I'm tired of taunting hurricanes. I know you all look forward to it, and by god, I'll try to deliver. But I'm not a machine, people! This is emotionally draining work! If this was the kind of thing that could be outsourced, I'd do it in a heartbeat just so you blood thirsty insult hoarders could be sated! It's all for you, people!
Besides, look at the good it's done me so far: 3 tauntings and 3 hurricanes to hit our precocious peninsula. My record speaks for itself. At the same time, I do have a reputation to uphold, so I can't just quit now.
With that in mind, I've come up with a plan to solve both problems at once. It's a brilliant plan, but it requires the cooperation of bloggers far and wide. If people all over the world donate one single post to a good, hearty taunting of Hurricane Jeanne, then not ONLY will I have successfully outsourced my chicanery (and at lower than slave wages, in traditional american style) but we will confuse the hell out of this hurricane. By my calculations, if we do this just right, then Jeanne will either spontaneously implode, or set a crash course for Iceland.
And you KNOW Iceland's been asking for it.
9.24.2004
Everyone jump off the peace plane
If the man who wrote "Morning has Broken" and "Peace Train" isn't safe from accusations of terrorism, then no one is.
That's right. Cat Stevens (now Yusuf Islam) was refused entrance into the US and sent back to London, that hotbed of terrorism that he suspiciously resides in. As far as I can tell, his only crime is being a dirty-ass hippie with a beard that hasn't seen so much as a Supercuts in decades.
Just for a fun trip down memory lane, lets peruse a few classic Cat Steven's lyrics to see exactly how threatening this bearded devil is to our wholesome country:
From Father and Son: (one of my personal favorites)
"I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,
To be calm when you've found something going on.
But take your time, think a lot,
Why, think of everything you've got.
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not."
Clearly, he's a reactionary capable of flying off the handle any moment.
From If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out:
"You can do what you want
The opportunity's on
And if you can find a new way
You can do it today
You can make it all true
And you can make it undo"
I think this definitely shows his pessimism about the world and his unwillingness to accept the life styles of others. The evidence mounts.
"Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day"
I think the evidence of terrorism is obvious here. I mean, Presbyterians use this song in their hymnals for fuck's sake. PRESBYTERIANS! If ever there was a bastion of 'merica-hating liberalism, it is the presbyterian church.
"Now I've been crying lately, thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating, why can't we live in bliss
Cause out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again"
Yeah, okay. I've got nothing on this one. Must have been cleverly disguised sarcasm. Has anyone tried playing it backwards? I'll bet there's AT LEAST one "eat the flesh of babies" in there.
That's right. Cat Stevens (now Yusuf Islam) was refused entrance into the US and sent back to London, that hotbed of terrorism that he suspiciously resides in. As far as I can tell, his only crime is being a dirty-ass hippie with a beard that hasn't seen so much as a Supercuts in decades.
Just for a fun trip down memory lane, lets peruse a few classic Cat Steven's lyrics to see exactly how threatening this bearded devil is to our wholesome country:
From Father and Son: (one of my personal favorites)
"I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,
To be calm when you've found something going on.
But take your time, think a lot,
Why, think of everything you've got.
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not."
Clearly, he's a reactionary capable of flying off the handle any moment.
From If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out:
"You can do what you want
The opportunity's on
And if you can find a new way
You can do it today
You can make it all true
And you can make it undo"
I think this definitely shows his pessimism about the world and his unwillingness to accept the life styles of others. The evidence mounts.
"Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day"
I think the evidence of terrorism is obvious here. I mean, Presbyterians use this song in their hymnals for fuck's sake. PRESBYTERIANS! If ever there was a bastion of 'merica-hating liberalism, it is the presbyterian church.
"Now I've been crying lately, thinking about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating, why can't we live in bliss
Cause out on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train
Oh peace train take this country, come take me home again"
Yeah, okay. I've got nothing on this one. Must have been cleverly disguised sarcasm. Has anyone tried playing it backwards? I'll bet there's AT LEAST one "eat the flesh of babies" in there.
