On Thursday, September 8th, in the Year of Our Fucking Retardedness 2011, the unthinkable happened.  In parts of Arizona, Mexico, and more importantly, Southern California, the electricity went out.  Totally out.  No wind, nada.  Fucking out.  That means no internet, are you listening?  No I’m-taking-a-shit-status-updates.  It was like Bosnia.  I immediately wanted to call Sally Struthers to see if she needed a cookie, but all cell service was also out.  I thought that shit was backed-up by a nuclear reactor.  Guess what?  It’s not, and even if it was, it wouldn’t have mattered, since San Onofre shut down.  What is the point of having two giant nipple boob reactors by the ocean if the fucker needs to power down due to lack of electricity?  I thought that was the whole point of nuclear power.

Twelve hours later, power was restored.  The house smells like a goddamn Hallmark store since all of the decorative candles that never get used actually got used last night.  Mind you, it was pretty, in a Phantom kind of way, but it was also chaos.  It was colorblind Phantom.  Red, blue, orange, periwinkle… colors that are obviously meant for different months, yet, inexplicably, all smell of pine.  The house smells like a wax forest.  All that was missing was the sound of chickens, breaking glass, and a car alarm.  Hopefully we won’t see a repeat of this travesty.  It’s bad enough we have to take our drinks outside when there’s an earthquake.

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