to the front of our neighborhood before the first sounds escaped from the back of the car, proving my worst fears were indeed coming to life.
"What was that? What WAS that? Hunter!"

"Relax, Bubs, you just have to be careful because when you hit the brakes the tank can hit hard enough to explode inside of here."

As I went to hit the breaks to do a 'Umm, come again Dear' I heard what he was saying so I eased to a halt and then uttered my phase.
"I'm just kidding. But for real, take it easy." Hmph, take it easy this fool says. Honestly, I about wet myself. Little did I realize this was the finest of the age old "if you show a dog fear" moment in my life.

The next 15 minutes of our drive consisted of us making our attempt through post church traffic in East Orlando suburbia where stopping suddenly is in the rules. Every time resulted in the tank rolling and hitting the back of the car and then me freaking out as if a meteor fell straight from the sky. Each time I would freak out, Hunter ever so graciously took it upon himself to had to the excitement: Yea, I guess I should have held it up here on the floor board between my feet, you know those things can bust. For real. No I'm kidding; That guy behind us is getting a little close, make sure you break in time to let him know; What was that noise? Really, that one was bad, go, go go! Get to the parking lot, we need to get out; No, we can't go shopping after for groceries, we need to take that thing outta here! You wanna blow to nothing??

Really? So lovely of you to get such intense pleasure from my naivete. To be honest, he had me laughing hysterically at some of his scare tactics. That Stephen Hunter sure is a funny man! Of course it's not all his fault for finding humor in torturing me. I do make it enjoyable for people. I overreact, get super dramatic, and usually end up saying a few choice words both before, during and after the event.

Needless to say, once the tank was full, we did go home. I think we figured why test the gods. As much joking as we did, the luck of the draw was in motion. When we got home that night, we didn't blow up at all. In fact, we thoroughly delighted in some tasty burgers, charred Brussel Sprouts (not as good as the Pomeranian perhaps but hey), and savory baked beans. All in all, our near death dramatics were absolutely worth it right down to every last scrumptious and grilled morsel. And Hunter indefinitely can go fill the tank from now on on his own. Hey, one of us has to stay to feed the dogs.


Two peas in a pod, these two<3 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5V430M59Yn8

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