Mom's none too pleased with the snow.

Mom:Here's the game plan -- once we get one car free, we take off.
Mom:We're going to a hotel. Preferably one with a covered garage and indoor pool.
Mom:Every man for himself.
Mom:I guess my plan of dying in my sleep didn't work. God damnit!
Mom:I said 'take me' not 'wake me.'
Mom:Fourteen inches, my balls.
Mom:Well, at least they got one thing right -- it stopped at 4.
Mom:'Oh, we might've been wrong about how much. That pile looks a liiiiittle high.'
Mom:See, Nik -- when you're bad at math, you become a meteorologist.