Posted 9/19/2005 10:54:00 PM by Douglas

Rita. Fucking Rita. Ya know, If I thought my house was going to be leveled by a storm named after a woman, I would have never guessed it would have been Rita. Rita was a special Ed teacher in my elementary school, and she dealt with retards all day and reeked of old-lady perfume. No, if I want to lose my house, I want the name to fit accordingly. Esemeralda, Victoria, or Kandice. So who knows? Katrina doesn't sound all that menacing, either, but tell that to the thousands of homeless people in Mississippi and Louisiana.

After numerous phone calls and much driving, I finally found The Home Despot that had half inch plywood, so I got a shit load. The rest of the week will be filled with preparations. Preparing to leave, or preparing to stay, and that's what scares the shit out of me right now: Both of those eventualities. If I stay, I've got to ride it out, and if I leave, I've got to eventually come back to god knows what's left over from the wind, rain, storm surge, looters, and my worthless neighbors that I just know have been eyein' my bar-b-que grill ever since I moved it in.

For a while now I was thinking that a Cat 3 isn't that bad. Then I'm reminded of Mr. Saffir and Mr. Simpson that have taken a lot of the thought out of that particular decision making process. Cat 3? It'll probably be alright, right?

Holy crap, what part of 111 MPH winds do I think is going to be OK???? I defer to the great Ron White for advice in this matter. When a particularly strong man was going to "ride out" a hurricane, Ron offered up this advice:

"It's not that the wind is blowing, it's what the wind is blowing. Because if you get hit by a Volvo, it doesn't really matter how many push-ups you can do."

Truer words have never been spoken.