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Men At Work

There are two seasons on Wisconsin roads: ice and road construction.
Tonight, we were weaving our way through orange barrels and temporary graveled surfaces, past giant Tonka machinery and various scary implements of paving torture. I was describing how earlier in the week, the road had been closed, and there were a bunch of cranes or something, and then pointed at the machines and said “Er, not cranes, rather… those things. And those bulldozer things.”

“That’s not a bulldozer, that’s a front-end loader.”

“Same thing.”

“No, they aren’t. Bulldozers scrape and push and have a front curved plow on them. Front-end loaders can lift and carry.”

“Oh, whatever. What are those… claw things. Big Claw Loader Thingies?” I made a claw motion with my hand, grabbing at the air and moving it as though destroying pavement.

He paused for a moment and then said “I don’t know. Your femaleness has now overwhelmed me. I could have told you five seconds ago, but now I can’t. You broke me. I’m going to have to go to a strip club or walk around in the automotive department at Sears to get everything back to normal.”

I tried to restrain myself, but then I burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. I told you…there would be penalties from the time you made me watch the figure skating finals, and now it’s come to this. I could probably spot a Prada purse at one hundred feet, though.”

My wicked plan is coming to fruition.

“Steam shovel!” He exclaimed. “It’s a steam shovel.”

I laughed harder.

“Girl Cooties.” He snorted, shaking his head.

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