Yeah I know it's a beautiful morning out there and you can't wait to plow your driveway with your quad, tractor or side by side but for the love of God, stop depositing your driveway snow out to the middle of a public road and leaving it.
If the plow promises not to deposit the roads snow in my driveway.
Journal entry Day 1:
At laughed at the ritual, I thought it was silly superstition from the locals. I denied their claims in favour of logic and science. But now, with the snow continuing, those "silly superstitions" are coming to pass.
The six loaves of bread are gone. Gone. I can't even explain it with just me in the house. Gone. I'll probably starve.
The three gallons of milk, gone. I don't even DRINK milk! But the jugs lay barren, not a drop between them all. If starving didn't kill me, dehydration will.
And the last part of the curse, oh god help me, the final, horrible part. The toilet paper . . . I should have heeded the warnings. My fully stocked pantry . . . empty. Not a square to be found. I don't know what I'll be able to do. What if I have to take a shi . . . No. I don't want to fathom the horror that awaits. Perhaps I'll starve before facing that humiliation.
So I sit here. Just staring at a bare pantry of food and liquor. I had to turn the heat down, stifling in here. Probably the curse. In the freezer, nothing but steak and bacon and assorted treats but alas, without the bread . . . I can hear death approaching.
Why didn't I listen? Why did I poke fun? Day one. And I know there won't be a day two.
Oh no, stomach is rumbling and not for hunger. I have to go. Why? Why now?
Probably my last journal entry . .
Journal entry Day 1:
At laughed at the ritual, I thought it was silly superstition from the locals. I denied their claims in favour of logic and science. But now, with the snow continuing, those "silly superstitions" are coming to pass.
The six loaves of bread are gone. Gone. I can't even explain it with just me in the house. Gone. I'll probably starve.
The three gallons of milk, gone. I don't even DRINK milk! But the jugs lay barren, not a drop between them all. If starving didn't kill me, dehydration will.
And the last part of the curse, oh god help me, the final, horrible part. The toilet paper . . . I should have heeded the warnings. My fully stocked pantry . . . empty. Not a square to be found. I don't know what I'll be able to do. What if I have to take a shi . . . No. I don't want to fathom the horror that awaits. Perhaps I'll starve before facing that humiliation.
So I sit here. Just staring at a bare pantry of food and liquor. I had to turn the heat down, stifling in here. Probably the curse. In the freezer, nothing but steak and bacon and assorted treats but alas, without the bread . . . I can hear death approaching.
Why didn't I listen? Why did I poke fun? Day one. And I know there won't be a day two.
Oh no, stomach is rumbling and not for hunger. I have to go. Why? Why now?
Probably my last journal entry . .
Yeah I know it's a beautiful morning out there and you can't wait to plow your driveway with your quad, tractor or side by side but for the love of God, stop depositing your driveway snow out to the middle of a public road and leaving it.
Bwa ha ha ha haaaa!!! Nailed it.
I can't believe there are so many people that like milk sammiches to begin with.
Journal entry Day 1:
At laughed at the ritual, I thought it was silly superstition from the locals. I denied their claims in favour of logic and science. But now, with the snow continuing, those "silly superstitions" are coming to pass.
The six loaves of bread are gone. Gone. I can't even explain it with just me in the house. Gone. I'll probably starve.
The three gallons of milk, gone. I don't even DRINK milk! But the jugs lay barren, not a drop between them all. If starving didn't kill me, dehydration will.
And the last part of the curse, oh god help me, the final, horrible part. The toilet paper . . . I should have heeded the warnings. My fully stocked pantry . . . empty. Not a square to be found. I don't know what I'll be able to do. What if I have to take a shi . . . No. I don't want to fathom the horror that awaits. Perhaps I'll starve before facing that humiliation.
So I sit here. Just staring at a bare pantry of food and liquor. I had to turn the heat down, stifling in here. Probably the curse. In the freezer, nothing but steak and bacon and assorted treats but alas, without the bread . . . I can hear death approaching.
Why didn't I listen? Why did I poke fun? Day one. And I know there won't be a day two.
Oh no, stomach is rumbling and not for hunger. I have to go. Why? Why now?
Probably my last journal entry . .
Oh-dark-thirty this am, southbound 2/4 from Cove Point Road. I'm in the slow (outside) lane, going about 55. There's a car in my lane going about 60-ish, about 4 car lengths ahead of me. Right next to him is a pickup, either pacing him, or passing him at the slowest pace imaginable.
Next thing I know, here comes a Diesel Douche with a snowplow blade on the front going at least 70...he was cookin', y'all. There's an acceleration lane onto the 2/4 from Rousby Hall Road, where the Giant and Walgreens are located. Apparently that's also a passing lane for Diesel Douches because that's exactly what he did; he passed the pickup in the fast lane on the left.
There is no time or place where that's either legal or acceptable, and especially not with the way the roads were this morning. I'd suggest to that little dick bastard that if he wants to off himself, a handgun is much quicker, and more sure a method, and you don't have to worry about taking anyone else with you.
Oh-dark-thirty this am, southbound 2/4 from Cove Point Road. I'm in the slow (outside) lane, going about 55. There's a car in my lane going about 60-ish, about 4 car lengths ahead of me. Right next to him is a pickup, either pacing him, or passing him at the slowest pace imaginable.
Next thing I know, here comes a Diesel Douche with a snowplow blade on the front going at least 70...he was cookin', y'all. There's an acceleration lane onto the 2/4 from Rousby Hall Road, where the Giant and Walgreens are located. Apparently that's also a passing lane for Diesel Douches because that's exactly what he did; he passed the pickup in the fast lane on the left.
There is no time or place where that's either legal or acceptable, and especially not with the way the roads were this morning. I'd suggest to that little dick bastard that if he wants to off himself, a handgun is much quicker, and more sure a method, and you don't have to worry about taking anyone else with you.
If the plow promises not to deposit the roads snow in my driveway.
Thats the only snow I throw in the street, why cant the plows just pull up when they get to a driveway thats obviously already cleared? the a$$hats!
Must of had to redo the end of my driveway 7 times now, back in the road it goes!
spoken like someone who has never driven a plow....
If they lift the blade before they get to your driveway they will dump a huge pile of snow in the street. if they do that at every driveway the road would not be passable.
if you keep piling that crap back in the road the plow has to come and push it again.
you people need to stop your biatching, or just ask the plows not to come down your road
Journal entry Day 1:
At laughed at the ritual, I thought it was silly superstition from the locals. I denied their claims in favour of logic and science. But now, with the snow continuing, those "silly superstitions" are coming to pass.
The six loaves of bread are gone. Gone. I can't even explain it with just me in the house. Gone. I'll probably starve.
The three gallons of milk, gone. I don't even DRINK milk! But the jugs lay barren, not a drop between them all. If starving didn't kill me, dehydration will.
And the last part of the curse, oh god help me, the final, horrible part. The toilet paper . . . I should have heeded the warnings. My fully stocked pantry . . . empty. Not a square to be found. I don't know what I'll be able to do. What if I have to take a shi . . . No. I don't want to fathom the horror that awaits. Perhaps I'll starve before facing that humiliation.
So I sit here. Just staring at a bare pantry of food and liquor. I had to turn the heat down, stifling in here. Probably the curse. In the freezer, nothing but steak and bacon and assorted treats but alas, without the bread . . . I can hear death approaching.
Why didn't I listen? Why did I poke fun? Day one. And I know there won't be a day two.
Oh no, stomach is rumbling and not for hunger. I have to go. Why? Why now?
Probably my last journal entry . .