Puget Sound is no place for winter. Our proximity to the ocean means heavy, wet snow. Our proximity to the mountains means too many hills. Our proximity to Canada means sudden cold snaps often immediately after heavy, wet snow. Our proximity to Tim Eyman means too little money to pay for better roads, better equipment, better government, better transit. Our proximity to everywhere else means an influx of a-holes.
Nevertheless, winter has arrived like your mother-in-law: Sneaky, mean, passive-agressive, and with no sense of when to go the fuck home. As a result, for the past 48 hours, I have gone exactly no place to which I couldn’t walk, which around here is no where. Instead, I have watched video after video, news update after update, and picture after picture of stupid, incompetent people doing stupid, incompetent things in laundry baskets, on motorcycles, in their cars, and even on their feet**–to name a few. And I am over all of this non-sense, you dickbags.
As self-proclaimed Governess of the great State of Washington, I have a proclamation to make. Puget Sound is fucking closed tomorrow (Friday). Everything, everywhere, all day long. No one is permitted to do anything stupid or incompetent that involves any type of transportation. Just sit down and shut the fuck up for a few more hours. Tell your boss to go to hell. Tell your kids that they can eat dry cereal, pine nuts, and that expired can of re-fried beans for dinner just one god damn time in their privileged little lives because you are not going to the grocery store. Tell your significant other to go scrape the walk until his hands are blistered JUST LIKE YOU DID TODAY, god dammit. Tell your co-workers that the ice ruined your Internet connection and destroyed the cell phone tower nearest your home. Tell your friends not to call unless they want to bring alcohol and give you some hot, nasty lovin’ in the hot tub. Tell yourself to stop obsessing and squeezing your own belly because you have not been able to go the gym or go for a run for what feels like a month and you have several swimsuit or underpants-themed trips in the VERY NEAR FUTURE.
Mark my words: Tomorrow is going to be a shit-show from a transportation perspective. It is going to rain like a cow pissing on a frozen, flat rock, on top of two days worth of slush, snow, ice, snow, slush, ice, and a fair amount of frozen dog pee and a little bit of blood. Don’t ask. Just prepare for the worst now and get yourself ready to stop you and your friends and family from doing stupid, incompetent shit. It will be a test of mental acuity and common sense, but we can do it. Together. While trapped in the Alcatraz that have become our homes.
This could be you!
**A special thank you to the very fat, clutsy man with a blood alcohol level of at least 327.6 who, after leaving Leny’s last night, entertained me and my intrepid gays by falling down not once but TWICE within the course of one block. The first time, he just flailed around like a Weeble-Wobble on his belly while trying to regain his footing. After our inquiries into his health, he assured us he was fine before marching down to the other corner, where he promptly toppled over sideways into the bushes like a giant Sequoia. He did not even bother to remove his hands from his pockets to brace himself. After our inquiries into his sobriety, he assured us he was completely sober and that he did not need or want any help. We quickly skated away from him before witnessing his inevitable brain injury.
Remember, tomorrow, nothing stupid or incompetent because you do not want to be someone’s equivalent of the fat, drunk Weeble-Wobble for the rest of your lives. As always, you are welcome.
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