Tuesday, May 21, 2013

The Sirens Who Cried "Tornado!"

That's what the weather warning sirens have always been where I live, really.  To me, at least.  I grew up taking those sirens for granted, because it seemed like nothing ever really happened when they went off.  

In these later years, the intensity of our storms has increased exponentially on the electrical front and we've had some very strong "micro-bursts" (thanks for reminding me of that word, Sonnie), but we still haven't really seen a tornado in this city.  Not one that could be classified as such.  Not for over a hundred years if I recall correctly.  And I hope we never do.

Thinking about the families in Oklahoma yesterday and all of those families in Alabama and Missouri not as recently, I'm thankful for those sirens, no matter what they cry.  


Does your town have warning sirens in the event of severe weather?


Friday, May 10, 2013

Oversharing.

Because I AM the Writer of Wrongs and because I know you would want to know what's going on in my life:  
(Dad, please don't read this.)

Y'all know I'm a fan of my menses collecting, silicone, vaginal shot glass known as the Diva Cup, but I'm giving maxi pads another go this week.  No real reason for it, I just wanted to see if my feelings for them had changed much since I ditched them a few years back, so I'm conducting my own personal study. 



So far, pads still suck. 


You would've asked me about this, right?


Thursday, May 2, 2013

Dafuq Did I Just See?

Dear Prius Mom Next To Me,

 My query was not "Why is your kid standing between the front seats with her bottle in her hand" as I watched you cruise through the five way intersection this morning.  My question was not even "Why isn't your child belted in".  

My question was "WHY WERE YOU?"

Your adorable child is one short-stop away from having her face planted in your windshield, while you, on the other hand, are restrained behind the steering wheel of your Toyota. 

I'm just curious to know why you bothered with yours.

Some Other Stuff I Wrote