After my quivery “Not Without My Roses” post on Thursday, my friend Mitch, who is always sending me awesome links, send me this:

Lightning strikes three of the tallest buildings in Chicago at the same time! from Craig Shimala on Vimeo.

I don’t tend to watch videos on blogs because I always assume it they are hilarious pictures of cats playing the piano and frankly, I have SCADS of (insert term for computer memory) of my OWN fake cat Mr. Sprinkles and his wacky antics! He’s quite an accomplished fake piano player, don’t you know!

But this, well, Mitch doesn’t send me bullshit, so I watched it. You should to. It’s like 40 seconds, and it’s WICKED AWESOME. DO IT, I’ll wait here.

Apparently, The Daver did have reason to worry…IF I WERE AS TALL AS THE SEARS TOWER*.

(hint, I’m not, but I’d be WAY cooler if I were)

Or perhaps had he come outside to see this:

I know, can you believe it? How had I not shown you photographic proof before? How had it not ruined my camera? How had I not been sucked off to Kansas City to be welcomed by a swarm of very tiny people?

It’s almost like it hadn’t existed in nature before Photoshop was invented. (thank you Mrs. Soup for helping this bitch out).

While I was selfishly off pruning my roses, my daughter escaped from jail:

Then, proving that she learned what thug life means, she stole a cookie and ate it wearing her gold chains. Maybe SHE stole my pants!

And indeed, she never DOES say please. Or anything else, really.

(I do have to tell you more about that, but for now, know that I have read every single email, comment, Tweet and DM you have sent me, but I have been literally paralyzed by the gravity of the situation. I am sorry. I promise I am not being rude)

Then, my middle son decided to outdo us all and become half human-half arachnoid:

When he starts scaling buildings and fighting crime, I’ll totally claim it’s my awesome genetics.

And my last son, Benjamin, became a teenager at age 9. He is also for sale.

Actually, I may PAY you to take him for a couple of years. Attitude is included. All sales final.

And now that I have offered to sell my son (POOR TASTE, AUNT BECKY), I will advise you to pretty PLEASE vote for me (for funniest blog), which is ALSO in poor taste, I know. But what can you do? You may vote once per day.

If’n you are the voting type, you can also vote for me in the awards on my sidebar, which would be rad. Voting is good for karma, unlike stealing, which gives you herpes.

*No, I will NEVER, EVER call it the (Wesley) Willis Tower, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

71 Responses to Proof That God Hates Chicago

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