Apparently my husband is a violent man

This past Friday my company hosted our annual summer party at Utah's best waterpark, Seven Peaks.  Although it's always a little awkward seeing your coworkers in swim attire (helloooo crazy-hairy chest man!  I had no idea!) (but let's be honest, I'm not judging the crazy-hairy men. Josh's back and I had a date with the clippers just before we left), who can pass up a night of free food, free waterpark fun, and the possibility of winning some sweet prizes?  (My company always draws for prizes at these sorts of things.)

After hitting up the free dinner, Joshy and I headed over to the wave pool.  Shortly after, the program and prize drawing started.  My name wasn't called for the first round so we were mostly just chilling.  You have to be present to win, though, and after a few people weren't there, they kept calling more and more names.  They were about to give up when finally my name was called!  Woot woot!  I was toward the back of the wave pool so was trying to climb out the side.  When they couldn't see me, they started talking about calling someone else, so in my haste to be seen, I scraped my leg on the edge of the pool and bolted to the side.  As I was running, I could feel the awkwardness of running in a wet swimsuit (we've discussed the problems with a chest of my size previously), but for some reason I just kept running in front of a hundred or so of my coworkers?  With blood dripping down my leg.  (I'm a class act, people.)  (No, I don't think I overuse parentheses, why do you ask?)

We chose some balloons that had a piece of paper with a prize listed inside, and had to pop it in an embarrassing way (in a swimsuit) to find out what we won.  What did I win?  A night's stay in a suite at Sundance resort that is bigger than my apartment, along with two tickets to the summer theater show, Big River.  Suh-weet!  Embarrassment completely worth it.

(Man, I talk too much and this isn't even entertaining.  This is why I've stopped blogging, fyi.)

As soon as I got my prize and knew my name couldn't be drawn again, Josh and I ditched the remainder of the program and prize drawings to take advantage of no lines at the slides and rides.

They had this inflatable ring with two pedestals inside.  You stand on the pedestals and hit each other off of them with the Gladiator-type, Q-Tip looking stick things.  It looked something like this:

Except we were in swimsuits with wet feet.  And were not wearing helmets.  And our pedestals were not padded.  And were higher.

I took my stance on my pedestal expecting a fun little flirty time of lightly battling each other, and was immediately faced with a man who apparently wanted me dead.

I'm just gonna be honest here, folks.  I was a little frightened.

(I never denied being a sissy.)

The first time he knocked me off, I had enough forethought to jump away from the pedestals, ensuring a soft landing.  After my pleas for a more lighthearted time were repeatedly ignored, I wised up (and toughened up), figured out that I could widen my stance the full width of the pedestal (I never claimed to be a genius either), and finally managed to knock the aggression-filled Josh off of his post.  Thinking I was safe I lowered my guard, and that man who professes to love me took a cheap shot as he went down.  My (stupid) instinct was to try to stay on, so as I fell down my knee clipped the edge of the pedestal.

While Josh could be heard on the other side shouting phrases like, "Sucker!" I softly said, "Umm.. I think I'm hurt kind of badly..."  I'm not really one to bruise easily, but I have never seen a bruise appear on anyone more quickly.  Cuts and scrapes bled, blood blisters appeared beneath the skin, and Josh felt sufficiently crappy about it.  We called it a tie, and hopped out of the ring, glad no one was around to make me get first aid help or something.  We also didn't want my blood to keep me off the slides, so we found a slide that had water leaking out of it, and I stood under it rinsing my leg.

Here is how it looks today:

Believe me, these pictures do not do it justice and it looks waaaaaay better now than it did (the blood blisters are gone).  And please excuse the weird angles; I was trying to take this discreetly under my desk at work.  (I told you I was classy!)

As a side-note, these are the shoes I'm wearing today.  Aren't they fabulous?  (My nickname at work is "Shoes.")