If your excessive traffic delays today are due to icy roads and snow instead of random drug searches and roads made from molasses that are just barely wide enough for two donkeys and an emaciated goat….you might be back from Costa Rica.
If instead of enjoying a made-to-order omelette and a mountain of bacon this morning, your breakfast involves just trying not to electrocute yourself sticking a fork in your toaster to retrieve your burning Eggo….you might be back from Costa Rica.
If the crunch you’re hearing this morning is the snow under foot and not a nice, blindfolded woman being forced to bite into a tarantula…you might be back from Costa Rica.
If your ill advised barefoot stroll results in your wife pushing you around for a week in a wheelchair because your feet have FROSTBITE and NOT second-degree burns from the sand…you might be back from Costa Rica.
If the only way you’re going to get a fez to wear this week is by mugging a drunken Shriner…you might be back from Costa Rica.
If the soothing lapping of ocean waves against the sandy shore has been replaced by the cracking of lake ice and the gentle sounds of the occasional pickup truck sinking to the bottom of Lake Winnebago…you might be back from Costa Rica.
If your nose is running uncontrollably from blowing snow this morning rather than eating a mysterious hot sauce so spicy it must be made from Satan’s ball sweat…you might be back from Costa Rica.
If you woke up this morning in a bedroom painted in muted colors and earth-tones and not one that is as purple as the head of a Minnesota Vikings fan’s boner…you’re defiantly back from Costa Rica.
(Thanks to Marc Evans for some of these!)
