#hip waders

[mybigboots]

Those boots need a washin'.

[tie62]

Stockholm Sergels Torg von Tie 62 Über Flickr: In meiner neuen Grundens-Bekleidung unterwegs in der Stadt

[rubberhipwader55]

Horny in my hip waders

[mybigboots]

Double your fun. Stroll the outside world with your drone friend in tall waders.

[tie62]

Trondheim: Blick auf Munkholmen / Trondheim: Munkholmen View von Tie 62 Über Flickr: Beim Spaziergang an der Bucht.

[mybigboots]

Love to see you come, but enjoy to watch you go.

[lercer]

[tie62]

Trondheim: Auf dem Weg auf den Gråkallen / On the way up to the Gråkallen von Tie 62 Über Flickr: Beim nicht allerbesten Wetter ging es hoch hinaus

[coquelicoq]

just had an intense unflooding-the-street experience. i actually got out there before the storm drain was completely covered, only to watch it cover before my eyes in a manner of minutes as i futilely removed leaves at a much slower pace than they were coming due to the insane speed and volume of the water. then i had the standard experience of removing a handful of leaves at a time and having to stop and retreat every time someone drove through so they didn't splash me, and then wait for the waves to die down so that i could get close enough to the drain without filling my boots with water, and then here comes another car, etc. this time there was a crew here doing work on my building, and one of them offered me a rake, which was very nice and did eventually come in handy, but i had to make some progress on the drain first to reduce the amount of water in the way, which took forever for the aforementioned reasons. the best part (sarcastic) was when a guy who had parked on the street came over to complain that he couldn't get something out of his car, and i was like "if you want this to go faster you could stand over there and direct cars not to drive through here," and suddenly it was all oh i can't i'm busy. lol. some nerve to come and complain about the situation to the one person trying to do something about it and then not be willing to do anything at all to assist. the actual best part was when another guy came over, and he said something about the drain on the other side of the street and i didn't hear him exactly so i thought he was just complaining that that one was also blocked, which like, no shit, so i was like yeah i'll get to that one next, and then he held up the rake he was carrying that i hadn't noticed and was like no i mean, can i help you out? and i was like omg yes please!!! it went much faster with two people and was also excellent for morale. i was in such a rush to get outside before the street completely flooded that i didn't have time to eat first and am now just completely soaked with rain and my own sweat and like. shaking all over lol. so i'm going to try to take a shower without fainting. wish me luck.

[brisrmws]

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

having to tread through cold, stinky, muddy water at 8 in the fucking morning….suing the school idc

[mybigboots]

Sit, bud. Have a squat.

[lercer]

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

JOHN: why do they always show cranberries in those big pits and it's implied it's wet and possibly swimmable. do cranberries really grow like that. what.

ROSE: You've never heard of The Bog?

JOHN: th. the what?

ROSE: Hm. I forget some people don't understand New England.

JOHN: each additional comment you add makes my blood run cold.

ROSE: Well, then, yes, cranberries grow in large clumps called bogs. Once they're ripe, the bog is flooded and the cranberries are harvested, basically by using big floating nets to round them all up and scooping them out of the water.

JOHN: ok thank you. i hate it a little less. the horrible little man in my head is still screaming "BOG BODY BOG BODY BOG BODY", but i appreciate the education.

ROSE: Additionally, you don't just flood the bog and then go around it in a boat, or whatever. No, you use hip waders to get in there and put the big floating nets where they go and get all the berries and such.

ROSE: And many cranberry farms opt for organic or sustainable pest control methods, one of which is encouraging wolf spiders to live in the cranberry field and eat the bugs to keep insect damage down.

JOHN: wait.

ROSE: And, well, when you're in the bog in hip waders, that makes you the tallest thing. Wolf spiders can swim a bit, but they don't like it, so they are, quite understandably, looking to climb out of the water onto a tall thing. So you will probably have, like, a hundred wolf spiders trying to climb your eyebrows. You have to be chill, though, because the spiders are also employees.

