Every day I wake up and weep.
When the clock strikes 6am, I walk into the bathroom, turn on the light, look in the mirror, and shake my fist at the heavens above.
“Why oh why?”, I yell, “was I not born a suburban white girl?!”
Ah, suburban white girls. The most pampered and privileged creatures on the face of the earth. Winners of the random selection lottery. I was but 15 miles and one chromosome away from joining their ranks. So close, but yet so very, very far.
If there is one thing I have learned in my few decades on this rock, it is that Jesus loves suburban white girls.
Case in point:
Every fall and winter, I look forward to cooling temperatures and active weather … especially storms. I love storms. At least the ones that don’t kill people and cause widespread destruction.
Every time there is a pineapple express, I sit at my window with a camera like a kid trying to snap a fleeting picture of Santa Claus. When the winds and rain finally arrive, I go outside and run around the city, coming home looking like a drowned rat.
Once, many years ago, I ended up in the hospital after taking my surfboard out in the middle of a hurricane. Weeks later, another tropical storm passed through the area, and like a Darwin award contestant, I went right back out into it.
Big storms make me feel alive. They break up the monotony of eight months of meteorological banality. For me, good storms are my Christmas present from the heavens above.
Suburban white girls, on the other hand, hate storms. Storms bring wind that messes up perfectly coifed hair, and they also bring “pesky” rain.
While I am laying beside my bed every night, praying for a good storm, Lisa Van Cise is standing by her window, curtains thrown wide open, singing “The thun will come out, tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow …. they’ll be thun!”
And who does Hey Zeus listen to?
Ha! Perish the thought!
So far, in December 2011 … Seattle Center has received a whopping .17″ inches of rain.
Yes, point one seven inches.
Less than one quarter of what Phoenix, Arizona has received.
For those keeping track at home, this is the driest December on record. ON RECORD!
Statistically, on any given day in November and December, Seattle brings a 40% chance of receiving .1″ of rain or more, and in the past 25 days, we’ve had zero of these occurrences.
Keep in mind also, that this is a “La Nina” year. A year that the weather folks preach will be significantly wetter than a La Normal year.
It’s gotten so bad that talks of a summer drought are already rearing their ugly heads. Seattle gets the bulk of its drinking water from “pesky” winter rain, and that snowpack has to last us through the warm summer months.
In addition to a lack of water, we’ve also endured several weeks of poor air quality due to stagnation and a lack of precipitation.
Those problems are for other people to worry about, though. Suburban white girls care nothing of air quality or drinking water. It’s not like they’ll ever go without. If we run out of water, honkey chicks from the east side will simply hop the first plane to Hawaii, shaking their fists out the airplane window while screaming “Eat cake, motherfuckers!”
And so we shall.
If we don’t get some “pesky” rain soon, things are going to get ugly. Cacti will start growing, and before you know it, casinos will sprout up along Denny Way as Rat Pack tribute bands beat a path to the Northwest.
If suburban white girls get their way, Seattle will be but a shell of its former self, transformed into yet another generic desert burg.
The rest of us, those of us who relish clean air and ample drinking water … it’s time to start praying. Praying for “pesky” rain. Lots and lots of “pesky” rain.