THIS BLOG RIGHT HERE: THE DAY AFTER THE BLIZZARD OF THE CENTURY OF THE DECADE OF THE DAY

(NOTE: May not be actual image from 2009 Oklahoma blizzard)

So for the last week or so, the dudes with ties who tell us what's going to happen with the weather (mostly The Weather Channel, Gary England and this other dude who a guy in the break room was saying got kicked out of school and just has the job because his dad owns the station, or something else weird like that) never could get their stories straight regarding the weather Thursday. (Christmas Eve, duh) First, it was rain on Wednesday, followed by a slight chance of snow. Then, we were totally getting a white Christmas, maybe. THEN, it was something like a sixty percent chance of rain on both days. Then, it was "oh hey, we're totally gonna get some snow Thursday, right on." But then, some time in the morning, right before we were headed off to gay-work, it had changed into:

So yeah, with ominous warnings fresh in our minds and promises of six to eight inches of snow on out TVs and radios, we headed off to work like the damned fools that we are. And God, who has no use for damned fools and has tried to do me in on several occasions, decided that we could fuck right off, ripped open the sky, and dumped fourteen inches on us. Of snow. Coming at us at a sixty freaking miles of hour, like little daggers from hell, which is what it might as well have been. Of course, with States of Emergency being declared, roads getting so piled up with snow, ice, abandoned vehicles, and hordes of the screaming undead* that every highway in the state had been shut down, and only complete idiots even attempting to leave their homes, my workplace stayed the hell open, only letting the out-of-town folks go around 1:30 or so, by which time it was already damn near unthinkable that they'd actually get to where they came from. In fact, I had to stay there, pacing around a mostly customer-free store, cursing every living relative of Sam Walton (peace be upon Him) until 5:30 in the PM, and the store stayed open for possibly as long as two more hours after that. Yeah, those bloodsucking bastards just had to squeeze out the profit equivalent of a really slow, late-month Tuesday, even while this was happening about twenty feet from my front door:

By this time, my car was a total loss as far as getting home was concerned, and I had to get a ride from another dude whose car was pretty much unburied, despite being almost right next to mine. After a harrowing trip home that involved some shithole in one of those giant pickup trucks whose four wheel drive capability apparently gives them magical ice-driving capabilities passing us going about fifty and walking the last half-mile or so, because my street was a wreck and I didn't want to strand the dude over here, I got home. Eventually, I thawed out and took pictures. Here are some of them now:

In addition to death and destruction, this storm apparently had the ability to turn people into Eskimos and dudes from Chicago who were getting punched in the face by The Invisible Man.

Them feets is buried, yo.

Snow drift against one of the buildings here. Coming from a flat place such as I do, I had a lot of instances of "oh daaaaang, look how high that one drift is - Oh wait, that house is on a hill."

The view down my street. This is AFTER the snow plows came through.

The winds we got were strong enough to rip one of the window shutters right off the side of my building...

But where it landed was almost completely free of snow or ice, despite nothing being there but the neighbor dude's motorcycle. Christmas miracle?

Meanwhile, across town in a place where toys are apparently Us, Sarah's truck remained where it had been abandoned the day before, with a good three feet of snow serving as a big middle finger to us all. This was the only snow drift in the entire parking lot, almost as if the forces of nature were conspiring specifically against us.