I spent yesterday working on getting the diesel I just put into my rig to run. Part of this process was trying to get the fuel system primed which involved sucking fuel through the fuel hose to get it from the tank to the lift pump. I don't know why it surprises me, but diesel tastes a lot like gasoline, a little heavier...more full bodied...not as dry. Before you get concerned for my health, as you're wont to do, I didn't swallow any diesel. But, as I understand it, the mouth is able to absorb a certain amount of certain things that are in it, directly into the blood stream.
And although I didn't swallow any fuel and I rinsed with water several times, I was burping bacon and diesel all day.
So it was with a little diesel in my system that I settled down to watch the Steelers
game. Or, more to the point of this story, I didn't settle down. As the first half unfolded I was pretty keyed up. Of course, it was a Steelers game, why shouldn't I be?
At this point, I decided to make dinner and opened the refrigerator. It was almost 60 degrees inside. This caused some stress. More than is should have.
Now, you all know how the first half was going, so you know that the last thing I needed was more stress, but there it was. It was a tightening of my chest like a hug from a crazy girlfriend or waking up with said girlfriend's Boa Constrictor wrapped around my mid section. Definitely not the good kind of stress.
At this point, I'm just reacting, I haven't realized that giving the television a good tongue lashing is poor behavior. But a buddy is coming over and I realize that I don't want him to see my psychotic behavior that is every Steelers fan's right in private. We all know that we act different watching the game by ourselves than we do with sane people, or even other other insane Steelers fans. I mean, I suspect they are as equally insane as I am, and I think they think the same thing about me, but I could be wrong, and if they are not going to show me their insane side I'm not going to show them mine. So I try to calm down.
And, by the way, the refrigerator is warming up and the beer is just getting warmer and I need to calm down. I have a beer. Nope, that doesn't do the trick, because when my buddy gets there, I give him a detailed list of who needs to get fired on the Steelers coaching staff as well as a good and loudly articulated summary of the Wallace situation, start to second drop of the current game. He was looking at me funny. You know what I'm talking about.
I concentrate on dinner and making myself calm down. My behavior turns into more of a childish sulk. What was going on? I can usually hide the craziness better. Then, right before halftime, the Steelers get a brake, wake up and realize they are not playing soccer, or whatever they were attempting to play. All I know is it wasn't football, and that's not just the crazy talking.
At halftime, my buddy bails and I breath a sigh of relief that I can shed the facade and be normal, which is crazy. Of course, now, when there is no one around to see me act socially correct, the Steelers take over the game and I should have been having feelings of joy.
Nope, my heart was still racing, my chest was still tight and I was still...tense. Hmmmm.
That's when I realized you shouldn't mix the Steelers, diesel and beer.