When Hurricanes Attack! 4: Jeanne
Another hurricane, as all of you fucking know, is about to give it to Jacksonville up the ass. Jeanne hit land on Southern Florida, grew a huge fucking cock, and is now merrily fucking away with her new appendage. Luckily, Jacksonville has had the past 12 hours since Jeanne made landfall to track down a whole lotta KY so we're hoping with the experience she's gaining now we'll get a more tender kind of loving...
HOWEVER:
The power will go out, again (and this time maybe for even longer than 2 1/2 days), I will be hot, sticky, cranky, greasy, I will have to work on Monday -- dispite hell coming down around my ears -- if the power is on in their building, I will lose tasty foods to spoilage, I will have to worry about tornados even more this time because we will be in the northeast corner of the storm... I will continue weeping and hoping nothing breaks my window letting shitloads of water destroy my things.
My local music contemporaries have tried to console themselves by throwing "'Cane Parties." Recently an Argentinean remarked to my best good friend Kara, "You have parties for hurricanes?" I asked myself the same question as I was invited to these parties, refusing because there was no way I was going to be in a car Sunday night when hell -- that the organization I work for doesn't care about -- is coming down around the body part I previously mentioned when I used this phrase earlier in the entry.
You know what? "'Cane Party," to me, sounds like a BDSM party where bamboo is used to thwack fucked-up white people's bare bodies.
I feel guilty for whining and complaining, which only makes me feel more whiney. (Dude, Word says that "whinier" is the correct word to use there.) I should shut up and be grateful that my area of Florida hasn't experienced three direct hits from hurricanes within the last 60 days, I should be grateful that the only thing that a hurricane has done to my house is help my ceiling get even more fucked up, I should be grateful that I was only without power for 2 1/2 days instead of a week like (way too fucking) many. But... I don't want to be.
I want to COMPLAIN about the fact that this will further delay the finishing of 3987289892 entries I've wanted to post forever now, I want to COMPLAIN about the fact that I'll lose power and be hot, I want to COMPLAIN about the fact that I'll have to work if the fucking power is on 5 minutes from my house but not on at MINE (which multiplies the pissed-offedness because power being on so close to your house when you're going into third day without power is like watching-puppies-drown helpless feeling) and I want to complain about another fact, ABOVE AND BEYOND ALL OTHER THINGS, that THE FUCKING HURRICANE SEASON IS NOT OVER UNTIL THE END OF NOVEMBER AND THAT THIS COULD HAPPEN OVER AND OVER AGAIN MANY MORE TIMES E)(*#@(u-2893uy09iu3hnr[opkjnd[oKIN{)@(#$UY)(@!U#P)OIHNDPO:KHLAKHAHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Phew. Thanks, grrlfriend, it felt good to vent.
I really, really, really hope this is the last one and that Jacksonville comes out the other end of Jeanne better than it did Frances. Get together and have Hoping Parties for us, folks, and use canes if you like, sure.
HOWEVER:
The power will go out, again (and this time maybe for even longer than 2 1/2 days), I will be hot, sticky, cranky, greasy, I will have to work on Monday -- dispite hell coming down around my ears -- if the power is on in their building, I will lose tasty foods to spoilage, I will have to worry about tornados even more this time because we will be in the northeast corner of the storm... I will continue weeping and hoping nothing breaks my window letting shitloads of water destroy my things.
My local music contemporaries have tried to console themselves by throwing "'Cane Parties." Recently an Argentinean remarked to my best good friend Kara, "You have parties for hurricanes?" I asked myself the same question as I was invited to these parties, refusing because there was no way I was going to be in a car Sunday night when hell -- that the organization I work for doesn't care about -- is coming down around the body part I previously mentioned when I used this phrase earlier in the entry.
You know what? "'Cane Party," to me, sounds like a BDSM party where bamboo is used to thwack fucked-up white people's bare bodies.
I feel guilty for whining and complaining, which only makes me feel more whiney. (Dude, Word says that "whinier" is the correct word to use there.) I should shut up and be grateful that my area of Florida hasn't experienced three direct hits from hurricanes within the last 60 days, I should be grateful that the only thing that a hurricane has done to my house is help my ceiling get even more fucked up, I should be grateful that I was only without power for 2 1/2 days instead of a week like (way too fucking) many. But... I don't want to be.
I want to COMPLAIN about the fact that this will further delay the finishing of 3987289892 entries I've wanted to post forever now, I want to COMPLAIN about the fact that I'll lose power and be hot, I want to COMPLAIN about the fact that I'll have to work if the fucking power is on 5 minutes from my house but not on at MINE (which multiplies the pissed-offedness because power being on so close to your house when you're going into third day without power is like watching-puppies-drown helpless feeling) and I want to complain about another fact, ABOVE AND BEYOND ALL OTHER THINGS, that THE FUCKING HURRICANE SEASON IS NOT OVER UNTIL THE END OF NOVEMBER AND THAT THIS COULD HAPPEN OVER AND OVER AGAIN MANY MORE TIMES E)(*#@(u-2893uy09iu3hnr[opkjnd[oKIN{)@(#$UY)(@!U#P)OIHNDPO:KHLAKHAHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Phew. Thanks, grrlfriend, it felt good to vent.
I really, really, really hope this is the last one and that Jacksonville comes out the other end of Jeanne better than it did Frances. Get together and have Hoping Parties for us, folks, and use canes if you like, sure.