Natural disasters blow. Especially hurricanes…
Sorry, bad joke. But they do, technically. Hard. Debbie Does Dallas style.
Anyway, lucky for me I still have my canned goods left over from last year’s scare. Which I’m glad that’s all it was.
Oddly enough everyone cooperated with Daddy Bloomberg’s orders and everything went into hibernation mode smoothly.
We filled our bathtubs and didn’t take pictures in the empty streets like he warned against. “You won’t be laughing from your hospital bed!” Thanks Dad.
The newscasters all had boners and bloodshot eyes. What a story! Hopped up on whip-its and lines of Adderall, they kept us up to date and ready for the wicked beast that was sure to blow out our windows and claim our lives.
And of course, nothing happened. While they were on location, tied to lampposts and boardwalks, gutter punks strolled by in the background and people went out for coffee while walking their three legged dogs. Not a good backdrop when you’re trying to hype up the public. Kind of blows, (there’s that word again), the story.
Now I’m not hoping for bad things next week. Not at all. I hope the damn thing disappears off into the great blue yonder and skips NYC and everywhere else it’s supposed to hit.
I am however in hopes for a less chaotic few days of over-saturated storm updates on the TV. No doubt the reporters will be up in arms and making calls to their drug dealers, ordering the fist fulls of uppers needed to stay up and cover this shit show.
Coverage of last year’s storm and every other natural disaster from the last twenty years will stream constantly.
I’ll have to resort to watching shit on Netflix and checking the weather channel app on my phone when all hell breaks loose.
Maybe they’ll surprise me and just cover the basic facts and review the precautions without blowing the whole god damn thing out of proportion. Safety first, yes. But freaking out for days on end, no thanks.
Nixon has been shot. We get it. We got it the 32nd time it was played.
Hurricane’s a comin’, tape your windows, (or lucky you if you never took it down), batten down your hatches and get ready. You might get blown away.
Let’s all cross our fingers and hope the newscasters bought all that trucker speed for nothing.
Check out the blog on it's home site @
www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan
Sorry, bad joke. But they do, technically. Hard. Debbie Does Dallas style.
Anyway, lucky for me I still have my canned goods left over from last year’s scare. Which I’m glad that’s all it was.
Oddly enough everyone cooperated with Daddy Bloomberg’s orders and everything went into hibernation mode smoothly.
We filled our bathtubs and didn’t take pictures in the empty streets like he warned against. “You won’t be laughing from your hospital bed!” Thanks Dad.
The newscasters all had boners and bloodshot eyes. What a story! Hopped up on whip-its and lines of Adderall, they kept us up to date and ready for the wicked beast that was sure to blow out our windows and claim our lives.
And of course, nothing happened. While they were on location, tied to lampposts and boardwalks, gutter punks strolled by in the background and people went out for coffee while walking their three legged dogs. Not a good backdrop when you’re trying to hype up the public. Kind of blows, (there’s that word again), the story.
Now I’m not hoping for bad things next week. Not at all. I hope the damn thing disappears off into the great blue yonder and skips NYC and everywhere else it’s supposed to hit.
I am however in hopes for a less chaotic few days of over-saturated storm updates on the TV. No doubt the reporters will be up in arms and making calls to their drug dealers, ordering the fist fulls of uppers needed to stay up and cover this shit show.
Coverage of last year’s storm and every other natural disaster from the last twenty years will stream constantly.
I’ll have to resort to watching shit on Netflix and checking the weather channel app on my phone when all hell breaks loose.
Maybe they’ll surprise me and just cover the basic facts and review the precautions without blowing the whole god damn thing out of proportion. Safety first, yes. But freaking out for days on end, no thanks.
Nixon has been shot. We get it. We got it the 32nd time it was played.
Hurricane’s a comin’, tape your windows, (or lucky you if you never took it down), batten down your hatches and get ready. You might get blown away.
Let’s all cross our fingers and hope the newscasters bought all that trucker speed for nothing.
Check out the blog on it's home site @
www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan