So Tuesday officially marked the beginning of June, and thus also welcomed us into the beginning of Hurricane Season here in the Sunshine State.  The NOAA is predicting that 2010 will see an “above normal” level of hurricane activity with conditions that resemble some “very active” seasons from years past.

Upon hearing this news, the average Floridian replied, “Meh…” and will do precisely nothing to prepare for our potentially imminent destruction…

And don’t be deceived – hurricanes are bad! Think like the movie Twister, but also with lots of water, and alligators replacing the cows that were sent flying through the air like Frisbees … sorry, Tornado Belt folks, but when push comes to shove, getting hit in the face with a giant reptilian beast with even more gigantic teeth trumps getting hit in the face with your average dairy cow any day of the week!  I think even the cow would agree with that particular allegation…

Nonetheless, I guess it’s not that we don’t care … well, ok – for some of us that’s exactly what it is … but I think for the majority it’s just that we don’t care in any resemblance of a preparatory fashion. Call it a result of overly embracing our laid-back, beachfront lifestyle, or maybe just eight too many margaritas, but unless those 120mph winds are literally knocking on our front door (while floodwaters are simultaneously slipping in underneath), somehow the threat of having to kayak down the block just seems too farfetched to be worth the hassle of actually getting up and going to the store.

Then again, not for nothing, but it is really hot here in Florida in the summertime!  I mean, seriously – who wants to go lugging around cases of water and extra sandbags when it’s 95 degrees in the shade outside?!  Forget that…

Of course, unfortunately the end result of our storm-surge-oriented apathy here is that when it does come time to batten down the hatches and ensure the survival of our wee suburban communities, it’s damn near impossible to buy little more than an empty water jug and some stray Pop-Tart crumbs because at this point we’ve been succinctly beaten to the punch by a quaint, little group of paranoid residents that I like to refer to as The Overly Prepared. You’ve probably seen them around – these are the same folks who put blankets over their bushes and spend their afternoons enforcing the local HOA guidelines, and whereas the rest of us would be satisfied with a case or two of water and a few canned goods out in the garage, these folks won’t rest until they’ve got enough reserves stored up in their hurricane bunker to refill the swimming pool from scratch and rebuild city hall entirely out of tin cans!

In this particular setting, you’ll see them as you come walking out of the store empty-handed, each member of the family pushing a separate shopping cart brimming with cases of water and canned goods as if they’re stocking up the Great Pyramid, the only comic relief left being in watching them try to fit several hundred gallons of water into the family minivan.  “I’ll come back for you and the kids later, honey!” Dad’s anxiety announces as he finishes loading the precious cargo into each and every passenger seat before slowly puttering out of the parking lot in the severely overweighed suburban transport.

By now it should be pretty obvious what you need to do, though – just find out where these people live and move next door to them! If you hurry, Dad should be pretty easy to tail by the sparks emitting from his back bumper scraping the ground, and sure, they might be a little obnoxious the rest of the year, but hey, hurricane season is technically six months long, so in my book not having to be on watch half the year is well worth the random lawn care critiques and awkward dinner parties.  And no need to worry about mooching – trust me, at this point with that many kids, your taking a few cases of water off his hands in your time of need is the least of his worries, so no need to feel guilty about it!

Besides, it’s either my plan or you actually have to get up from the couch and go buy all of that crap yourself in this heat!  You do realize that a single gallon of water weighs eight pounds, right?

Yeah, that’s what I thought…

Hey, Old Man Winter?  Ummm … we need to talk.

Look – I understand that being all cold and bone chilling and overall just depressing is kind of your thing, but here’s the thing – some of us live in Florida. We didn’t sign up for this shit.  If we wanted to spend our days with chapped lips and frozen toes, there are certainly places a bit farther north that we could be living … like the North Pole. Instead we chose this – the land of sunsets and beaches and even the occasional bikini, or so I’m told – but this atrocious weather as of late hasn’t exactly been very inviting for fruity, rum-based drinks laden with little plastic umbrellas, if you know what I’m saying…

You see, “winter” for us here in Florida is about having to occasionally wear long-sleeve shirts and closed-toed shoes, not thermal underwear and gigantic, poofy coats that make us look even more like the Michelin Man than we’re really comfortable with! Hell, the other day my wife had to wait for the ice to melt off of her windshield before she could drive home! Ice … windshield … not Margarita glass … is any of this getting through to you?!

I mean, I’m sorry if I sound a little bit on edge, but frankly, this is the second year in a row now that you’ve tried to pull this crap right after the holidays and while we appreciate the sentiment – maybe you’re going for some sort of post-White Christmas Effect or something – it’s important for us to tell you in a constructive criticism-sort of manner that seriously, this is just not working for us.  An overnight of chills here, a blustery weekend there – fine, we can pull out our satirical Floridian Winter Clothes and push through it, but at this point we’re going on, like, three solid weeks of sub-60 temperatures and something’s just gotta give!

This morning I noticed the blankets that my neighbor had strewn through his yard to keep their bushes from freezing and I almost considered stealing them for myself! Forget the plants – people come before plants…

I don’t know if maybe you get some sort of kickback from mitten and hot chocolate sales, but whatever they’re paying you, double it! If I need to take up a collection and have every Floridian throw in a buck, something tells me that we’d all be more than happy at this point to cut back on our morning donuts or even coffee for a single day if only to whisk us back to the bright and cheery, Floridian warmth to which we’ve grown accustomed.  Really, it’s either that or we learn to adapt to this Winter Wonderland climate, with all of the wool hats and long underwear that our northern brethren have become dependent on whenever temperatures slip into the icy cold abyss.

Of course, the chances of that happening are about as likely as Frosty the Snowman building his summer home down here.

Yeah, too soon for that one…

The bottom line is this – here in Florida we’ve come to enjoy a very specific kind of weather, and although it might threaten us with the occasional hurricane or flash flood, those are pretty much the two types of severe weather that we signed up for.  Yep, look it up – there’s a limit, so just like California has earthquakes and mudslides and Kansas has tornados and being absolutely bored out of your mind, here in Florida we’ve already chosen our two as well and cold weather is most definitely not on that list!  I mean, it’s a reasonable misunderstanding, despite all of the rosy cheeks and frozen nose hairs, but now’s the time to correct this chilly mishap.

Seriously, like right now – we’re freezing down here!

Let’s play a game, folks!  It’s just a little something I’ve cooked up in my spare time lately called Things You Never Want to Hear in Florida … in July, and it goes a little something like this: simply choose from the following what you think would be the worst possible thing to hear mid-summer here in the Sunshine State of Florida…

a)      ”The AC’s not working.”
b)      “We’re all out of rum.”
c)      “There’s an alligator at the front door and he looks pissed.”

If you answered A – “The AC’s not working,” you win the prize, which coincidentally is this nice box fan from Wal-Mart that sure would’ve been nice at my house a couple of days ago when tragedy struck our quaint, Floridian household here in the dead of summer!  As for those of you who opted for pina coladas or giant lizards as your answers … well, despite the stereotypes or your apparent alcoholism, let it be known that either one of those things on their own don’t even stack close to the idea of Florida living, au natural.

Maybe both of them put together might come a little closer because hey, when the Bacardi doth runneth dry, opening the door to see if the lizard on the other side came bearing fruity coconut and pineapple-flavored refills may very well sound entirely reasonable, but of course, that’s an entirely different column altogether…

But regardless, by far the worst is still having the air conditioning just mysteriously die without warning, and if it happens after business hours like mine so conveniently did recently, then all the better!  Really, there’s nothing quite like coming home at about eleven o’clock at night after a long and grueling day, only to find that it’s rapidly approaching 85 degrees inside your humble abode … and it’s still warmer outside than it is inside … and there’s no breeze outside whatsoever, even if opening up windows was a minute possibility.  If there was ever a time to call in a favor from that friendly, neighborhood repair guy whose fence you had recently helped paint, now would’ve been a wonderful time to call in said favor!

Unfortunately, though, I have no such recently painted neighbor, and even if I did, chances are *I* wouldn’t have been the first one out the door on a blisteringly hot Sunday afternoon to help him save a few bucks by painting it himself!  Remember, with the Florida heat and all?! So there I, my better half already sweaty and less than thrilled because she’d gotten home several hours prior and was clearly done with this whole no AC conundrum – the two of us destined to bear the brunt of this lack of proper household cooling for at least the next twelve hours or so, all depending – of course, on just how available the repair guy would be to come relieve us the next morning.

And the trouble is that really when you think about it, there’s not a whole lot you can do when such a disaster strikes and you find yourself sweating to the oldies, minus the spandex and a creepy Richard Simmons frolicking around on TV.  Sure, you could spend the night eating popsicles with the refrigerator door propped open, or maybe just make the best of it by falling asleep in the tub, but either is going to leave you in pretty rough shape the following morning … assuming you can actually get out of the bathtub after what I can only imagine would be one of the worst sleeping positions ever!  Nonetheless, my wife and I finally opted to endure the old-fashioned way – by opening all of the windows, turning the ceiling fan in our bedroom up to blow everything that isn’t bolted down around the room in a frenzy, and simply hope for the best.

A matter of hours later, as the sun came peeking up from behind the trees, with songbirds chirping all about, we awoke, knowing that the worst had passed.  Well, there were papers strewn in every corner of our bedroom, it was still scathingly hot, and at one point throughout the night I could’ve swore I heard a wild animal of some sort clawing at the window, but other than that, we were good to go!  Now thoroughly drenched in sweat, we waited for the repair guy to come and lend us his services, which would promptly return us to the land of the civilized.

Twelve hours, folks!  That’s how long I went without air conditioning one hot and sweaty night in July of the year 2009, and frankly, those were probably the twelve worst hours that I’ve had since I moved to Florida over five years ago.  The human body just isn’t designed to endure non-conditioned air, much less temperatures with the digits 8 and 9 in them!  It’s something that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies … well, maybe that one guy, but that’s what you get for cutting in front of me in line for It’s a Small World. No remorse!

So the moral of our story today, simply put, is this – if you live in Florida, don’t ever put yourself in a situation where you could possibly be without air conditioning for more than, oh say, four and a half minutes, max. Buy a second backup air conditioner, make a copy of your neighbor’s keys the next time they’re out of town, or even – dare I suggest it – actually help your friendly neighborhood repairman paint his fence one weekend, if for no other reason than so you can call him in the middle of the night should such an occasion as this arise in the future!  If he doesn’t have a fence, build one for him – trust me, three weeks of digging post holes and hammering boards will be time well spent if it might help you avoid spending seven or eight hours sleeping in a pool of your own sweat.  Whatever it takes, really…

Don’t let your household become just another sweaty, broken air conditioner-related statistic.

Oh good – you’re still here!

Sorry, folks – I would’ve been here sooner, but I ran into a little “traffic problem” along the way, and by “traffic problem” I mean to say that I got stuck behind someone who opted to go approximately .0000002 mph in a 55 mph zone on what seems to be by far the longest stretch of unpassable, two-lane highway this side of civilization. Frankly, I’m surprised I even made it here at all because at the rate I was clipping along, with chipmunks and squirrels zipping by me on the side of the road like I was moving backwards, I was starting to get concerned that by the time I finally did arrive, the home that I knew would’ve by then slowly deteriorated over time, making way for a new golf course or strip mall or whatever else tends to blossom up in the middle of suburbia when something dies a slow and arduous death…

Sadly, this idea of driving without actually moving seems to be the painful norm here in this small, Floridian town that I call home. Some folks “playfully” like to call Florida God’s waiting room, which is cute and all until you realize just how big of a parking lot that God needs for his medical facilities! If you ask me, the almighty needs to look into building a few parking garages or something because his current plan of just letting his patients roam the streets in their cars at the speed of nothing just isn’t working and I’m fairly certain that I’m not the only one who’s at the end of my rope here on this one!

Of course, just like in any community, there are some parts of town that are better than others – for example, the roads not in our town are infinitely more traverseable than those within a lug nuts throw of city hall…except on Thursdays when that one senior center just on the outskirts hosts BINGO night, anyways. And mind you, it doesn’t help that my own particular little village also happens to be one of several specks on Florida’s landscape that plays host to snow birds by the trillions who flock here each winter so as not to wreak havoc on their own snow and ice-laden communities with sub-adequate driving skills and nothing but time to kill until Wheel comes on at 7:00pm. Let me tell you, until it’s taken you 15 minutes to drive a mile and a half because you’re stuck behind a small houseboat driving fifteen miles a month down the highway with its left blinker on the entire duration of the trip, you haven’t truly known misery…

Mind you, though, it’s not only the elderly delaying my transit home after a long and arduous day, as we certainly can’t have a conversation about bad driving without remembering the soccer moms and hockey dads in their mini-vans and SUVs, shuttling a battalion of children to one extracurricular after another in a desperate attempt to live vicariously through little league tournaments and ballet recitals, all the while driving profusely down the center of the road at 20 under the speed limit while barking grocery lists to their significant others or sharing gossip from the latest PTA meeting with others who are simultaneously wreaking havoc in their own sport utility vehicles in other neighborhoods both near and far. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve gotten stuck behind one of these lazy road squatters just distracted enough to not allow me a single opportunity to pass because they’re conveniently speeding up and then subsequently slowing back down each and every time we get to a suitable passing area, I’d probably have enough to at least take a cab a couple of nights a week…which actually might help quite a bit!

Imagine – if only these torturous souls knew of the insanity that they were passively inflicting on the twenty cars lined up behind them. I’d like to think that there would be a general threshold that eventually kicks in when every trip behind the wheel gets a driver aggressive honks, middle fingers, and death threats that one would finally come to the realization of, “Wow – maybe I am a horrible driver! How’s about I do the world a favor and just take the bus from this point forward?!” If only it was that easy, and gumdrops rained from the heavens, and every street was lined with the sparkles of silver and gold, and instead of collecting taxes the government held an enormous, coast-to-coast ice cream social once a year on April 15^th.

Yes, such a world free of vehicular ineptitude would certainly be grand, but alas, our currently reality lies littered with snail-paced drivers and at the end of the day, aside from purchasing a steamroller (which is really expensive – trust me, I’ve looked into it!), there’s little else we can do besides grin and bear it, and buy stock in whatever company makes those squishy, little stress balls shaped like SUVs and station wagons. Just know that the next time you’re out there stuck in traffic behind somebody who would rather do the daily crossword puzzle out of the paper than actually drive anything even vaguely resembling the posted speed limit, you are not alone, for no doubt on a similar highway I’m doing the exact same thing.

The only difference between you and me – I’m getting more material for these things every single time! So look for that new book on How I Learned to Stop Letting Idiots on the Road Get to Me and Love Taking the Bus hitting the shelves of your local bookseller any day now…

You’ve just gotta love the holiday spirit, don’t you? The purchasing of gifts for your friends and family, the delightful flow of eggnog as you divulge secrets from your childhood past that you wouldn’t dare tell your dog sober, and the beautiful descent of thousands of tiny snowflakes falling from the sky – each a little more different than the last – and ultimately all of them piling together to form an impassable mountain of ice and snow, that of which the Abominable Snowman himself couldn’t imagine traversing without a week’s worth of supplies and that pair of monogrammed earmuffs his Mother made for him when he but a wee snow beast. Yeah, of all the fun and magic that winter presents us with, the dealings with snow and its removal on a grand scale are likely at the bottom of most lists, and it’s because of this that during these months I offer up my most humble and sympathetic words…

“Ha ha!”

That’s right, I may get taunts and jeers all summer long as wave after wave of hurricane-y goodness floods over my Floridian home, but it’s all worth it when we get into the winter months and I imagine my homeland up in Northern Michigan, quaint as it may very well be, buried up to its proverbial neck in that cold and unyielding white gold! And don’t get me wrong, from the perspective of the skier or the snowmobiler or the snowman aficionado, having every perceivable inch of the countryside dusted with a hefty, six-foot “massacre” of snow sounds perfectly wonderful – the more the merrier, right? But alas, when factoring together my lack of enough coordination to watch skiing on television, much less stand up on a pair of skis myself, an absence of any inking of an ambition whatsoever to ride a deathtrap flying at 80mph across a landscape covered with all sorts of trees and other large obstacles for me to run into, and finally an unspeakable occurrence that we’ll only refer to as “The Naked Snowman Incident of ‘96” and leave it at that, and without further a due, you have a good summary of exactly why I moved from the snow-laden region of Northern Michigan down to the sunny, snow-free land that is Florida.

