“We’re having a hurricane...a tropical hurricane...the weather is nasty...the winds are all blasty...it’s certain we’ll Die...Die! Die!”
A few clouds out in the gulf suddenly get together and The Weather Channel calls it a hurricane...um...tropical depression...um tropical storm. “Oh look ya’ll the Weather Channel says there’s a hurricane out in the Gulf...” “Oh...” The expert reporters immediately fly down and set up camp on the beach for up to the minute bulletins. Then it’s, "Here's your local forecast on the 8's..." thing with the light jazz, while they show a satellite image of a tiny wisp of a cloud... Scooby-do-be-dop-do, you're going to die, do-do-bop-doo-scooby-bop... My usual hurricane boyfriend, Jim Cantore appears on the screen flashing his million dollar sex appeal and he makes me squirm a little then I run around the house and zhoozh up the pillows on the bed in anticipation of his visit and a little tropical tryst. I have a vivid imagination, and then I come out of my fantasy and fall into a tropical depression. Then I think maybe I’ll take a run on the beach, you know the weirdo that appears in the background while Jim darling is doing a live report in hopes that he’ll see me and ditch his crew for a nasty fling behind the dunes. Well, Jim was here for one day and left, oh well maybe the next storm, next week. Tropical Storm Update...Oooh who’s that? “This is the very sexy and gorgeous, humongously endowed, Mike Bettes.” Who? I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before but he’s gonna be my new hurricane boyfriend, that’s for sure.
Mmmm...Mike Bettes...mmm...yeah...Mike Bettes...
Low pressure system indeed.
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