WTF Wednesday: Fake Hurricane Edition

I know. I know. You totally knew I was going to write about Edouard. How predictable.

But seriously, what’s more WTF than a fake hurricane? Weathermen get their panties all in a bunch. Newscasters do 8 1/2 hours of coverage that even they think is ridiculous. The people at the grocery store have a really shitty day. Friends and family send you frantic emails, text messages, and phone calls asking if you’re alive. The freeway signs tell you to fill up your gas tank. I even got an email from my Congressman telling me what to do in case a storm hit. And because I work at home I didn’t even get to take a day off. Crappy.

But at least it wasn’t like Rita. She was way more WTF than Edouard could ever be because everyone was still freaked out from Katrina. We took all of our poor animals over to my parents’ house and had like 3 days straight of fried frozen food because my mom wanted to get rid of it in case the power went out. I probably gained 10 pounds and took 2 years off of my life for that harlot (Rita, not my mom).

Speaking of hurricane junk food provisions, I think JD secretly wishes we’d have more hurricane scares, because in our last trip to Randalls I picked up some hurricane-friendly junk food like Goldfish and cans of Chef Boyardee. Please note that we generally don’t have these because I do not have the willpower to not eat them immediately. Case in point: the Goldfish are already gone and we had some mini ravioli for lunch today.

Eduardo’s aftermath:

I also got some extra beer because, hey, if we’re going to be sweating our tits off without water or power, you better believe I am having a beer. I am pretty sure if we ever did have a hurricane and lose power for a few days or weeks, we’d be found with broken necks in our backyard because our liquor cabinet is more well stocked than our pantry, and we’d get trashed and jump on the trampoline all day. Everyone who has been to a Saint Arnold’s tour knows that when it’s not safe to drink water, you should have a beer instead. And anyone who’s been drunk at our house knows you’re going to end up on the trampoline.

Not everything about Eduardo was WTF. I called JD’s dad on Monday to let him know it wasn’t going to be a big deal because he generally gets worried about this sort of thing. Case in point: he called us when Dolly hit South Padre to make sure we were still alive…although bless his heart, South Padre is even farther from us than Dallas. So yesterday I called him to make sure he knew about it so we wouldn’t get a frantic email that night. And do you know what he told me? He wasn’t worried, because Al Roker said we’d be fine. God bless Al Roker. And for that matter, SciGuy. If you want level-headed hurricane reporting, just listen to that dude. I have a strong feeling that unless he says we’re all going to die, we’re not all going to die. Maybe Al Roker called him.