I’m in LA and safe and fine and everything. The road trip was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made (seriously), but I’ll get into that later.

What concerns me now is that I fly into NYC on Saturday night, arriving at 8pm. Coincidentally, there is supposed to be a major fucking snowstorm on Saturday night in NYC. And the flipping the fuck out begins…now.

The rest of my time here in LA, which has been wonderful so far, is now ruined by the threat of this storm. If it were any other time, I’d extend my stay by two days just to be safe and return after the storm had passed and the airport had been de-snowed. But alas, I have to go to work on Monday, for the first time in four months. Sweet.

There’s not really a point to this post. My original intention was to let you all know that I successfully made the 19 hour drive down the west coast and was safe and sound in LA. But then I checked Yahoo weather, made a couple of phone calls to friends back east, and have decided to put myself on a regiment of .25mg of Xanax every four hours from now until Monday morning. I knew I should have gone to medical school.

In sooth, I’m not concerned about dying in a plane crash. Well, I am concerned about that, because that would not be so awesome. But realistically, I’m more concerned about shitting myself on the plane. On the flight over to Seattle, we hit some major turbulence over the Rockies and I thought I was going to poop my pants. I don’t mean this in the metaphorical “I was very frightened” sense (although I was), but in the physical “feces will come out of my heinie and spill down my leg and all over my seat” sense.

And that was only a little turbulence. If on this flight to snowy NYC I’m looking out the window while we’re descending and I see snow whipping around the plane and the whole thing is shaking, well, I’m pretty much going to have to put a cork in my ass to prevent a hershey squirt. And I don’t think I’m going to be able to get the cork in there in time.

So I foresee a turbulent descent and landing and a poo accident on my part. Then there’ll be that weird moment when the lights come on the plane and everyone stands up to get their overhead luggage and it will stink like shit and everyone will be making weird faces and maybe some little kid will say, “Mommy, what smells like doo?” and I’ll be red-faced standing in a semi-crouched position, waiting for everyone else to get off the plane before me so that I can get to the bathroom (which my jacket wrapped around my waist) as secretly as possible. So yeah, I can’t wait for that.

I knew I should have just come back to NYC on Tuesday. Stupid fucking bad hangover decisions.