The National Climactic Data Center reported that extreme weather caused $110 billion worth of damage to the United States last year, but they’ve yet to assess the cost associated with the Northwest’s recent Hurricane Nia. We should all brace ourselves for the worst.
Nia swept through Portland during this season of “Real World,” leaving much of it in ruins, and the hardest part of trying to escape her wrath was that no advisory system could detect when she was ready to strike. So that all those who cross Nia’s path in the future have a better shot at survival than did her housemates, we researched and identified the sure signs of her progression, using the Saffir-Simpson wind scale as reference. From Category 1 to Category 5, check out the hurricane’s trajectory below.
Category 1: No destruction expected, but remain inside and away from windows — Here, Hurricane Nia is mostly dormant, but a little drizzle, warm breeze and/or passive-aggressive joke may indicate danger to come. For example, if she tells you: “I have this ghost that steals clothes from me” because she can’t track down a missing sock, you should trust your instincts that something is a bit askew.
Category 2: Winds pick up, ominous clouds roll in — The sky looks a little bit darker than it did 10 minutes ago and you can probably detect a soft clap of thunder in the distance. At this point, Hurricane Nia’s intentions are becoming apparent — even to domestic animals used as pawns in her destructive plot — but we’re not quite dealing with the apocalypse, and there’s no reason to panic quite yet.
Category 3: Start reinforcing your doors; a heavy rain has begun to fall — The downpour will only worsen as the storm keeps rolling in. Nia has done away with ambiguity, and has made her feelings abundantly clear (like those she shared with Schmizza boss, Brett, after getting fired). Umbrellas are now defenseless against her scorn.
Category 4: Your safety is at risk! Mandatory evacuation is imminent — If, for whatever reason, you have decided against taking shelter, proceed to the middle of your house, and secure any errant objects and glassware. Now, Nia has abandoned all civility, and if you don’t head for the hills, she has made it explicitly clear what she’s got in store: cracking your motherf***ing head.
Category 5: Utter havoc. It’s time to clutch your rosary and pray — Nia has cracked your motherf***ing head.
Dig Remote Control? Follow us on Twitter, like, now.