One more in the series of fucked up events that I call "my life"
Imagine, if you will, a balmy afternoon in the sub-tropical paradise that is central Florida. You've just settled down for a nice nap as you hear the soothing sound of a summer storm outside your window. You snuggle up and listen to the gentle patter of rain falling on a canopy of palm trees. You're so in tune with the rhythm, you can almost feel the water droplets.
Then, you do feel the water droplets.
Fucking water droplets?!?!?!
This is how my Monday started. I woke up and stumbled around a bit, eyeing my surroundings suspiciously. At a glance, I appeared to be inside my apartment. And yet, from my previous experiences with apartments, I recalled that it generally does not rain inside such dwellings.
Something was clearly amiss.
Mr. Wankershanks was a bit quicker on the draw:
"Goddamned fucking bullshit oprah winfrey turdknocker!" was his conclusion. Or some curse-filled variation on that theme.
I was finally able to pry my eyes open... and immediately regretted doing so. Water was streaming down from the ceiling in our bedroom and the surrounding hallway. The bathroom had seen the worst carnage with about an inch of water covering the floor.
Springing into action, I ran down to the office wearing sopping wet clothes and a crazed look of desperation.
It turns out that my indoor everglades was caused by some incompetent roofers. How incompetent, you ask? SO incompetent that they went to lunch halfway through the process of removing and replacing our roof. Apparently, they had completed the removing portion and decided to celebrate a job halfway well-done. And they were SO incompetent that they decided not to cover the roof with tarps, as is the traditional way of the natives here in a state where it rains every two fucking minutes. But they weren't completely incompetent.
They did manage to cover their roofing supplies, which sat in the parking lot near the worksite. Way to look sharp, fuckers.
A few well-placed buckets later, we decided to escape the chinese water torture of our apartment and get some pizza.
Question: What could possibly happen to a leaky apartment in a few, measly hours?
Answer: Everything, dumbass.
When we returned home, we were surprised to find that our ceiling was now our floor. That's generally a bad sign.
And so, for the past 3 days, we have spent our hours wading through shit water, digging through drywall and trying to salvage anything we can for the apartment that we were hurriedly relocated to. I've been assured that the roofer's insurance will pay for everything. Much to my dismay, however, "the castration of a bunch of fuckup roofers" is not included in "everything."
Thus begins my out-of-pocket expenses.
Then, you do feel the water droplets.
Fucking water droplets?!?!?!
This is how my Monday started. I woke up and stumbled around a bit, eyeing my surroundings suspiciously. At a glance, I appeared to be inside my apartment. And yet, from my previous experiences with apartments, I recalled that it generally does not rain inside such dwellings.
Something was clearly amiss.
Mr. Wankershanks was a bit quicker on the draw:
"Goddamned fucking bullshit oprah winfrey turdknocker!" was his conclusion. Or some curse-filled variation on that theme.
I was finally able to pry my eyes open... and immediately regretted doing so. Water was streaming down from the ceiling in our bedroom and the surrounding hallway. The bathroom had seen the worst carnage with about an inch of water covering the floor.
Springing into action, I ran down to the office wearing sopping wet clothes and a crazed look of desperation.
It turns out that my indoor everglades was caused by some incompetent roofers. How incompetent, you ask? SO incompetent that they went to lunch halfway through the process of removing and replacing our roof. Apparently, they had completed the removing portion and decided to celebrate a job halfway well-done. And they were SO incompetent that they decided not to cover the roof with tarps, as is the traditional way of the natives here in a state where it rains every two fucking minutes. But they weren't completely incompetent.
They did manage to cover their roofing supplies, which sat in the parking lot near the worksite. Way to look sharp, fuckers.
A few well-placed buckets later, we decided to escape the chinese water torture of our apartment and get some pizza.
Question: What could possibly happen to a leaky apartment in a few, measly hours?
Answer: Everything, dumbass.
When we returned home, we were surprised to find that our ceiling was now our floor. That's generally a bad sign.
And so, for the past 3 days, we have spent our hours wading through shit water, digging through drywall and trying to salvage anything we can for the apartment that we were hurriedly relocated to. I've been assured that the roofer's insurance will pay for everything. Much to my dismay, however, "the castration of a bunch of fuckup roofers" is not included in "everything."
Thus begins my out-of-pocket expenses.
9.23.2004
Fucking goddamn bullshit...
Why? Why do the hurricanes ALWAYS come on the weekends?!?! Come on, now! I could overlook the death and destruction if I at least got a few extra days off of school to work on my c++ project. Seriously. Cut me some slack, jeanne!
Go ahead and bring your wrath to central florida. But next time, call ahead to schedule the visit! I'd like to get some use out of my PDA before your vengeful floods destroy it.
Go ahead and bring your wrath to central florida. But next time, call ahead to schedule the visit! I'd like to get some use out of my PDA before your vengeful floods destroy it.
9.19.2004
No need to thank me
I'm at work tonight, bored as usual. So I'm going to take the time to let you all in on some important advice that I wouldn't normally share with just anyone.
There's no need to thank me. I'm just using the gifts I've been blessed with to help others in need.
I've mentioned before that there are many important decisions in our lives. Some can be life-altering. Some can make or break you in the eyes of your peers.
Without further ado, I give you: Bikinikiller's Ultimate Guide to Cell Phone Ringtones!
First of all, lets cover the importance of a well-suited ringtone. This thing goes everywhere with you. It can appear at anytime. Imagine, if you will, the following scenarios:
1. You're flirting with a cute guy. Things are going well and you're about to get his number when a friend calls you. All of a sudden, "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys rings out across the room. Do you really want to see him again now that he knows what a dork you are?
2. You're having a serious political discussion with someone. You're doing well and making good points. Suddenly, "Bloody Sunday" by U2 comes pouring out of your phone. Will anyone take you seriously knowing that you used an Irish tragedy to alert you to incoming calls? Oh, it's doubtful, at best.
Now that you see the importance, let's get to the meat of the matter. The rules:
1. Ironic is always best.
Don't pick something that is popular today. Never pick something that is popular today. Ironically hip is always safer because NO ONE has strong musical opinions about older groups. If you pick a song by DMX, for example, you may get some eyerolls from non-rap fans. If you go for, say, The Gambler, by Kenny Rogers, you have accomplished ironic hipness. No one thinks that you actually listen to Kenny Rogers in your spare time, but you've evaded the genre police and shown that you have a sense of humor about your ring. The only exception to this is the Beach Boys, as mentioned above. Don't ask me why, just trust me.
2. Don't pick any songs with a serious theme: political, or emotional.
In addition to the above example, also stay away from serious love songs. That's just pathetic. No matter how much you love "A Woman's Worth" by Alicia Keys, you will look really lame if you start getting misty-eyed every time your phone rings because it's-like-she's-reading-your-soooouuuuul! *sniff*
3. Choose a ring that is slightly out of your apparent style.
For instance, if you typically walk the town toting a Louis Vuitton bag with an astoundingly small poodle poking out, then avoid songs like "Barbie Girl" by Aqua. You'll appear one-dimensional and predictable. Instead, choose a song like "Another One Bites The Dust" by Queen. No one will see it coming and you will show that you're more than just a Legally Blonde wannabe.
4. When in doubt, choose a theme song from your era.
Everyone loves TV show theme songs. The only trick here is to choose one that isn't already overdone (inspector gadget and ghostbusters are officially annoying) and to choose one that you actually remember from your childhood tv shows. If you're in college now, you have no business with the theme songs from Shaft or the A-team, no matter how much you like them. Better to go with Fresh Prince of Bell Air or Saved By The Bell. You know you watched them.
I hope you have all taken something valuable from this lesson. Ring tones are more than just a means to an end. They're an artform. Respect that artform and others will respect you.
There's no need to thank me. I'm just using the gifts I've been blessed with to help others in need.
I've mentioned before that there are many important decisions in our lives. Some can be life-altering. Some can make or break you in the eyes of your peers.
Without further ado, I give you: Bikinikiller's Ultimate Guide to Cell Phone Ringtones!
First of all, lets cover the importance of a well-suited ringtone. This thing goes everywhere with you. It can appear at anytime. Imagine, if you will, the following scenarios:
1. You're flirting with a cute guy. Things are going well and you're about to get his number when a friend calls you. All of a sudden, "Good Vibrations" by the Beach Boys rings out across the room. Do you really want to see him again now that he knows what a dork you are?
2. You're having a serious political discussion with someone. You're doing well and making good points. Suddenly, "Bloody Sunday" by U2 comes pouring out of your phone. Will anyone take you seriously knowing that you used an Irish tragedy to alert you to incoming calls? Oh, it's doubtful, at best.
Now that you see the importance, let's get to the meat of the matter. The rules:
1. Ironic is always best.
Don't pick something that is popular today. Never pick something that is popular today. Ironically hip is always safer because NO ONE has strong musical opinions about older groups. If you pick a song by DMX, for example, you may get some eyerolls from non-rap fans. If you go for, say, The Gambler, by Kenny Rogers, you have accomplished ironic hipness. No one thinks that you actually listen to Kenny Rogers in your spare time, but you've evaded the genre police and shown that you have a sense of humor about your ring. The only exception to this is the Beach Boys, as mentioned above. Don't ask me why, just trust me.
2. Don't pick any songs with a serious theme: political, or emotional.
In addition to the above example, also stay away from serious love songs. That's just pathetic. No matter how much you love "A Woman's Worth" by Alicia Keys, you will look really lame if you start getting misty-eyed every time your phone rings because it's-like-she's-reading-your-soooouuuuul! *sniff*
3. Choose a ring that is slightly out of your apparent style.
For instance, if you typically walk the town toting a Louis Vuitton bag with an astoundingly small poodle poking out, then avoid songs like "Barbie Girl" by Aqua. You'll appear one-dimensional and predictable. Instead, choose a song like "Another One Bites The Dust" by Queen. No one will see it coming and you will show that you're more than just a Legally Blonde wannabe.
4. When in doubt, choose a theme song from your era.
Everyone loves TV show theme songs. The only trick here is to choose one that isn't already overdone (inspector gadget and ghostbusters are officially annoying) and to choose one that you actually remember from your childhood tv shows. If you're in college now, you have no business with the theme songs from Shaft or the A-team, no matter how much you like them. Better to go with Fresh Prince of Bell Air or Saved By The Bell. You know you watched them.
I hope you have all taken something valuable from this lesson. Ring tones are more than just a means to an end. They're an artform. Respect that artform and others will respect you.
Spice it up a little, would you?
Someone actually just prank called me here at work to ask if my refrigerator was running. Jesus. Can't you people be more creative?
Also, a helpful note to whoever called: If you're going to claim to be from our electric company, at least make sure you have the right company. The Orlando Utilities Commission doesn't service Winter Park. Progress Energy does.
Really. I shouldn't have to school people on the art of prank calling my ass. Work on this BEFORE you dial, people. If you're going to use stale material, at least do it with class.
Also, a helpful note to whoever called: If you're going to claim to be from our electric company, at least make sure you have the right company. The Orlando Utilities Commission doesn't service Winter Park. Progress Energy does.
Really. I shouldn't have to school people on the art of prank calling my ass. Work on this BEFORE you dial, people. If you're going to use stale material, at least do it with class.
Love Doctor
http://www.alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/N06540712.htm
According to the shrub, "Too many OB-GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across this country."
Read the article if you don't believe me. I can't even figure out what he was *trying* to say, and, after 4 years of college parties, you'd think I'd be pretty good at deciphering the incomprehensible.
Whatever, George. What the fuck ever.
According to the shrub, "Too many OB-GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across this country."
