This week, however, I am pretty convinced that surviving the Zombie Apocalypse has got nuh'thin' on the monster that is Hurricane Sandy.
Thanks to the Weather Channel, I now have apocalyptic catch phrases running around in my head like: #Frankenstorm, #Blizzicane and my personal favorite: #Snor'eastercane.
Sounds like a friggin' hybrid holiday, yes?
So, in an effort to get Jim Cantore out of my head (dude, it's way too crowded up there already) I present to you, Twas The Night Before #Snor'eastercane:
Twas the night before #Snor'eastercane, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The pots were all placed by the chimney with care,
In anticipation that friggin' Sandy soon would be there.
The children were all hiding under their beds,
While visions of Hurricane Irene danced in their heads.
With Garth in full boy scout mode, and I'm all, like, HOLY CRAP,
Knowing our house would soon look much like the Delaware Water Gap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from underneath the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Got myself all dizzy and threw up last night's goulash.
The tidal moon looked so cool framed behind our neighbor's scarecrow,
Yeah, when it comes to decorating for holidays, I totally blow.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sport utility vehicle and eight apocalyptic reindeer.
With a little bitch driver, with high hair and a fake tan-y,
I knew in a moment it must be Sand-y.
More deadly and accurate than Doofus-Dawg farts was her aim,
As she whistled, and howled, BITCH WHAT'S MY NAME?!?
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Made me think, why did I bother raking them, REALLY?!? Why?
So up to the house-top the bitch then flew,
I hope she falls down and breaks her friggin' neck too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The sound of explosive diarrhea and was like bitch, PLEASE NOT ON THE ROOF!!!
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Sandy came with a bound.
She was dressed all in faux, from her fake hair to her knock-off Jimmy Choos,
And her clothes smelled like ass-sh, the damn dirty shrew.
Filled with millibars of carbon sucking power so they say,
On second thought, let's just not go there, m'kay.
The stump of a tree she held tight in her teeth,
And a ring of hubcaps encircled her head like a wreath.
Remember the neighbor's scarecrow? It was now in her belly,
As mine shook when I laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the pots with rainwater, the big fat jerk
She nodded her head and snorted through her nose,
When I gave her the finger as up the chimney she rose!
She sprang to her bitch-sleigh and much to our chagrin,
Blew out the lights from here to Berlin, NJ, CT, MA and ME even.
But I heard her exclaim, ‘ere she blew out of sight,
"Happy #Snor'eastercane to all, and to all a good night!"
See? Aren't you glad you don't have to live with me (or in my head) and the fact that I also shortened the original Twas the Night Before Christmas to create this little parody?
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