The fucking WIND, yo!

If you don’t live in Kansas, you aren’t allowed to complain about the wind. Ever. Because you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.

The wind out here these past few days has been vicious. You would think that as a full grown adult, the wind would not be able to uproot you and knock you on your ass all by itself. WRONG! It can, and it does. You’ll be standing at the gas pump, pumping carefully, trying to hit that $20 mark without going over by so much as a penny because when you do it feels like you’ve won a fucking game show, and BAM! A big ass gust of wind comes along and bowls you over. I have been unsuspectingly knocked on my ass by an invisible force more than once…and recently.

But no wind-related incidents that I can remember were as bad as my trip to Wal-Mart this past Sunday. I went to stock up on baby shit - not literally, as I’ll have plenty of that in a few more weeks, but figuratively. I am buying craploads of diapers, wipes and other baby goodies. I figure it’ll be good to have it all ahead of time, because after I wreck my vagina popping out a kid, I’m not gonna feel like going out much. Sound logic, yeah?

So at this particular Wal-Mart, the parking lot is lacking any kind of structure that might protect you from the elements. So if the wind is blowing like a motherfucker, you’re on your own. This was the case on Sunday. I opened my door to get out of the car, and the wind ripped it from my hands. I was just happy nobody was parked next to me, because I wasn’t in the mood to move my car to another spot and pretend like nothing happened. So Peanut and I managed to make it into the store without incident. But when we came back out it was a completely different story.

So anyway, we get everything we need (and a few things we don’t) and go to leave the store. I swear the wind got stronger while we were in there, because when we were navigating the cart through the parking lot, it was impossible to do so in a straight line. Then we get halfway through the parking lot, and the giant frozen pizza I just bought GOES FLYING OUT OF THE CART. Seriously, like the damn thing was made of Styrofoam or something. Peanut starts screaming “OMIGOD MOM OUR PIZZA IS FLYING AWAY!!” And I’m like “SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK FUCK!” Because when I panic, my filter is completely gone. I say whatever comes to mind, and hell let’s face it, it got lost in the wind this time anyway so it’s not like anyone heard me. I choose to believe that if nobody heard me, it didn’t happen. So I totally didn’t swear in front of my child like a careless asshole.

By this point I've decided that I really want that fucking pizza for dinner and I just paid $7 for it so I’m going after that bastard. It was a Sunday morning so there wasn’t any activity in the parking lot, so fuck it – game on. I stooped over and ran, arms outstretched, reaching for my cheese covered salvation, as the butthole wind keeps pushing it further and further away. This was no easy feat as I can hardly even reach the ground anymore, but I was determined. I looked like a fool, I knew it, but I didn’t care. I heard this documentary style monologue inside my head, in the voice of Steve Irwin, describing me as the deadly predator stalking her prey. It was actually pretty awesome. I felt like a champ.

Oy, isn't she a beauty?

  

With the encouragement of The Crocodile Hunter, I caught that bitch pizza. And I think I made my 5 year olds’ day at the same time because she was laughing really hard when I got back to the cart. Although that may have had something to do with the fact that I was holding it above my head like a trophy and doing a victory dance.

*shrug*

At least I got my pizza. And after re-arranging some toppings, it baked up just fine and tasted great. I had three delicious slices. Totally worth it.