Read the article if you don't believe me. I can't even figure out what he was *trying* to say, and, after 4 years of college parties, you'd think I'd be pretty good at deciphering the incomprehensible.
Whatever, George. What the fuck ever.
9.17.2004
Let's Get Something Straight:
Reality Bites is The. Best. Movie. EVER.
Oh yeah- you know what I'm talking about.
Lelaina and Troy 4EVER!
Oh yeah- you know what I'm talking about.
Lelaina and Troy 4EVER!
oh yeah-
FYI: I named the last post "damned republicans" for a reason, I swear. I was planning to blame the hurricanes on republicans. Somehow. But, uh, then I didn't. Apparently, I was too lazy to change the title (and still am. don't hold your breath.)
So. That's what that was all about. I blame my lack of coherent thought on republicans too, by the way.
So. That's what that was all about. I blame my lack of coherent thought on republicans too, by the way.
9.08.2004
Damned republicans
So hurricane Ivan is possibly coming this way. Let me just lay it out right now. There will be taunting. Oh yes there will. I tried being nice to Ms Frances-pants and a fat lot of good that did me. I taunted the hell out of Charley and at least he had the common decency to not overstay his welcome.
So what are you going to do, Ivan? Huh? I've already had the power outages. I've already done the contaminated water supply thing. We've dealt with the fallen trees and the flooded roads. To top it all off, someone rearended my pretty new car today because they weren't paying attention to the fucked up traffic light.
So whatcha got, spunky? Cause it's nothing new, I can tell you that much. You're going to have to wake up pretty early in the morning to get me riled, buddy boy. I'd like to see you try.
So what are you going to do, Ivan? Huh? I've already had the power outages. I've already done the contaminated water supply thing. We've dealt with the fallen trees and the flooded roads. To top it all off, someone rearended my pretty new car today because they weren't paying attention to the fucked up traffic light.
So whatcha got, spunky? Cause it's nothing new, I can tell you that much. You're going to have to wake up pretty early in the morning to get me riled, buddy boy. I'd like to see you try.
9.05.2004
The soundtrack of the Storm
When two hurricanes hit in a row, it's okay to get a little loopy. That's what I'm telling myself anyway. Power outages can be a major drag and it's hard to entertain yourself. Since I don't know how to knit or whittle or do anything else so that I could feign usefulness, I sing.
Yup, that's right. I sing to myself. Aren't you glad you aren't here?
So, over the past few weeks, first with Charley and now with Frances, I've been creating what I like to think of as a Soundtrack of the Storm. These are the songs that, I feel, are essential to anyone riding out a hurricane or two (hopefully not three- Ivan, I'm looking at you, here.)
There are several different phases of the hurricane, obviously, so these must be used only during the timeframes specified to create the ideal ambiance.
When you're sitting around waiting for the shit to fly: I highly recommend busting out a little "Waiting for tonight" by J. Lo.
When the storm's raging overhead, my favorites include "Highway to the danger zone" and "Eye of the Tiger."
After the power goes out, and you're all alone and getting bored, "All by myself" and "One is the lonliest number" really set a nice, pathetic mood.
When you're too stir-crazy to sit inside any longer, and you decide to drive around despite the mandatory curfew that's in effect, with your eyes frantically darting to check for the police, a good one to belt is the Walker, Texas Ranger theme song: "The eyes of the ranger are upon you..."
And, just as a general rule of thumb, I find that the song "War" by Edwin Starr is good for just about any occasion (save, perhaps, the republican national convention.) Not because it involves hurricanes, but because it's really fun to sing the "huuuh" part. Who doesn't love that part?!?!
Yup, that's right. I sing to myself. Aren't you glad you aren't here?
So, over the past few weeks, first with Charley and now with Frances, I've been creating what I like to think of as a Soundtrack of the Storm. These are the songs that, I feel, are essential to anyone riding out a hurricane or two (hopefully not three- Ivan, I'm looking at you, here.)