Also, did I mention that I never really cared much for shoveling the stuff, either? I guess one would probably just go ahead and assume that, but I figured as long as we were on the topic…

But anyways, needless to say quite a few people seem to be jealous when I tell them that thanks to living in Florida, I no longer have to own such items as snow shovels and ice scrapers and long-sleeve shirts. Ok, well maybe that’s pushing it just a bit – I do admittedly have a couple of long-sleeve shirts in my closet that come out during those bitterly-cold times when it gets down into the low 60’s, but you can sure bet that my snowsuits and thermal underwear weren’t exactly at the top of my list when I started packing my belongings three years ago! In fact, I think my Mom even has some of those winter-type clothes that I used to wear during these times when I still lived at home. She occasionally tells me that she’s holding them for the next time I come up to visit during the wintertime, however I just don’t have the heart to tell her that a) that ain’t gonna happen as long as it continues to stay seventy or eighty degrees warmer down here than it is up there; and b) I’m not exactly as skinny as I used to be when I wedged myself into those thermal undies back in the day!

So for the time being I think I’ll be just as happy keeping on down here in the Sunshine State, soaking up the rays while everyone up north is soaking up the…well, actually you won’t be soaking up much of anything for a while because it’s pretty much all frozen right now, but you get the figure of speech nonetheless! And remember, you’re always more than welcome to stop by for a little vacation if those blustery winters prove to be too much for you this holiday season. Just don’t forget to pack a couple of long-sleeve shirts – it gets cold down in these parts in the winter, too!

Ok, so I’ve now officially been living down here in Florida for six months, and to tell you the truth, I’m actually quite impressed with the transitions that I’ve been able to make to adapt myself to living in this strange, new tropical world! I’ve gotten used to sporadically slamming on the brakes every now and then while driving on the freeway, just to keep the other drivers on their toes, and I’ve surprisingly caught myself using the term “soda” instead of “pop” on more than a handful of occasions. After a single, excruciating experience with sunburn to the Nth degree, I even know better than to spend a single, solitary second outside without my trusty 250-SPF suntan lotion, but even despite such sporadic habitual advancements and more, I guess that there are just some things that I’ll never be able to get used to…

Well let me tell you this – as accurate of a statement as it is, I’d be willing to bet that whoever coined the term “…it’s the little things that kill…” never found himself cleaning lizard remains off the bottom of his shoes at the end of the day – the things are everywhere down here! Whereas back up north you couldn’t walk three feet without running into a tree, it’s a tad different situation down south where instead you can’t walk three feet without reducing the Floridian reptile population…but just between you and me, I’m not completely certain that this is entirely a bad thing!

Now before things wind up getting too out of hand here, let me say that I both love and respect all animals…well, except for cats, that is – they always seemed to have too much of an attitude with me…but I think the consensus around here for anybody who’s been to the part of Florida outside Walt Disney World is that there’s just way too much wildlife running amok – period! We already talked about “my mutant duck problem” here a while back and it honestly wouldn’t surprise me much at all if you catch me writing the “there’s a flippin’ gator in my swimming pool!” follow-up column before too long, so it just makes me wonder how the locals have managed to stand it all these years…or at least how their young ones managed to make it through their childhood years with the correct number of fingers and toes…

So what do you do when you live in a state that is predominantly owned by creatures with at least twice as many legs as you have? Well, other than learn to sleep with one hand on the fly-swatter and the other within reach of the telephone, with the local animal control officer’s number on speed dial, there’s little else that we can do other than simply be prepared for the absolute worst…and then some! Anyone who has ever been burdened with the task of cleaning duck shit out of the living room carpet knows that these things happen when you least expect it, typically about ten minutes before the first date you’ve had in months is supposed to arrive, and let it also be noted that very few people even keep the proper cleaning supplies required for such a task around the house anyways!

Nope, that’s one that I wouldn’t wish on anybody…well maybe a couple of people…but certainly not anybody that I’ve got at least an ounce of respect for! So in an effort to allow everyone the opportunity to learn from my own mistakes, I’ve put together a very simple list here of random, yet vital points to remember when you find yourself living in the middle of a swamp…

1. Never leave your door open for more than three seconds – ever!

2. When you hear that lovely *crunch* underneath your foot, you’re usually better off to simply look away and just keep on walking.

