me, unplugged

i’m SO over the rain.  to be more clear, i’d rather watch frat boys high-five each other on their success at quoting entire scenes from “american pie” than have to take The Dog on another walk in the rain. (i’ve been watching a lot of scrubs lately, and dr. cox’s snarky tirades may or may not have rubbed off on me a little.) and if you understand my general dislike of the frat boy ilk and (what i find to be) the puerile humor contained within the aforementioned sorry excuse for a film, then you might have a general understanding of JUST HOW TIRED i am of the rain right now.

and not only is it rainy, it is also windy.  so the rain isn’t actually “falling” so much as “flying horizontally.”  which pretty much makes the umbrella i took on the walk completely useless, unless i were to hold it straight out in front of me. which i did. and which makes it impossible to see oncoming cars. awesome. so i ended up throwing up my hands (metaphorically, not literally, as that would have meant i lose my (sam’s) umbrella to the wind most likely never to be seen again), i took down the umbrella and just decided i was going to get wet.  and i did.  (let’s not even discuss how much fun “wet dog smell” is.)

also (yes there’s more), sam and i watched “twister” last night (with an intermission of whisky and smokey treats…mmm), and no matter how many times i watch that movie, i always end up realizing that my entire body is completely tensed up with adrenalin and have to mentally make myself relax.

upon speculation, i think the station programmers checked out the weather forecast before programming last night’s broadcast, and are currently having a laugh at the expense of paranoid folks like me.

an equation for you: freshly-watched movie about large windy twisters that throw large animals and machinery about + walking a 4-month old puppy down a country lane where it is so windy i keep expecting The Dog to go rolling back down the lane like a tumbleweed + my (possibly overly) active imagination = the constant urge to keep looking around like a tornado is RIGHT BEHIND ME and just about to tap me on the shoulder, then sweep me up like helen hunt’s dad.

if i could transfer my paranoia creativity into a more productive outlet, i’d probably make millions.