There are several different phases of the hurricane, obviously, so these must be used only during the timeframes specified to create the ideal ambiance.
When you're sitting around waiting for the shit to fly: I highly recommend busting out a little "Waiting for tonight" by J. Lo.
When the storm's raging overhead, my favorites include "Highway to the danger zone" and "Eye of the Tiger."
After the power goes out, and you're all alone and getting bored, "All by myself" and "One is the lonliest number" really set a nice, pathetic mood.
When you're too stir-crazy to sit inside any longer, and you decide to drive around despite the mandatory curfew that's in effect, with your eyes frantically darting to check for the police, a good one to belt is the Walker, Texas Ranger theme song: "The eyes of the ranger are upon you..."
And, just as a general rule of thumb, I find that the song "War" by Edwin Starr is good for just about any occasion (save, perhaps, the republican national convention.) Not because it involves hurricanes, but because it's really fun to sing the "huuuh" part. Who doesn't love that part?!?!
Regress Energy
from orlandosentinel.com:
Attention Progress Energy customers in Brevard county: break out the sofa bed! I'm bunking with you!
As of 11 a.m. Sunday, Progress Energy reported that 16 percent of its customers were without power. Those numbers include:
87,939 customers in Orange
46,500 in Seminole
48,185 in Volusia
1,800 in Osceola
2,400 in Lake
1,800 in Polk
On an positive note, a Progress Energy spokesman said that 100 percent of its 11 customers in Brevard had power.
Attention Progress Energy customers in Brevard county: break out the sofa bed! I'm bunking with you!
9.04.2004
Waiting for my true love
Okay, so I'm not a patient person. And this is getting ri-goddamned-diculous. Can we just get this stupid hurricane over with already? Windy, windy, windy. Rainy, Rainy, Rainy. When is this crap going to go down? It's like a bad movie with REALLY long previews. You don't really want to see it, but you're already there so you might as well just get it over with.
So, I'm back to taunting because I'm tired of waiting in the playground for the school bully to kick my ass. You hear me, francis? Charley could have beaten your sorry self down ten times over without even waking up your big, lumbering ass.
Come and get it if you want it. I don't have flood insurance. That's gotta be tempting. I was too lazy to get sandbags- what more could you ask for? I'm serving up filet mignon here and you're wandering around trying to decide if you're hungry.
So, I'm back to taunting because I'm tired of waiting in the playground for the school bully to kick my ass. You hear me, francis? Charley could have beaten your sorry self down ten times over without even waking up your big, lumbering ass.
Come and get it if you want it. I don't have flood insurance. That's gotta be tempting. I was too lazy to get sandbags- what more could you ask for? I'm serving up filet mignon here and you're wandering around trying to decide if you're hungry.
Let the taunting begin
Now that Hurricane Francis (I know it's spelled Frances, but I'm going to ignore that silly spelling) is a pansy little catagory 2, I think it's time for the taunting to begin.
105 mph winds? I'd like to see you bring those by here, sister. Oh, you know you'll be sorry you did.
Oh, by the way, someone found my blog today by googling the phrase "will hurricane forcasters be ignored?" Ha! You bet they will, buddy boy! Forcasting is for suckers.
105 mph winds? I'd like to see you bring those by here, sister. Oh, you know you'll be sorry you did.
Oh, by the way, someone found my blog today by googling the phrase "will hurricane forcasters be ignored?" Ha! You bet they will, buddy boy! Forcasting is for suckers.
9.03.2004
Thank you, good readers
To the two glorious souls who found my blog by searching for "snowcone kiosk" and "rubbing alchohol herpes" I'd like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for making my day.
I promise to write more about such pressing issues.
edited to add: I take it back. Damn whoever searched for "rubbing alchohol herpes." I jotted the phrase down on a post it here at work so I wouldn't forget it. Except I forgot to throw away the post-it. Now my coworker is eyeing me suspiciously after he walked up behind my desk, unbeknownst to me. Do I even try to explain it? Or is the explanation weirder than the post-it? Thanks a lot, buttmunch.
