What the hell is wrong with the weather predicting world! These goofballs warn me that Ernesto is headed STRAIGHT FOR THE FLORIDA COAST! And that we should all prepare. So every goddamn soccer mom and Nascar dad goes and fills up their gas tanks right away.
Good thing I live by the ghetto; where no one wants to even stop at the red lights cause they're so afraid they're gonna get carjacked. I'm not even kidding by the way; people just slow down before the light and ROLL towards it until it turns green, to which they slam on the gas as if there was a cruise missile in their rear view mirror.
So I filled up; get home and see my neighbor putting up his shutters. So now I figure I have to put mine up to. Cause if a hurricane blows by and wrecks the neighborhood, I don't want to be the one lazy douche-bag that didn't protect his investment.
I go digging through the garage for the shutters and finally find a bunch of them. I didn't know how heavy they were so picked one up to test the weight. It was almost weightless. So I figure I can lift the whole bunch all at once, about fifteen total. Oh my god, it was like they turned into cast-iron sheet metal. I couldn't even lift it an inch. So I try to take half. No go. I tried FIVE and could barely get it off the ground. What the hell is with those shutters! It's like the weight is multiplied instead of added on. Or I'm as weak as a twelve year-old girl scout.
And of course there's no damn storm. It barely rained and I'm pissed. I wanted a barrage of debris barreling towards my shutters, to which they would prevail against the storm. It's like I got my army of orcs together and the enemy showed up with elves with no arrows. You win, but there was no struggle. What a jip!