A special select chosen few people from each camp are chosen for the Emergency Squad. (E-Squad)
The E-Squad goes to other camps and searches for stuff.
I don't know what they search for.
I know they've found some amazing things.
Actually, I do know what they search for, but I'm not telling.
They search for all the stuff that normal people search for, but they figure with enough of them doing it, they'll find what a single team (of two) will miss.
Anyway, it's not about them as a team, or the job that they do.
It's actually about the select few of them, and not just the E-Squad guys, but there are a lot on it, that have entirely too much testosterone.
That amazing little thing that runs through their veins and makes them scream and yell and go berserker over every little thing that goes wrong (or right) in their day to day.
It powers through them like G.I. Joe in the Barbie section at Toys-R-Us on a three day pass.
Or like, oh I don't know, like giant radioactive rubber pants.
"The pants command ME!"
On a side note, that phrase comes from Invader Zim.
In it's entirety being "But... invader's blood marches through my veins, like giant RADIOACTIVE RUBBER PANTS! The pants command me. Do not ignore my veins!"
Nonetheless, I'm sure most of you know at least one person like this.
Some of you know many more.
They're basically harmless, unless they're not, and then they aren't.
But what I can't figure out is what makes these select few so overzealous about every little thing.
My soup is boiling over. OH, NO!!
My son dresses like a girl. OH, NO!!
I'm only an hour early for work instead of an hour and five minutes. AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!
I have to actually get off my lazy ass and do a little work for a change. Where's the poison?!!? I'M TOO YOUNG TO WORK!!
So, captive audience...
You sat through knowing what people are doing at the other end of the phone.
You dared to take the Folic Acid challenge. (At least, I hope you did.)
Now, I'm asking for all the input you can muster...
How do these people live more than 3o years without their heart exploding??
I really want to know.
To get so worked up, or such little, tiny, petty, bologna, how do they deal with life and not have a massive coronary by their 12th birthday.
If you're one of these people, or know one quite well, let me in on the secret.
Calm down out there, friends.
Don't let THEM getcha.
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2 comments:
It's my impression that these people have two modes of operation: On or Off. When they are On they are highly strung bundles of nerves, temper tantrums and little frayed bits of grey matter. And when they are Off they sit on the couch, drink beer and watch Nascar. It's mostly an act, tho. They don't really have anything to contribute to a conversation or anything really intelligent to say but they've discovered that if they throw a temper tantrum people will be solicitous and they will get some attention, even if it's negative. Hey, at least they aren't smearing poop. In this biz, I'll take any perk I can muster.
Rev, I agree.
They're like manic depressives. (Who YOU calling black!)
If they can't squirt a little lemon juice in someone's eye, they won't spend the lemon making lemonade, they throw it away instead.
And I think I'd rather them go away and smear feces and shut the F up.
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