It's That Time Again...

You guys know what today is, right?

Okay, yeah, sure, it's Groundhog Day. It's the day when we celebrate the prescient powers of Marmota monax, which is a mixture of Latin and Greek meaning "lonely fatass ground squirrel". In case you were curious (and I know that you weren't), if it ends in an -x, it's typically a Greek word.

Today is also Candlemas, which is traditionally viewed as the day that Christ was presented at the Temple. Mary also had to go to the Temple in order to perform rites associated with recovering from childbirth, a sort of purification, if you will. It is observed 40 days after Christmas. Hey, only 324 shopping days left, slackass!

Also, Candlemas is supposed to be the very last day that you're supposed to have your Christmas greenery up. If you happen to be my neighbor and reading this then...*hint*hint*

And how are the two related? I'm glad you asked! Now, sit down, shut up, and listen: back in the old countries, the English and Germans and other various northern European peoples used to believe that, on the 2nd of February (which is halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox), bears, badgers, wolves, and weird uncle Lute would emerge from hibernation to inspect the weather and determine if they should go back to sleep or not--which is very curious, considering wolves don't hibernate...

While settling the New World, the tradition was carried over and, apparently, since black bears just didn't cut it, the settlers adopted...the groundhog...as the midwinter mascot. Isn't that...just...awe-inspiring?

In case your awe isn't inspired enough, one of the nicknames for the groundhog is the "whistle pig".

All of this shit is just filler. Most important of all, today is Betsy Hagar's Birthday!!!

Now, I've mentioned Betsy Hagar in the past on here. Several times. And usually it was with one hand in my lap and the other slowly tapping out words like "whipped cream" and "tall blonde goddess" over the keyboard. Hey, one-handed typing is not easy. I see some of you nodding. Don't think I'm not on to you. *mouths the words 'Call me'*

Some of you might not be up on the list of young women I lusted for during my high school days. Betsy Hagar was at the very top of that list. She is the one about whom I would write long, involved, erotic stories and then, being that I was so turned on by my own lustful creativity, I'd crank one out while still fantasizing about Betsy. Upon climax I would breathlessly begin to feel crushing guilt over my carnal tendencies and I'd take the paper on which I wrote the story and I'd burn it, supposedly (in my sick mind) as a way of burning the lust out of my mind for Betsy and all the other women on the list.

And it was quite an extensive list...

But, Betsy was different. As I mentioned here, there was a lot of crushes that came and went during my high school years, but the one constant throughout the time was my seething desire to part Betsy's thighs. Despite how badly I wanted her, my mind invariably forgets about her until Groundhog's Day/her birthday rolls around. She's kind of my portal to the "good old days", when things seemed a lot simpler, and I didn't have so many fucking bills to pay. Yep, less debt and long, sexy, gorgeous legs. That's what thinking of Betsy Hagar reminds me of.

So, Happy Groundhog's Day. Let's hope that lonely little Whistle Pig enjoys his day in the sun. And Happy Birthday, Betsy Hagar: you fill me full to the brim with lust and nostalgia.

Death from Above!

I've detailed it several times before, about how truly awful and terrible our weather forecasters are down here in North By God Carolina. Usually, my gripes surround the inability to predict winter weather, typically because a snowy day--or the mere mention of snow--is enough to bring businesses and schools to a halt. I then get a free day off. I think we'll all agree that any day I get off is a good day.

*ahem*

I learned this past weekend that the weather forecasters are equally inept when it comes to predicting rain events. The forecast for this past weekend was originally supposed to feature highs in the upper 80s and storms all weekend long. The weather turned out to be a balmy 82 with cloudless skies for the better part of the weekend. A few places perhaps on the fringe of the "forecast area" saw some rain. And by a few, I mean one. The rest of us basked in glorious spring weather.

Not that I'm necessarily complaining, mind. Weather like this causes the skirts to go higher and the tops to not only plunge lower, but to also become strappier. This makes trips to the local Target, which is conveniently wedged between two large universities, more tolerable, if not pleasurable.

However, I'm thinking I should expand my bubble of disdain toward climactic precognizance to include the higher-ups on the weatherman totem pole. Now, I will preface this by saying that the forecast for tonight did mention the threat of rain, with slight chance of spawning a rumble of thunder or two. Neat. I love a good evening thunderstorm.

Imagine my confusion, then, when I heard that there was a tornado warning for the counties east of Raleigh. Naturally, my kids freaked when they heard this, despite my calm and curmudgeony reassurances that they were under no immediate danger. We made it home and I switched on the weather to find that there were two separate tornado warnings, both east of Raleigh.

Huh, I thought, internally mocking the powers that forecast the weather, sounds like a little more than a rumble of thunder or two.

As the evening wore on, there were more tornadoes. More warnings. And then, while a tornado bore down on the capital city of Raleigh, with another two off to the east, the National Weather System suddenly decided that they should issue the dreaded Tornado Watch for the area. This was hours after the first tornado had already been sighted, reported, and storm-chased. Brilliantly done, fellows! Why don't you follow up with something else, like how we shouldn't trust this Hitler guy or that Christopher Columbus is about to find something! We'll definitely know that you guys have your fingers on the collective pulse of society then.

I realize that this isn't Oklahoma, where they are pretty much under a tornado watch twenty-four hours a day. However, you'd think they'd press the button on the all-powerful weather machine--you know, the one that (inaccurately) predicts the Atlantic Hurricane season and says that drought-stricken parts of the country are going to remain abnormally dry, only to find northern Florida and Houston both flooded a week later--and use it to, oh, I don't know, issue a tornado watch in a more timely manner.

Perhaps that's too much to ask. After all, this is the same group of people who just recently picked up on that warming trend that started 11,000 years ago.