As a coastal dweller, when a hurricane is headed toward the Gulf of Mexico my brain begins to split into several pieces. The biggest part of my brain doesn't want the hurricane to go towards my little piece of the gulf coast and fuck up my life for weeks or months or, possibly, years.
However, there's another part of my brain that feels bad when I realize that wishing the storm doesn't hit me equals wishing it will hit someone else. I justify my wishing the storm on others by knowing that they are also wishing the storm on me. Bastards.
Then, I also have a part of my brain that enjoys the anticipation of the small storms so I can miss a day or two of work and hang out with family and friends watching the wind and the rain. Of course, when the small storm turns into a big storm I feel guilty for having accidentally willed the big sunovabitch into existence.
I also have a mental double standard when it comes to weathermen. If the forecasted path of a hurricane is away from me, then I think the weatherman is a genius. However, if the path looks like it's headed straight toward my front door, then all weathermen are assholes and don't know what they're talking about. I believe in staying in denial as long as possible.
Hurricane? I don't see no stinkin' hurricane.