Scary Beach Crime Scene Photos; Pandering; Hello!
That is the only title I could think of for this entry, because that is what I am going to show you, is Scary Beach Crime Scene Photos. And then I am going to pander. And at some point I will say hi. Anyway! People! Allow me to explain.
See, we finally made it out of Birmingham on Tuesday, and started driving to Gulf Shores, because my dad called the Gulf Shores Department of Commerce or Tourism or something similar, but what should actually be called the Department of Big Fat Stinking Liars, Liar Liar Pants on FIRE, because this is what happened.
Dad called and said, "Hello. My family has been trying to get into Gulf Shores for six days, but then, you know, hurricane, and now we can't get in touch with the condo people, and we don't know if we should come..."
And the Department of Lying Lying Dogs lady interrupted him and said, "COME IMMEDIATELY RIGHT NOW EVERYTHING IS FINE BRING YOUR CREDIT CARDS CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU YAY TOURISM."
Dad believed her, and so we all packed up and left the relative safety of Birmingham, and we drove to Gulf Shores. And it wasn't until we were, oh, I don't know, MINUTES from there that the condo people finally deigned to call us back and inform us that, HA HA, you were lied to, and nobody is allowed in to the whole damn city.
So! Now we are kind of in Alabama-ish, and without lodging, and I am getting cranky like I do. So we pulled over to a gas station in the middle of Nowhere, Inbetween States, and Mom and Dad were both on their cell phones, trying to find somewhere, ANYwhere, that would take us in for the night.
We were kind of like Joseph and Mary right then, don't you think? Except not holy. Just irritated.
ANYWAY. They found somewhere. It was 200 miles away, BUT WHATEVER, we have cars and gas at $3.17 a gallon. So, we drove on, stayed in Alternate City (it was lovely), and then this morning, the condo people called again. And apparently they had gotten some lessons from the tourism dirty liar lady, or there had been some kind of meeting of Gulf Shores People Who Live On Tourist Dollars, because they were like, "PLEASE COME NOW WE UPGRADED YOU EVEN KISSES!"
So we went. And we drove all day, because there is traffic of people who are trying to do important things like "find out if their homes are still standing and family members are alive", and I waved out the windows all day at other cars in a manner that I hope conveyed "friendly" and not "prostitute trying to pick up strangers in her car". And as we got closer, we began to see things like:
(1) Houses that were missing key ingredients, like:
(c) both (a) and (b)
(2) power lines all over the place
(3) fire trucks.
None of these things were encouraging. But at this point, the family was like, "WHATEVER, we're going to the GODDAMN BEACH, and we don't CARE if there is no power and no water, ALL WE NEED IS SOME FUCKING OCEAN."
And so we went on.
We arrived in Gulf Shores and pulled into the condo complex, where we were immediately informed by the lady at the gate that they were, in fact, not allowing people to check in today, where EVER did we get such a notion, please go home you IDIOTS, etc.
And this is where mom and I had to wait in our respective cars, because this is also where we both grew fangs and mean long fingernails-claw things and decided we would just EAT the people at the front desk, BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT WE DO IN MY FAMILY when we get really really pissed. We eat people! We eat them whole.
Dad, however, is all "reasonable" (read: LAME) and locked us into our cars and forbade us to leave and went in to talk to the people at the front desk. And he did not eat them, and within three minutes, we had keys to condos and everything was FINE, and something about catching more flies with honey but I wasn't paying attention because I still wanted SOMEONE TO DIE AND I WANTED TO EAT THEM because WHO THE FUCK spends three days trying to travel 200 miles? BESIDES THE AMISH?
But anyway. So, now we are at the condo, and it's great and we even have internet service, which is good because HI, EVERYONE! What we did not have, for the first four hours upon checking in, was:
What we still do not have, and who knows when we will have this, is:
And now is where we actually get to the point of this entry, which is where I show you pictures of THE CREEPINESS that is the beach right now. Shudder! You can close your eyes if you get too scared.
See (and now we talk science), apparently, in a hurricane, the ocean just...gives back all of those things that it doesn't want. And there are a lot of things that people put into the ocean, because some bad people do NOT follow the life lesson of Giving a Hoot, and they just toss in any old thing (mostly these are beer cans. FOR SHAME, Beer Can Thrower-Inners!).
And also, during the hurricane, the ocean also took some stuff that does not belong to the ocean, like doors and windows and other things, because the ocean is a kleptomaniac. The ocean kind of needs counseling.
So, right now, instead of "beach," there is a long line of debris. And I've never seen anything like it. It is...creepy. It looks like a crime scene, especially when you find things like clothes and shoes and boots and almost brand-new colanders, and I am CONVINCED that it is just chock-full of skeleton bits from old shipwrecks (which...yes, I recognize and admit that this makes no sense, but WHATEVER), and it is FREAKY.
The freakiness factor did not prevent me from wandering out into the middle of it all and taking approximately one zillion pictures of the rubble. And here I share with you, because Self = GIVER, SUCH A GIVER.
And here they are.
Now. As creepy as all of that is (SO CREEPY), I am well aware that I am pretty fucking lucky to be sitting here now with a glass of wine, knowing that everyone I love (including the dogs. Oh, y'all, I have called the vet EVERY HOUR ON THE HOUR about the dogs and their safety, and the vet hates me SO MUCH), and I am able to update my little web page and say hi to everyone. (HI EVERYONE!). I've got it pretty damn good. So many people can't do any of that, including all of those lovely, classy ladies from Pascalgula, Mississippi, with whom I spent the last several days. They have...nothing. Their homes are fucking gone. Last time I saw them, we all had a cocktail, and they were joking about what color FEMA trailer they would request (turns out, pink is everyone's signature color).
So, let's do something...interesting and different. I'm going to ask anyone who can, to send a donation to the Red Cross for disaster relief. And, when you send a donation, leave me a comment or send me an email telling me that you've donated (of course, you don't have to tell me how much; just let me know that you're in). And I will take all of those names, and I will have a raffle, and someone will win, and that someone will recieve one of my paintings. (Wait! Y'all! Did you not know that I paint? I don't think I've ever posted pictures of my paintings. Anyway, I do. They are...you know. Interesting.)
SO! It's kind of...lame, but what do you have to lose? You may end up with a painting you hate, but THAT IS WHY JESUS GAVE YOU EBAY. And anyway, it's a Miss Doxie original, and surely that will be worth SOMEthing when I am dead. So donate away.
And if you can't, at least send positive thoughts and good vibes to all of those good people who have lost so much.
And whatever you do: stay the hell off the beach. Unless you really, really need a new colander.