Top 5 Reasons I Don’t Live in Florida

I took a summer break from writing this blog so I could have a mental breakdown. Now I can check that off my list of things to do and get back to some smart-ass blogging.

As you’re aware, it’s hurricane season, and meteorologists around the country are having orgasms on live TV as they discuss the trajectory of the latest deadly hurricane.

As I watched Floridians escape the last storm, I realized I never even want to visit this horrible state. Here are five reasons why:

Hurricanes (obviously). Floridians are exposed–and not just the nude sunbathers on Miami Beach. Florida is the dangling participle of America, taunting hurricanes and tropical storms with easy access to both its east and west coasts. There’s nowhere to hide from a hurricane in Florida. It’s surrounded by the OCEAN, for God’s sake.

Florida_hurricane_(pre-1900)_tracks

(The tracks of Florida hurricanes, or the route for the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie.)

20-foot pythons. Really, any size of python–and not just pythons. Snakes of every variety and poison level slither into houses in Florida looking for the opportunity to eat the residents. Not cool, snakes. At least in Utah, our rattlesnakes give us fair warning before attacking. I don’t want to wake up with a python trying to eat my head.

Sinkholes. Even Florida doesn’t want to be in Florida. Houses, sidewalks, roadways, golf courses–they’re all trying to disappear into the center of the earth to escape the deadly pests in the Sunshine State.

Crocodiles. These reptilian villains have been around for 200 million years (or 4,000 years if you attend a Christian megachurch in Orlando). These carnivores (the crocs, not the Christians) lurk beneath the water, eyeing their victims before going in for the kill. Creepy bastards.

Feral pigs. Not middle-aged men scouring Florida’s clubs for underage girls, but actual wild pigs. I thought wild pigs were something only found in fairy tales and Old Yeller.

old yeller

(Me, almost 50 years old, sobbing: He was such a good dog. You stupid pigs!)

Better the devil you know, right? At least in Utah I only have to worry about earthquakes, liquor laws, senior drivers, Sasquatch, BYU fans, tarantulas, the state legislature, elitism and the self-righteous. And the self-righteous don’t try to eat my head.

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I’m Thankful For . . .

If you don’t make a list of things you’re thankful for each November, you’re just an ungrateful, selfish American who probably hates kittens and steps on ladybugs. Bloggers are required by law to make a gratitude list to remind their readers not to be hedonistic during this long, expensive, mentally draining holiday season.

So, here you go.

I’m thankful for:

  • Electricity. ‘Cause if I had to live like the people in Revolution, I’d be pissed.

(Fighting bad guys without the help of electricity–yet somehow their hair and clothing look really good.)

  • Pillows.
  • Gravity.
  • Pomegranate seeds.
  • Sleeping babies.
  • Rabies shots. (For dogs, of course. I hated Old Yeller.)

(Really?!?! He had to shoot his dog. Thanks, Disney, for a lifetime of sadness.)

  • Chocolate-covered anything.
  • The end of election season.
  • Being able to grow a mustache.
  • Nair.
  • Llamas with Hats.

(It just never gets old. “Killing people is my least favorite thing to do.”)

  • Fuzzy, warm socks.
  • Raspberry fritters.
  • Colgate.

That sums it up for this year. Have an excellent Thanksgiving!