Friday, February 01, 2008
Dear (insert deity of choice):
I know we’ve had this discussion before – to no avail, I might add – but are you kidding me? 30 to 40 centimetres of snow by tomorrow morning? If you make it stop, I promise not to call Patrick a corpulent, mullet-sporting fuckwit for at least a week. Hmmmm. How about 5 days? Okay ... 2 days and that’s my final offer. We’re sooooooo screwed.
P.S. I realize that I will always be my mother’s child but I’ve managed to live on my own for years with no major disasters. Can you please ask her to stop calling me prior to every snowfall to make sure that I have enough food, water, toilet paper, batteries, bandages, life rafts, emergency flares, etc? Thanks – you’re a peach.
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6 comments:
Hi LuLu,
Your mother just called, she wants to know if you have enough refreshements to wait out the storm.
What should I tell her?
Tell her I'm running low on Grey Goose. And yes, this does constitute an emergency.
All kidding aside, the snow plow just went by and left about 2 feet of snow at the end of my driveway. I'm never leaving again ... or at least not until my guy comes and clears it out.
When I got home from work the driveway was pretty clear Turns out that the missus went out every few hours and shoveled the driveway so there wouldn't be a huge mound o' snow when I got home.
As for moms calling--I moved out when I was 19--over 2 decades ago and I still get calls and/or e-mails making sure I'm okay.
It seems to be a genetic mommy thing.
Speaking from personal experience, one can never have enough liferafts. This is particularly true if... oh, never mind.
In the event you have to inflate a liferaft, ensure you have at least two boxes of wine onboard: one white; one red.
Decanters help too.
Your mother called to ask if you have a Search and Rescue Transponder. I believe she's willing to buy a radar to assist in locating you in the event of a disaster.
Should I pass on your nod?
The nice snow plow driver, who is Satan's minion, just went by again. It's now about 3 feet high - at least it's stopped snowing.
And Dave, if my mother could somehow manage to attach GPS tracking devices to her children and grandchildren, she'd do it. Trust me. So I don't want you talking to her and giving her any ideas.
P.S. Patrick is a corpulent, mullet-sporting fuckwit.
GPS devices on your kids... Good grief, get a life. I mean, sure, the thought may have crossed our minds once in while, but really... who could be bothered? Thank goodness, I'm past having to even bother with any seriousness about his kind of paranoiac nonsense.
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