Monday, April 4, 2011

f bombs over brentwood

This picture is super disturbing on a number of levels.

Disclaimer: Under normal circumstance, I am not a puss. [Tangent: Ok clarification...under normal life threatening situations, I somehow always manage to pull courage out of my ass. However, the thought of ET hiding in the bushes, his heart glowing through his translucent skin, his arms all akimbo, is something that I find terrifying to the core of my being.]
chilling, right?
In matters of natural disaster, I have a ridiculous false sense of security, [Tangent: This invisible field of protection is completely illogical given I have two metal lightning rods that support my spinal column, and I do not possess the strength of 100 men should I get caught under falling debris.] probably because the odds of dying in a natural disaster are 1 in 3,567, and fortunately with the exception of some third degree sunburns, Mother Nature has never directly screwed me over. Tornadoes just come with the territory of living in Tennessee.  It seems every couple years, one dances around Nashville, and the sirens seem to sound every couple weeks during tornado season...so really I have become stupid blase about the whole thing.  Well, today I definitely got schooled by Mother Nature (she was a bitch of a teacher), and I am now officially freaked out by storms...potentially for the rest of my life...but likely just for the rest of the day. 

I got off work at 2 pm today and was talking to my friend Josh outside, watching the skies, debating weather the thick black mass hovering above was gonna stick around and get pissy or move on along to a town. As I jokingly went outside telling him, "gotta go chase this storm home Helen Hunt style", I began to regret my decision, so I called my dad who assured me that it was just a little rain [Tangent: My father is the king of downplaying things and is probably the genetic source of this false sense of protection. Ex: It can be four degrees outside and I will ask dad what the weather is like as I'm leaving for work. His response- "I think you'd be OK with a light sweater."]  As soon as I entered my vehicle and pressed the button to raise my ramp, the sky got ANGRY!  As in, my car was blowing around and I felt like I was in a car wash. THIS. JUST. GOT. REAL.



After spewing out every possible expletive combination like a Turret's sufferer in labor, I assessed that I was safer in my car then I would be making the 100 yard dash back to my window-covered office building, thus possibly short-circuiting my chair. [Tangent: After all, my car is kind of a hoss and not to be messed with even by a natural phenomena.] F*#kity f*#k f*#k!!!!!!! Coherent thought went out the driver's side window, and the DJ on Lightning 100 was not helping. He sounded scared shitless as he segued from some REM song to some Decembrists song and he was soon cut off by the creepy storm robot voice.
I decided if I could just get the brown beast from my handicapped parking space to the covered parking garage, I would at least be protected from flying cows.



Luckily, I made it from point holy crap to point B unscathed, without hitting anyone or anything despite feeling as if I was in a washing machine. Sitting by the entryway to the parking structure waiting for the storm to take a breather, my visions of living among the parking garage folk were cut short [Tangent: I don't think its overdramatic to think we may at some point resort to canibalism.]. I was apparently blocking the entrance and someone needed to exit, so being that I am a moron polite, I led them out onto the main road.
I could have used Bill Paxton (or is it Pullman? I'm too lazy to look it up)
Luckily I only live 6 minutes from my office, but it felt like an eternity laced with a yearly allowance of prayers (to baby Jesus, Allah, Jesus, Dhali Lhama Vishnu and all the funky tree spirits) and about 42,000 f bombs.  I broke several traffic laws and was tempted to cut through yards to get there faster, and thankfully, within a few minutes (that seemed like eons), I was home. My dad opened the door saying, "oh yeah, I just heard a twister touched down in cool springs." Too bad radio robot had already scooped him.

2 comments:

  1. First of all - to get a more realistic take on the weather situation, call my mama!

    Second - I spit Diet Coke on the screen when I read the line "Tourette's sufferer in labor"!!!

    I'm glad you made it home safely!

    ReplyDelete
  2. my stepdad is the antithesis of your dad in meteorological situations. in all other ways, they may be mind-twins.

    ReplyDelete

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