3. If you only killed one, you haven’t taken care of the problem…

Aside from those, however, you’re on your own – I can’t make all of your mistakes for you…at least not this week! Nonetheless, I’ve got a feeling that those of you who just happen to really get a kick out of my misfortune will have plenty of new learning experiences here in the future as your favorite humor columnist strives to make some improvements to his living space, including the addition of plants indoors and possibly even adding a fresh coat of paint. I might even have to supply a few pictures for that one…

But oddly enough, I find myself looking forward to the fumes already!

You know, I always try my best to keep things new and fresh when I’m writing these columns, taking particular care not to repeat topics incessantly until they’ve been proverbially beaten into the ground. I try to do this, but sometimes y’all just don’t give me any other choice…

For those of you who didn’t get the memo, I recently moved down here to Florida from the chilly peaks of Northern Michigan, and for the most part, I absolutely love it! The weather’s warm, the scenery is nothing short of gorgeous (…in more aspects than one…), and the people are as friendly as all get-out. We’re coming up on Thanksgiving here shortly and the temperatures continue to break the nineties on a regular basis, so from any normal man’s perspective, it would seem that things are relatively perfect down here…or at least from any pedestrian’s perspective, that is. You see, not only does Florida have its share of oranges, theme parks, and over-priced souvenirs, it also happens to have its share of crazy-ass drivers (along with the several other states’ shares as well)! I don’t know if it’s because 60% of them can’t see over the steering wheel or if it’s just something in the water, but I think it goes without saying that these Floridian drivers down here need a little more assistance behind the wheel than any driver’s ed. class could ever provide!

And of course, that’s where I come in, ready and willing to happily share my superb knowledge with all those who want to hear it…and many who don’t as well! It’s not that I consider myself to be an expert on this stuff or anything, but it’s mostly common sense, anyways…or so one would hope. Nonetheless, I feel that it’s really my civic duty to bring a few things to light because, damn, you guys are gonna kill somebody – seriously…

• First of all, there seems to be a bit of confusion as far as just exactly how these traffic lights are to be understood – RED = STOP, GREEN = GO, AND YELLOW = SLOW DOWN!!! Just because you saw the light when it was green doesn’t automatically give you the right to go through it when you finally get there…
• Merging from one highway onto another is also apparently a problem, especially if you’re in a larger area, as I am, that happens to have many larger roads. Unless you actually see a sign that says “Lane Ends – Merge Left” there’s really no reason to immediately whip into the other lane or stop until traffic lets you in.
• Also irritating the hell out of me are the people who change lanes while they’re making a turn – those dashed-lines are there for a reason, people! You can cut me off once we’re going straight again, but for the time being, just cool it already…
• Everyone seems to be in a hurry these days, unfortunately so much that they’re unknowingly slowly the rest of us down and they don’t even realize it! Understand that when you weave in and out of traffic, everyone behind you has to slow down to accommodate your rude driving efforts. For the most part, we all know where we’re going, so let’s keep the lane changes to a minimum, eh?
• Emergencies and other sporadic problems can come quickly and silently on the road, so the next time that you’re doing ninety down the interstate, consider what might happen if you suddenly came up on an accident over that hill – can you come to a complete stop in a matter of seconds?! Also important to remember – rain makes roads slippery…
• And for God’s sake, hang up your damn cell phone already!!! You’re a lousy enough driver as it is, and even if you’re not, there are just too many other cellular-toting jerks out there to cover the gap, so either pull over or wait until you get home.
• Most importantly of all to remember, though, is that there are other people in those cars out there, just like you, that simply want to get to their destination unscathed. Some may be in a hurry, while others are out to merely take in the view, so don’t be a jerk out on the road. It add maybe an extra five seconds onto your trip to let someone pull out onto the road from a gas station or change lanes to avoid taking the wrong exit, so play nicely out there and remember the golden rule.
• And if that just sounds like way too much work for you, then remember that driving isn’t for everybody. As cities get bigger and travel becomes more expensive, public transportation and even walking are doing their part to help keep the streets manageable, plus you might even meet a new friend or two, to boot! Point blank, if you can’t handle the responsibilities of operating a motor vehicle, whether it be due to disability or old age or even anger management problems, just do us all a favor and find yourself another way to get from A to B, will ya? I just can’t afford to pay any higher insurance premiums than I’m already paying…