I attended a wee little fundraiser in downtown San Jose on Saturday night.
It was A LOT of fun.
But notably, it was across the street from a fire station.
And in case you didn’t know it, the only thing better than a firefighter is MANY FIREFIGHTERS.
Yes, they wandered across the street in their yellow pants and their tight navy t-shirts and I HONESTLY FELT MY OVARIES SHUDDER.
It was something to behold.
Of course the BEST PART about having the firefighters there, apart from those tight tight t-shirts, was watching them get all wide eyed looking at the Burning Man community.
Specifically all the lovely girls in fishnets and spandex, bathing suits and vinyl.
Could it be possible that the loveliness of the girls far surpassed the attractiveness of the firemen?
Well, it’s up for grabs, but they certainly gave the firemen a run for the money.
We got to visit the fire station and some of the women slid down the pole.
Now, I don’t know about you, but when I see a pole, I feel like climbing up it then sliding down it.
Oh, that was bad, wasn’t it?!
I got a tour from a wonderful, handsome, fireman/paramedic and I remember virtually nothing of what he said on account of I was looking at him wondering if he might be single.
So when I went back to the party, despite having a growing headache (on account of the cheap booze I was drinking, I think), I did what any red-blooded American burner chick would do. . .
. . . I made out with someone else.