ROSE: If you ever want to go wading in a cranberry bog, just make sure you're cool with spiders.

JOHN: ...i want you to know, really truly know, that "make sure you're cool with spiders" is not a specific enough statement for that situation.

[mawofthemagnetar]

So you’ve been abandoned in the forest.

And you’ve lost the ability to speak.

Great!

This is definitely a good situation to be in and not even a little scary.

First, listen. Do you hear your coworker’s obnoxious music? No?

Great!

Listen harder. They can’t have left you. You just got too hot, and wanted a rest. The heat’s just boiled away all your energy, and it plus the stress have sapped your words. Generally in extreme situations like this, you lose the ability to speak.

But it’s okay. Surely they noticed. Surely they stopped and waited.

…You hear nothing.

Great!

Okay, engines. Any engines?

No?

Aircraft? No?

Great.

There are bears here. You should be shouting and making noise. So you don’t startle them. So they know you’re coming.

…you can’t speak.

You can’t speak, much less yell.

Your coworker has all the bear bells. You were with them, and their obnoxious music. You didn’t need any. Because you were with them. Because you were slowly losing your ability to speak, but it was fine, because they were making enough noise.

And because those bear bells are their bear bells.

They’ve left you alone, and the forest is silent.

Great.

Do you have cell reception?

Nope!

Great.

You have a GPS and a compass.

You don’t have bear spray. Your coworker has the bear spray.

Great.

You’re at the top of a rocky ridge, looking down into a canyon. Your hip waders are slowly cooking you alive in the heat. They’re definitely contributing to your sensory overwhelm, and definitely part of the reason you can’t talk, but if you take them off you’ll be cut to ribbons by the brambles you’ve been pushing through for the last several hours. And you can’t take them off anyway- your boots are soaking wet and are meant to be worn with the waders.

Great.

Okay, try to yell for help. Maybe your coworker is within shouting distance?

You wheeze weakly.

Great.

Okay. Switch on the GPS. You’re about 50km from the nearest settlement, through dense forest that’ll take days to push through. But there is a road. The work truck is parked on the road.

If you can get to the road, you can sit in the truck. You can regain your bearings. You can regain your voice.

…Assuming the truck is still there.

If the truck is not there, what’s your plan?

You’ll follow the road and hitchhike the next truck that passes back to the settlement. It’s a stupid idea but it’s all you’ve got.

Great.

It’s time to find the road.

You still can’t speak.

You aren’t sure how accurate the GPS’ directional pointer is. You know for sure where you are. But not which way you’re facing.

Zoom out a little.

The road. It’s to the west.

Great.

Fuck the job, fuck your coworker. You need to get out. You need to get to the truck.

You need get to the road.

You snap open the cover on your compass and get a heading. That way. That way is west.

And you follow it.

And follow it.

You push through brambles and shove your way into clearing after clearing. Nothing looks familiar, but the compass and the GPS will see you through. Grass sways around you, wind whispers through the trees, and you think this place is beautiful i wish i could speak i wish i wasn’t cooking alive i wish i wasn’t alone i wish i wish i wish -

You still can’t speak. You should be making noise, as you walk. Yelling into the forest.

You try. God, do you try.

You wheeze.

Yeah, that went about how you expected it would.

You walk for what feels like hours.

What’s that? There, through that thicket.

A flash of white. White paint.

A truck.

Your truck.

You did it!

You burst out of the forest, stumbling like a newborn deer onto the gravel road. Blessed, blessed humanity, and there is your salvation.

You get to the truck and wrench the doors open and collapse into the ovenlike confines of the vehicle. You start peeling off the horrible hip waders that got you into this whole mess, and switch into shorts and drink water and start to cool off and rest.

You still can’t speak, though.

…Oh no.

That’s your coworker’s obnoxious music.

And it’s getting closer.

Great!