If Sandy Gets Friskier Than Expected

If you've been watching the news, you know that there is a little mess called Hurricane Sandy headed up the East Coast; if you're really into meteorology, then you know there's also a cold front busting in from the West. Essentially, what's supposed to happen is those things are supposed to meet up, and in about four days time, yours truly will be playing the part of Jake Gyllenhaal in a remake of The Day After Tomorrow. Essentially, it's supposed to be a hurricane with winter-like conditions which has me boggled as to whether I should purchase a parka or board up my windows.
As an English and Writing major in undergrad, I'm staunchly opposed to burning books, so once we run out of wooden things to burn in the apartment, we're pretty much done for. And as for food, I'm down to a box of Strawberry Frosted Flakes, 9 mini bags of Doritos, some pesto, pretzels and hummus, and some Disney Princess Spaghetti-Os that is dented on the side. Knowing myself on a hungry day, those perishables will be gone in approximately 4-8 hours. I'm not eating Andrew because I theorize that he tastes like cardboard and long-standing disappointment, and I'm not eating Ben because sometimes he growls at me when we're not in a crisis. So that leaves me with a laptop to catalog my dying thoughts, however many Schweppes ginger ales I can acquire between now and Saturday, and all those pictures I have on my wall. After that, I suspect it will be pretty grim, but I will do everything in my power to maintain as much humor and handsomeness as Leonardo DiCaprio did when he froze to death/drowned back in 1998. And hell... I might be so resourceful in this whole mess that I could survive to see another hurricane.
So with all that being said, I want to get some things out there that I may not get the chance to later, but I think they're important. This is a moment where I'm going to be so honest with you that it may hurt, but I need you to remember that once Wednesday comes all you'll have of me is memories and whatever you can find of my frozen-Jello-Puddin-Pop body. Turn to these stories and think of me fondly. Laugh at and/or with me, and if anyone can ever figure out my Gmail password, I encourage you to continue telling my scandalous stories as a ghost writer... but do it well, because if you don't, I will haunt your ass and give "ghost writer" a whole new meaning.
First and foremost, if things don't go so well, don't look at my search history on Google. Actually, don't touch my computer at all... just throw it away, preferably in a recyclable and safe area so that otters don't choke on it or that its chemical contents don't taint the drinking water of future children. It's not so much for the standard "don't look at my computer" reasons, but more so because I think that some of the search queries in there (without proper explanation) have the ability to defame my reputation for years to come. Some examples: how to make meth,   Columbine and other school shootings, Ryan Gosling, "kitten cannon," and one of the most atrocious "Who is Kim Kardashian dating?" My computer is my fortress for all the knowledge that I'd like to gain without actually having to ask other people. It's full of my utmost personal writing, letters that I've written to people but refuse to send, blackmail pictures of people I don't like, and too many screenshots of Kittens Inspired By Kittens to count. As my dear friend Bridget once said in regard to anal sex, Don't touch it. Don't look at it. Don't even think about it.

If in fact the worst does happen, I respectfully ask that my tombstone is engraved with the message He Went Down Hand Jivin', which I find to be completely appropriate considering that I will have met my demise via a storm named "Sandy." Sure, there will be some people who believe that the entire thing was done in poor taste, but those who know me best will understand just how poignant and fitting it is. I love to dance, specifically things that already have a set rhythm and form. It wasn't but just two weeks ago after two Long Island Teas and some wine that I felt it completely necessary to only ballroom dance at the bar that my friends and I went to. Yes, it embarrassed them (and me, both) once it was all said in done, but if you could have seen my frame when attempting to waltz to David Guetta's "Without You," you would understand.
And over the next couple days, when you think of me as you're sitting in your non-East-coastal homes in the luxury of windows that are not blown out and floors that have not become the lining of a makeshift kiddie pool, understand that this is exactly what I've been hoping for since the inception of Grey's Anatomy and every other TV drama I've watched since circa 2004. If all goes as planned, I will survive because in my mind, this hurricane Sandy business is just the November sweeps episode of this season of my life. Something big has to happen to get the ratings up, and sure, I may overdramatize the next couple days... and yes, my roommates may find me laying in the floor, completely uninjured as I'm listening to an Ingrid Michaelson song, but that's just kind of who I am. They'll leave me there, as I imagine that I have a broken leg or that I'm drowning, but in my mind, that's just the character arc that I need to go through while we're out of power for the next couple days.
In essence, the next couple days may be difficult, but I'm going to go ahead and take a guess and say I'll survive. There will be a lot of wine consumed and probably a lot of time spent reading. When I found out today that I got off of work and school, it was really exciting until I realized that there was no other place to go. So, if you don't hear from me for a while, the power has probably gone out and you can rest assured that I'm just sitting in the living room, staring at my roommates. But in the case of my untimely death, follow the two simple rules listed above, as well as these:

• Give my brother, Casey, full rights to all those Beanie Babies in my closet at home. Most of them were his anyway.
• Make a fan page for me on Facebook. Don't stop promoting it until I have 500 likes.
• Work on getting an annual holiday for me at Maryville College. I would say it shouldn't be hard, but let's be honest... there's like 1,000 hoops you're going to have to jump through.
• Sprinkle my ashes at Dollywood, preferably off Daredevil Falls.

Yeah, that's pretty much it. Wish me luck.