I promise to write more about such pressing issues.
edited to add: I take it back. Damn whoever searched for "rubbing alchohol herpes." I jotted the phrase down on a post it here at work so I wouldn't forget it. Except I forgot to throw away the post-it. Now my coworker is eyeing me suspiciously after he walked up behind my desk, unbeknownst to me. Do I even try to explain it? Or is the explanation weirder than the post-it? Thanks a lot, buttmunch.
Just Breathe (and think), People.
I think I've mentioned before that I work at a technical college in Orlando. This can be less-than-pleasant during severe weather. The students, mostly, are fine. Students cause surprisingly few problems for the staff of the school.
The parents, on the other hand... they're a headache and a half. Keep in mind while reading these calls that while all of them involve freaked-out-edness over evacuations, orange county has not even requested evacuations yet. Not even voluntary ones.
Call #1:
psychopath: "My fragile little angel is a student there. He doesn't have a car, so he can't drive himself to a shelter. Is the school sending cars around to pick students up?"
Me, confusedly: "uhhhh no. Why would we do that?"
psychopath, irate and starting to get screechy: "Well, if you won't do it, then how is he going to get to the shelter?"
Now, at this point, I could take the fun, but eventually jobless, way out. I could say that his best bet is to lasso up a tornado and ride it to the shelter, or atleast until he runs into a kindly wizard who will hook him up with a brain for his mamma.
But, I don't. Instead, I heave an exaggerated sigh and tell her the number for Florida's disaster hotline. Those poor volunteers at the hotline.
Call #2
psychopath: "Can my priceless son stay at the school during the hurricane?"
me, still confusedly: "No. But he can stay at any of the shelters in the Orlando area."
psychopath: "Why can't he stay there?!?!?"
me, entirely too calmly: "Because we aren't set up for that. The shelters are a much safer place for him."
psychopath: "I can't BELIEVE you would make MY SON stay in a shelter (said with great distaste.)
Now, I should have read to her the definition of "shelter" to provide myself the entertainment of having her realize that she actually lived in a shelter! And that her little prince actually lived in a shelter! And that, amazingly enough, neither of them are too good to temporarily relocate to a different shelter!
But, instead, I gave her the number for the Florida disaster hotline. Those poor, poor volunteers.
Call #3
psychopath: "I need to know how you're getting information to your students about what shelters are open."
me: "well, that's not really what we do. There are official organizations for that... ummm... I'm not really sure what kind of answer you're looking for."
psychopath: "well, my son has NO idea where the shelters are. I can't BELIEVE you aren't doing more to make sure your students are safe."
Now, I should have said that there are these great ways of transferring information called television, radio and the internet. And, amazingly enough, they've all been invented. Even more amazing is that all the major news channels and radio stations have been frantically tossing around shelter information for the past 2 days. Now, if your little brat is watching cartoon network instead of cnn and waiting around for me to do the legwork for him, I can't really help you. Moreover, if you actually expect me to try to call all of our students to make sure they have information that is so readily availible it will soon begin seeping into the Florida Aquifer as informational runoff, then I really don't care if he does get blown away.
But, instead, I gave him the number to the Florida disaster hotline. Those poor, poor, poor volunteers.
There's a lesson here somewhere. And it probably should be that planning ahead pays off and prevents a lot of stress and worry. But that's not it. The lesson here is: Don't volunteer for Florida's disaster hotline. Cause I'm sending a lot of assholes your way.
The parents, on the other hand... they're a headache and a half. Keep in mind while reading these calls that while all of them involve freaked-out-edness over evacuations, orange county has not even requested evacuations yet. Not even voluntary ones.
Call #1:
psychopath: "My fragile little angel is a student there. He doesn't have a car, so he can't drive himself to a shelter. Is the school sending cars around to pick students up?"
Me, confusedly: "uhhhh no. Why would we do that?"
psychopath, irate and starting to get screechy: "Well, if you won't do it, then how is he going to get to the shelter?"
