First thought: Why is that dog scratching so hard that it shakes the house?
Second thought: Uh-oh, earthquake?
Third thought: UH-OH. EARTHQUAKE!
Fourth thought: I don't want to die in the bathroom. That would suck.
Fifth thought: Huh. That's all? No biggie.
Turns out it was a 4.2 which is really just a "truck passing" on the Jim scale.
The Jim Scale of Earthquakes:
Someone heavy walks by in an old building.
Large truck drives by outside.
Bottles rattle in kitchen.
Train drives by a few blocks away.
Train drives by on nonexistent track in front of house.
Train hits house.
So then I wondered if it was perhaps bigger somewhere else, say, further away. And I went and looked for it online. Even the news media are nonplussed by it. Here's the top stories.
It's last. After two celebrity stories and a beauty queen.
12 comments:
I bet 'Dusty Gibbs' sports a brazilian. I'm just saying.
Related note: I've always dreamed of watching/smelling The Tournament of Roses parade IN PERSON. Frankly, as a young homo in training I wanted the queen's damn crown every blasted New Year's day!
Then my Dad watched football while I took the tree down and cried.
I've been here for 15+ years and have never attended the Rose parade. Such a logistical nightmare.
However it has been a great sales tool in getting people to move here. They sit at home in ice and snow, while we eat outside and wear flip flops watching floats made of flowers glide by...
Huh! There was an earthquake last night? Where was I? Oh yeah. Here. In bed. Never felt a thing.
Wow, I never experienced an earthquake before.....I think I would have shit myself.
Well, to be fair, of course it is last on the news list. A writers strike would bring down the economy of the entire country!
A tornado hit Oklahoma, an earthquake hit Cali. It was a little foggy this morning in Chicagoland. Hmmmmmm. I'm just sayin'....
Oh...and I'm betting it's a Moby on ol' Dusty. The swimsuit competition is no time for a roque pube.
T-Dude - Any minute now a very cold front of weather is coming to bury your home in 8 feet of snow. I've got tomatoes on the vine and I'm wearing flip-flops. I'm just saying.
And what the hell is a Moby?
You know, Elvis died in the bathroom. I'm just saying.
Even 8 feet of snow wouldn't keep me away from FRONT ROW CENTER at the Morrissey concert tonight.
I'm just saying.
Yup.
Just sayin.'
Moby -- hairless down there, unlike a regular brazilian that leaves a thin landing strip.
did it make you shit any faster?
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