ShoSho-wing too much

Posted on Sep 27, 2016 by headinablender

This weekend my wife and I took a road trip to northern Nevada. It was awesome and NOT the basis of today’s blog…don’t worry. This isn’t a travel blog after all; I only write about shit that either A) happens to me, B) pisses me off, or C) has a combination of A and B.

There are a lot of C’s in this blog, I can tell you.

(insert smirky face here)

Anyway, back to my reason for today’s post. On the way back from the land of fucking nothing for miles and miles, we detoured to a natural warm spring in Duckwater.

This warm spring has been referred to as the largest in the United States and is located on land owned by the Shoshone Indian tribe.

In essence, this place is in the middle of fucking NOWHERE.

After turning off the main highway, it was another million miles along a road that I can only describe as the beginning of almost every horror movie ever. This was followed by a gravel ‘road’ that eventually led to the warm springs and the need for repair to the underside of your car.

We didn’t see another vehicle in either direction for almost an hour. Not one. I was genuinely fucking scared.

Here are the warm springs on Google maps.

Zoom out. Seriously, do it.

Do you see just how much ‘fuck all’ there is around?

I wasn’t joking when I say we saw NO-ONE!

As we parked up in the completely desolate parking lot (or ‘area of gravel’), another car suddenly pulled up next to us. Wait, what? Where did they come from?

Out of the car jumped two young ladies who, it soon became abundantly clear, were more than just friends. I was a little bit disappointed at their arrival because I was looking forward to romantically dipping in the warm spring with my wife. It wasn’t a huge ask, considering the fact it was in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and had taken us an hour and a half out of our way, but that’s fine. No, really, it’s FINE!

I shot my wife a look that said “For fuck’s sake!” while our new friends chattered to each other as they merrily collected their shit from their car and joyfully trotted to the water’s edge.

Oh well, it was what it was. To be honest, it was still lovely. My wife and I had a bit of a swim, joined by our friends (who aren’t just friends) and we even had a bit of a laugh and joke with them. I couldn’t really be a complete dick about them being there too because, after all, we were also interrupting their romantic warm spring dip.

After half an hour or so my wife and I decided to get out as we had a 4 hour drive back to Vegas. We picked up our stuff by the side of the springs and walked back to the car, dripping sacred Shoshone water all over sacred Shoshone land. When we got to the car I looked around and saw nothing was coming from miles around; no glint of vehicle metal on the horizon and no dust clouds in their wake. I glanced back at the springs and our new friends were still swimming and chatting in the water.

“I’m going to change back into my clothes here”, I said to my wife, as I couldn’t be arsed to traipse back to the restroom (wooden hut) to change out of my wet swim shorts.

My wife looked around and agreed it made sense. Besides, I could hide behind the car door, away from the prying eyes of two young women who really had no interest in my penis anyway.

Behind me was just desert as far as the eye could see. I was good to go.

So I gripped the elastic waistband and dropped my shorts to the ground in one rapid movement. This was no easy feat considering they were soaked through and sticking to me like a Jewish mother.

It was quite nice to feel the cool Nevadan breeze tickle my untickled areas.

As I stood up, miraculously one of the girls was out of the water rummaging through their belongings, 10 feet away from my manhood swinging¹ freely in the breeze! I dropped to a half squat position behind the car door quicker than if I’d been swiftly kicked in the nuts. I was almost uppercutted by the door.

Is uppercutted a word? Meh, it’ll do.

I couldn’t believe this girl had decided that NOW was the time she needed her phone, cigarettes, rubber fist or whatever.

My wife was in bits with laughter.

I decided to sit inside the car and remove the rest of my shorts and in no time I was completely naked, in the middle of sacred Shoshone Indian country.

At this point my wife said, though stifled laughter “Oh, I don’t believe it.”

“What?”, I barked?

She pointed behind me and attempted some words that failed her. I turned and looked through the car windows and, sure enough, there was another car trundling down the gravel road towards us.

They were greeted by me, sat there, door open, naked and wet.

Enjoy your swim.

¹ Who am I kidding?

Cats and dogs and apes

Posted on Feb 18, 2014 by headinablender

During our lunch break at work today, my wife and I took advantage of the relatively nice day (a.k.a. “fuck me it’s not raining”) and took a leisurely stroll to the British Museum.

As a lunch break has a limited duration, we managed to walk in, say “ooh, it makes you think doesn’t it?” to a couple of exhibits, marvel (and get annoyed) at the amount of students and tourists there were and (attempt to) walk back out again.

We were in there 10 minutes, at the most.

As we exited the building into the big stone porch area we could see it was raining heavily. The most appropriate English idiom I can think of is: It was absolutely fucking pissing it down.

With both of us clever enough not to wear coats that had hoods, we decided it might be best to wait inside the large porch area until the rain either stopped or at least subsided enough for us to venture into it without the need for scuba gear or a kayak.

It seemed we weren’t the only people who had decided to stand in the dry, but I can assure you ~~we were the only people~~ I was the only person getting hit in the face with child umbrellas and doused with excess water from umbrellas being shaken off by the neanderthals arriving at the museum.

Maybe they’re visiting family.

My favourite moment was hearing the large oak doors open behind us, followed by a short pause, and then a voice that implied inbreeding was alive and well in our nation.

“Is it still raining?”

No mate, the floor is bubbling and splashy like that because it’s covered in 7-Up and we’re all stood here waiting for straws. Now pull your trousers up, dust off your knuckles and get back in your exhibit!

follwed by monkeys

By now 20 minutes had passed and rivers had started forming. Time and patience were running out, so we decided to start the swim back to the office.

Along the way I joked that it would be typical if the rain stopped mere metres from the office.

It did.

My wife laughed.

Wet walk

Posted on Jan 9, 2013 by headinablender

It’s clearly been raining through the night as the ground was still quite wet during my early morning walk to the train station. At least it wasnt raining so I’ll stay nice and dry.

Imagine the joy I felt as I walked under a tree where it still seemed to be raining heavily. One can only assume this is due to the bastard water retention in the bastard leaves. As a result I got a massive drip in the face and one down the back of my neck. There are top darts players and snipers out there who couldn’t have achieved such ball-twitching accuracy.

I hadn’t walked more than 10 feet, whilst cursing the tree, when I stood on a loose paving stone that shot a gallon of refreshingly cold rainwater up and over the lower half of my trousers, dousing my shoes which have the water resistant properties of tissue found in wedding invitations.

Awesome. My feet were too warm and dry anyway.

It’s going to be one of those days.