Between men called Leon (which I'll tell you about later) and urinating cats I am becoming that person everyone knows that has a story that seems so strange and odd-like you'd swear they were lifting those moments from their day from Woody Allen movies.
Yesterdays story has me tittering (no pun intended) like a 15 year old boy who finds the words 'nipple' and 'masturbating' incredibly belly-achingly funny.
Some of the things they never tell you about working in a mining laboratory is that you will never wear a white lab coat. You will get hot and dusty and sweaty and your bones will ache and your feet will hate you about one hour after your shift starts and honestly -? Safety glasses are in no way as sexy as they are portrayed on television.
Part of Crusty's role is melting down copper buttons and turning them into four inch long pins. To do this he has to stand awfully close to the furnace (the pins are made by sticking a glass pin into the molten copper by hand). The heat-resistant coat he wears is closed with velcro, and after three years of use the velcro is doing its job to its maximum potential. It starts to come undone in the middle of making pins, which can be a touch on the dangerous side.
Crusty, Goth and my good self were talking to Anne, the lady in charge of the ordering of equipment and the rest, and a guy we like to call "Tommy Turtle" Because he looks like one. Actually, he looks like a Gollum and a turtle have mated and he is their love child. He is also a complete idiot. And the sad thing is he has breed was sitting in the room at the same eating his crib. Anne had a catalogue with safety clothes and they were talking about getting a new coat.
And then Tommy Turtle pipes up. He says - well, something that makes you look ponder the person talking being the poster child for compulsory sterilistion. It just blew us out of the water, and dammit we all deserve medals for not shooting our lunches out of our noses.
He butts in like a blind goat in a china shop and says "Oh yes, those coats are very important. The other day I was putting crucibles into the cuppelation furnace without a coat on and the keys in my pocket got hot and I burnt my nipple." And then he put his hand on the left side of his chest.
Goth and I just looked at each other and then had a rather indepth conversation on a jar of Australian mustard that was sitting on the table. Anne got up mumbling something about stock-taking and poor Crusty was left to continue that juicy conversation all by himself.
There are some things you just don't want to think about, and that is an unattractive man's nipple being on fire. It's...disconcerting.
It did bring much joy to our lives though. For example, we were talking heatedly about something that was important at the time but I can't remember now, and I was losing the debate. So, in the middle of my speech I just yelled "Nipple!". Everyone stopped talking, started laughing and I pretty much walked away with my train of thought being deemed the most correct.
Lesson learned: Saying the word "Nipple" will win any argument.
When we will the Lotto Crusty, Goth and I shall be opening a night-club and we will call it "The Burning Nipple". We will serve cocktails called Flaming Nipple, Slippery Nipple and Nipple on Fire. Instead of serving pints or schooners we shall be selling our beer in Udders. The only food served shall be breast-shaped jelly with cherries on top. All the cool kids will want to spend time there. We'll be bigger than Hooters.
We ran around for the rest of the day, walking past each other just saying "Nipple" and walking off. The word was left on Phone messages and email and SMS texts. It was said quickly, and with bad French accents and sung in the tune of Destiny's Child songs. "Cause your body is Nipple-iscious."
It's the little things that amuse you when you spend your day with acid and dirt.
And if I could ask a favour? If anyone out there is talented enough, or knows someone talented enough, could someone pretty pretty please make me an icon? I'd like it to say "I'm as bemused as a burnt nipple." It doesn't have to be a picture of a nipple on fire ('cause, ow). I'd be your slave for at least 4 hours - 5 in daylight savings time - if anyone can help me.