Connecticut should be called the Ire State. Screw the nutmeg. People can't even read an article about a snowstorm without getting pissed off.
I logged on to wtnh.com to find out how much snow we're getting and burst out laughing at the comments.
You can practically hear the handguns being loaded.
One of the commenters does have a point: Does six inches of snow really warrant live team coverage? We live in New England. White shit is supposed to fall from the sky from time to time. Then again, if the news team is out meticulously measuring snow with their Livebreaking Storm Team Tracker Gadgets, doesn't that mean it's a really slow news day?
And isn't that a good thing?
So come on, you Connecticut assholes. Go outside and make a boobalicious snowman. Pour some more Baileys into your hot chocolate. Grab your toboggan and sled down a landfill.
By the time night falls, the news team will be back covering the things to which you've grown so accustomed: Quik-E mart robberies, home fires, state employees stealing from the Food Stamp program, the piss-poor economy, the high price of gas, and cuts in our healthcare benefits.
Now who wants some nutmeg?
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.