The End of Days?

Alert the media. Someone call John Cusack. The end is near. Fire. Brimstone. Seas of Blood. Paris Hilton. The apocalypse is upon us, or, maybe it just feels that way at my office? It wouldn’t be the first time. It’s a common occurrence. Every time any word or rumor of snowfall arrives, everyone acts like it’s 2012 up in the joint. Panic spreads like wildfire:

“I heard on the radio on my way in that we may get some flurries tomorrow.”

“Really? That’s not what I heard. I heard blizzard conditions.”

“My brother’s girlfriend’s cousin heard 20 inches from some guy she knows.”

“Someone told me the snow won’t be snow at all, but rather acid and surgical needles.”

“I heard the snow has transformed into a demon that eats people’s souls.”

“Lord, help us!”

This could be understandable if I worked in say, El Azizia, or a preschool. But, I don’t. I work in Wisconsin with adult Midwesterners who have lived in the Midwest for most of, if not their entire life. They see snow EVERY year. It’s a state staple, like beer, cheese and obesity. It’s as common as shows about midgets on TLC. Yet, they flip out. Why? I don’t know. It’s confusing. Like people who collect $2 bills.

Wisconsin Winter

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

If you know me, you know I hate snow. If you don’t know me, peep this. I hate snow. I hate it more than Tiger Woods hates monogamy (topical). It sucks. But, you deal. You snow blow. Maybe you shovel. Or, maybe you make your kids do it. Your commute takes longer. You drop a few “F” bombs. Worst case, you end up in a ditch. Obla di. Obla da. Life goes on. For most.

Yesterday, the usual chaos ensued as word of today’s imminent snowfall filled the halls. Two workers got all in a tizzy from the escalating forecasts. Panic struck and paralyzed with fear, they informed my boss they wouldn’t be coming in. “Nuh, uh. No way!” they said. “Better safe than sorry,” they said. This was before a single flake had fallen. The roads were clean and clear. And, sure enough, they weren’t at work this morning.

So, as the day wore on, I humored myself with thoughts of them curled up in a ball in their bomb shelter. The hatch sealed shut, rationing their Y2K Twinkies® and SPAM®, fearful of what lurked above.

A SNOWMAN!!! AHHH!!!

Ribs

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One Response to “The End of Days?”

  1. Nicole Says:

    “It’s a state staple, like beer, cheese and obesity. It’s as common as shows about midgets on TLC.” Oh my god, this is GREAT! Thanks so much for stopping by my blog…I am so glad that you did as I will be reading/laughing at yours on a regular basis! Keep it up, Ribs!

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