This fire is out of control.

This is going to be a glorious morning. Do you know how I know? Because it's Fire Guys morning. What's Fire Guys morning, you ask? Why do I keep asking you so many questions, you wonder? You didn't realize you were in for an early morning quiz, you say? Oh you.

In the line of work I do, I see my share of firefighters. They're a large part of the organization I work for. You know that stupid stereotype where women will see a firefighter and completely lose her mind? It's preposterous and, frankly, offensive. I want to set the record straight: it's most definitely not a stereotype. It's true life, baby. Real as Aretha Franklin's love of powdered donuts and "look at me" hats.


Is that a bear claw I see?

If you are a woman and you don't at the very least get a hot flash when you see a fireman then your ovaries are plotting against you. Get that checked out.

Unfortunately, the fire guys only come in occasionally because this is an office, not a forest. There aren't as many fires to be put out here.

Today is one of the mornings where the stars aligned and God said, "Bring the dudes," and for whatever reason, there are fire guys around. There's one standing at my desk right now. Swooooon.

Ahem, focus. So earlier I was minding my own business at my desk. Doing a little typing, sipping a little tea and completely and totally groping myself. It's laundry time so my choice of clean bras has been a little limited. I was forced to go with one that, as it turns out, is trying to strangle my boobs into submission. I had one hand in my shirt, trying to mediate the fight between breast and bra when a fire guy wanders up.

"Uh, morning," he says. Strike one.

I try to play it cool, like this guy didn't just watch me get to second base with myself.

"Hey, good morning," I say. "How's it going?"

He is beautiful. He has a sort of Roman haircut going on, like Russel Crowe in Gladiator minus the body armor (unfortunately). He's young, maybe a few years older than me. He's got a trimmed beard (hello, would you like to father my children?), muscles and a killer smile.

"I'm going to be in the conference room all day," he says. "But I was wondering if you had any Tums? My stomach is killing."

It's because it's trying to tell you that you're madly in love with me. Listen to your body, cute Fire Guy.

I scramble around my desk for Tums. Scramble is putting it nicely. I tore up every first aid kit, every drawer and every shelf in my area. All the while I'm trying to make small talk in the hopes that Fire Guy will realize that I'm hilarious and witty and he wants to elope with me.

"We have 5 first aid kits, one of them has to have Tums right?" I say.

He chuckles. Score. "I hope so. I think I just had too much coffee; had to get up early."

"Oh yeah, what office are you from?" I say.

"[Town four hours away]," he says.

"Oh lame," I say. I was about to say that if he moved to Tucson, he would never have to drive anywhere except over to my place, when I opened a cabinet and a glass vase fell out and shattered. Strike two.

"Shit," I say. I turn to face Fire Guy and he is giving me a look that says, "I didn't know our company hired the mentally handicapped."

"Sorry, but I think we're all out of the good stuff," I say. "You might check with Safety Officer down the hall. That guy has all the good pills." I laugh at my own joke and Fire Guy offers up a pity smirk.

"Uh, alright I'll go check," he says. He lingers for just a second, looking at the digital picture frame on Desk Mate's desk. I start walking towards another drawer to find something to clean up the broken glass with when I tripped on a loose piece of carpet and have to use a fan to keep myself and my dignity from crashing to the floor. Strike three.

Fire Guy was nice about it and pretended like I didn't just feel up the fan. Oh wait, I already felt something up this morning. That joke is tired.

I think it's best to observe the Fire Guys from a distance, lest I make more of a fool of myself. They may fight fires for a living, but they can never extinguish the fire in my heart. Or my pants. Maybe I should get that checked out.