A Hurricane Story from the Yam Pajama Family Annals

4 Apr

Before I get into what I’ve been doing lately, which involves an armadillo, a machete, a bottle of jack daniels specially made for Frank Sinatra’s mobster booze runner and a luxury street legal golf cart (In that order. Get excited.), I want to tell a scary/ridiculous story my mom just told me on the phone. She was telling it because of a really horrifying thing I did last week, which was to separate from my boyfriend, with whom I’ve been having some serious melancholy. It’s nice having my own apartment and all, but also sad, and weird, and a whole lot of other things.

My cat, for instance, is so upset that he is Franken-clawing my curtains. (He also did this to my head.)

 

 The point of the story–according to my mom–is that things could be worse, although honestly, I think that this sounds pretty fucking awesome, and I wish it were happening to me instead of what is actually happening to me, which fairly blows.

Please read this in the voice of my mom, should you happen to know my mom. If you do not know my mom, any general mom voice will suffice:

“Oh, I didn’t tell you what we found! When we were moving, we have all these boxes from when you and your brother were little. You probably don’t even remember that little Tropicana radio we had.”

[NOTE] Of course I remember this radio– it looks like a giant orange, and the antenna is a straw. It was the radio that we brought to the pool every Saturday from the time I was 6 until I was about 15. Is there anything I’d be more likely to remember?

“There is the best story about that little radio. You remember when Floyd came through Orlando?  You were up at school. [NOTE: having a hurricane party that involved a slip ‘n’ slide] It hit us pretty hard, and your brother, your grandma and I were all hiding out under a mattress in the laundry room at grandma’s house. Grandma was freaking out because her husband had just died–you remember, it was that spring–so we were feeding her wine to keep her calm.

Finally, the eye of the storm passed over and we thought it was over, so we told your grandma it was okay and she should go to bed. She was blotto by then [NOTE: actual term used by my mom], and she believed us. Then your brother and I went out and were so excited that we were dancing in the streets next to the tree branches that were down everywhere… only then the storm started up again, and we went running back in the house like ‘AAAAAHHHH.’  [NOTE: Also actual term used by my mom]

“Finally, we had no power and no water still, but I managed to get your stepdad on the phone, and I told him what had happened, and he was like,

‘Jesus, why didn’t you just watch the weather alert on TV to find out if the storm was over first?!’

And then I was like, ‘Ron, you don’t understand. I don’t know what’s going on! I AM LISTENING TO THE NEWS ON AN ORANGE!'”

[the end]

Which one of you degenerates invented this thing?

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