Oops, I wet my pants?

And that would have been tragic, considering I was sporting my bangin' badass SNOW PANTS. Yes, those hike up to your boobs, look like your wearin' a diaper pants. I only bust 'em out for special occasions.  And we did get a little snow and ice.  

That's why I was rockin' the couture.  I mean, your news keeps telling folks the END OF DAYS is near (because a few snowflakes are on the way) and you too start to believe it.  So. You dress to hike Everest.  Just in case.  


But all of that preparation doesn't mean jack diddly when you're bustled up in your snow pants,  going on hour 8 of 11 in a live truck. The truck is stuck in the ice, and all you want to do is strip those bad boys off in a fit of joy so you can FINALLY TINKLE.  And when I say *tinkle*, I want y'all to know, that is my effort to be lady like.  Because if I was being totally honest, I would say I needed to rip a FIRE HOSE STREAM of pee like you wouldn't believe. But. I am a lady.   

This is the moment I though the snow pants were in jeopardy.

Thankfully, wee wee, I did not.  It was close.  First you gotta go.  Then it gets painful.  But then, that's when I say REPORTER SUPER BLADDER CONTROL ENGAGED!

What you may not know is that every reporter has a superpower.  After years of enduring 14 hour standoffs, blizzards, house fires out in the boonies, etc. the bladder becomes super human.  I believe many reporters could, if tested, go days without *relieving* themselves.  (That's me being a *lady* again).

Perhaps those same people will develop hella bad kidney stones in a few years.  But, that sure does beat a stream of wet down your pants during a live shot.  Remember.  It's not *what* you say.  It's *how you look* when you say it.