All my people are safe. They "hunkered down" (CNN's new favorite southern phrase) and rode out the storm at my dad's house. He had obtained a generator and 15 gallons of gas before Rita came through. They played PS2 and pumped water out of the pool to flush the toilets.
Others were not so lucky.
I'll know more when I go back this week. There is a shit ton of work to be done.
The roof of my grandmothers house was ripped off. Surprisingly, most of her antique dishes and furniture was unharmed.
Strangely, the Bible she left on her coffee table was opened to a page proclaiming "Christ is Coming".
The electrical pole at my mom's house is gone.
My stepdad's friend lost his house. He lived on the creek so it was kind of expected.
Trees everywhere. Obliteration.
The Dairy Queen, Sonic, and Brookshire Bros. (grocery) in Kountze were all badly damaged. This will greatly affect the economy of my hometown.
I got all of this info second hand from phone calls between my dad, mom, aunt, and grandparents.
The wedding was Friday night. It went off without a hitch. Well, the parts I remember went off without a hitch.
Apparently, sometime after my 10th beer and 3rd Makers Mark there was some drama.
Apparently, I started doing cannonballs onto the airmattresses, which pissed off the bride's uncle.
Apparently, I called the bride's uncle a flamer, which is amazing since he's about twice my size. [But he really is a flamer.]
Apparently, I used the video camera to tape my friend's girl's boobs for a solid minute. Almost saw a nipple.
Apparently, I proclaimed myself to be an honorary member and "the Ambassador of this family."
It's good to have friends.
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