PUT THAT CASE OF BOTTLED WATER DOWN FOR A MINUTE AND LISTEN UP.
Most of you charming folks I ran into at the grocery store today have lived here for some time. Your whole lives, some of you. And a couple of months ago, “hay guys, hurricane season’s here, you might wanna keep some bottled water and shit around just in case, ‘kay?” was all over the news.
So why is it, that when I am at the store with one bag of cat food and one bottle of Sprite, I have to fight my way past a bottled-water-assimilating clot of rude people in the middle of the aisle and then, then wait in line behind twenty of you fuckers with carts full of water and crackers and powdered milk and Vienna weenies because you think an approaching tropical storm that at last estimate was not even supposed to gain enough XP to level up to “hurricane” lifts the “15 items or less” limit on the express lane?
As the old bumper sticker says, “lack of preparation on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.” Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful already in possession of ample bottled water and non-perishable food and not tripping balls over a wee tropical storm that’s projected to be at the weak end of the “tropical storm” scale when it hits.
Seriously. SERIOUSLY. Have any of you even looked at a satellite image today? Do you notice how this tropical storm has been kind of scraping the coast? Do you remember how Rita did that and ended up burning itself down from a category 5 to a category 3 before it hit? Yes, I know, anything can happen, but the chances of this storm up and going OH HAI, I’M IN UR GULF, BECOMIN CAT 5 HURRICANE LOL before it hits are astronomically fucking slim. We are not going to die. If Carla, Alicia, Allison, and Rita didn’t kill us, I’m pretty sure this little guy won’t either.
Please go drink a beer or smoke a doobie or boink the spouse or whatever the hell it is you do to settle down.
Originally published at Fire of Unknown Origin. You can comment here or there.