Now, at this point, I could take the fun, but eventually jobless, way out. I could say that his best bet is to lasso up a tornado and ride it to the shelter, or atleast until he runs into a kindly wizard who will hook him up with a brain for his mamma.
But, I don't. Instead, I heave an exaggerated sigh and tell her the number for Florida's disaster hotline. Those poor volunteers at the hotline.
Call #2
psychopath: "Can my priceless son stay at the school during the hurricane?"
me, still confusedly: "No. But he can stay at any of the shelters in the Orlando area."
psychopath: "Why can't he stay there?!?!?"
me, entirely too calmly: "Because we aren't set up for that. The shelters are a much safer place for him."
psychopath: "I can't BELIEVE you would make MY SON stay in a shelter (said with great distaste.)
Now, I should have read to her the definition of "shelter" to provide myself the entertainment of having her realize that she actually lived in a shelter! And that her little prince actually lived in a shelter! And that, amazingly enough, neither of them are too good to temporarily relocate to a different shelter!
But, instead, I gave her the number for the Florida disaster hotline. Those poor, poor volunteers.
Call #3
psychopath: "I need to know how you're getting information to your students about what shelters are open."
me: "well, that's not really what we do. There are official organizations for that... ummm... I'm not really sure what kind of answer you're looking for."
psychopath: "well, my son has NO idea where the shelters are. I can't BELIEVE you aren't doing more to make sure your students are safe."
Now, I should have said that there are these great ways of transferring information called television, radio and the internet. And, amazingly enough, they've all been invented. Even more amazing is that all the major news channels and radio stations have been frantically tossing around shelter information for the past 2 days. Now, if your little brat is watching cartoon network instead of cnn and waiting around for me to do the legwork for him, I can't really help you. Moreover, if you actually expect me to try to call all of our students to make sure they have information that is so readily availible it will soon begin seeping into the Florida Aquifer as informational runoff, then I really don't care if he does get blown away.
But, instead, I gave him the number to the Florida disaster hotline. Those poor, poor, poor volunteers.
There's a lesson here somewhere. And it probably should be that planning ahead pays off and prevents a lot of stress and worry. But that's not it. The lesson here is: Don't volunteer for Florida's disaster hotline. Cause I'm sending a lot of assholes your way.
9.01.2004
Update: the TA from hell
I ran into The TA From Hell in the hall today. He smiled and said "hey!"
This could be a good sign. Maybe it was his way of saying "we're cool. I hold no ill feelings toward you."
Or perhaps, it was his way of saying "we both know that you handed your ass to me on a platter when you signed up for this class. Prepare to die."
This could be a good sign. Maybe it was his way of saying "we're cool. I hold no ill feelings toward you."
Or perhaps, it was his way of saying "we both know that you handed your ass to me on a platter when you signed up for this class. Prepare to die."
My Dearest Francis
Dear Hurricane Francis,
Please note that I have not taunted you once in this blog. I have not doubted your ability to fuck my shit up, nor have I questioned your ability to commit to a path.
That being said, scootch a bit more to the North, if it pleases you, and go do some damage to another state. I hear they have some nice stuff on the coast of Georgia.
If you insist on visiting Florida, I hear there are lovely accomodations north of St. Augustine. The Central Florida area really has nothing to offer. Don't let all those tourists fool you.
Love always,
MsBikinikiller
PS- you fuck with my electricity and I will fuck with you, sister.
Please note that I have not taunted you once in this blog. I have not doubted your ability to fuck my shit up, nor have I questioned your ability to commit to a path.
That being said, scootch a bit more to the North, if it pleases you, and go do some damage to another state. I hear they have some nice stuff on the coast of Georgia.
If you insist on visiting Florida, I hear there are lovely accomodations north of St. Augustine. The Central Florida area really has nothing to offer. Don't let all those tourists fool you.
Love always,
MsBikinikiller
PS- you fuck with my electricity and I will fuck with you, sister.
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