Friday, October 26, 2012
So in light of all the horrendousness that is headed our way in storm form, aka Hurricane Sandy + arctic cold front + pressure cooker of a thunderstorm. I penned together my farewell letter to my parents in case they haven't heard from me by next Friday... it's probably because I've died, because as you all know, DC during anything remotely involving water, be it rain, mist, or busted water mains, can be dangerous, and to be honest, I might not survive.
So below I've copied and pasted my farewell letter, because - seriously... you should too.
Dear Parental Units,
I thought I would pen together a brief email about how I will not survive the Frankenstorm that is Hurricane Sandy...
If the rain doesn't cause a bad driver to kill me in a car collision... The wind will probably cause a freak tree limb to hit me in the head inducing partial brain damage and an untimely comatose state.
But, even if I survive the original disaster that is the storm, the crazies in DC are bound to pillage and plunder following the Pepco induced black out that is bound to happen. I shall have to survive in the basement at work, barricaded behind the double locking doors with only the tech guy's mini maglites to see by and giant screwdrivers to protect myself, and because it will be too dangerous to traverse the roads, I will be in a basement, and you know, it is bound to flood, because the news is portraying the storm to be quite intense...
Should I manage to survive the flooding, the district will be under marshal law, because the untold masses will be dying for food and water, since they did not prepare for the cat 1 hurricane, by filling their bathtubs and stocking food you don't have to heat, and instead will start looting store fronts and houses. If this is the case, I should probs not return to my apartment for fear of the horrible looters. Damn those looters...
So I shall have to make do on the first floor of the office, but there will be no food because it's an office and there's a limited supply of people's left overs in the kitchen... and by Friday, with the power still out, people will start to look quite tasty. So I shall resort to good ole fashioned Donner party cannibalism to survive... and trust me... I will survive this cannibalism, because I have all the box cutters and the scissors in the office (I've already stock piled them downstairs - you didn't raise a stupid daughter, I am prepared for the final battle of me versus the people-food).
And after all my struggles to beat the Frankenstorm, it will probably be the ebola or the food poisoning that will do me in, from eating bad left overs or a contaminated person that ate bad left overs.
I just wanted to let you know that I love you, and my future cannibalism in the face of ultimate danger and despair is not in any way a direct correlation of your parenting.