I’m only happy when it rains. Real Happy. Like, roll in the mud and run around naked happy. The rain rules for many reasons.

The million tiny splashes of a million tiny raindrops goes a long way to forging out the chaos of the world. Traffic, construction, those god-forsaken birds that can’t keep their beaks shut…it all melts away in the glorious misty background of rain.

You get that same peace of mind that happens when you hold your breath and go underwater, but without the pressure or that weird greasy feeling in your ears.

Then there’s that pre-rain bizarre atmosphere. You get this atmospheric foreplay where you can’t help but look up and ask the guy next to you how bad they think its gonna be.

Rain is basically a matter of intuition. On some days, you look up and it’s just a mess of grey wispy clouds, teasing you and leaning quite heavily toward the “I’m not going to rain” side of things. You take note of the cool weather and the wind, and from there, you decide it’s not a big deal and you can just put on a coat and perhaps some fancy shoes.

Then there are good days. A good day is when you wake up with a tweeze in the back of your head making you think you just missed a bomb-blast. Just looking outside, the alarm bells in your head go off, but at the same time, you get that almost giddy “Kansas” sense that today is going to be very good for the crops. A good sign is that weird green hue that might mean a tornado. That rules.

There is one downside. When the water starts to fall, it’s like a vertical tsunami pounding down with enough force to strip makeup or a light tank tops with ease.

Seriously, being outside, walking across the quad, and having that first, big fat raindrop hit you in the head sucks more than anything. You know, deep in the most primal recess of your brain, that you’ve got about nine seconds before all manner of liquidy hell comes bearing down like a freight train.

Lightning rules. Lightning and I go way back. We’ve got a love-hate relationship. On one hand, back when I was six, and I was out playing tag with my buddies, lightning showed up like some enormous fat kid with an abusive father and just ruined the fun for everybody. But I looked that big, fat, loser kid right in his bruised black eye and saw good, so I kept at it and after 12 years I got my deliverance. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am about to discus Texas at its finest: Two-a-Days on the High School Football team.

Nothing sucks more than getting to practice and seeing your coach angry. It’s like waking up in prison the day after an escape attempt.

It’s 4:30, you’ve had like half a banana for breakfast, and you look right into your lord and master’s eyes and see boiling water. Gassers, bear crawls, crabwalking, burpies, the list goes on. Each one an adventure into mouth-guard spitting, vomit inducing fatigue. Well guess what folks, someone cut off the principal yesterday, and it’s time to do punishment drills.

This is when one of the black guys cracks a joke and there’s that nervous, “I hope the firing squad smiles first” laughter from everyone in close proximity. Then a freshman says something loud enough for coach to hear and guess what, whatever you were gonna do just doubled.

So you hit the field. Before you even warm up and get your usual grass-clipping aromatherapy and wet gym shorts, because for some reason the field turns into a lake every morning, you get on the line.

Nothing good every comes after this. We’re all walking out of the locker room, and we know we’re gonna die. So we walk outside, and look at the 100-yard killing field and then, like the golden chariot of God himself, thunder rolls across the sky.

Coach just got the carpet yanked out from under him.

He can make you run in the gym, he can put you on that rubber floor and have you sprint and do jumping jacks until noon…but guess what, it’s inside.

And that changes things.

Listening to thunder is like looking at the cars outside of a strip club, with lightning dancers and a rainy musical accompaniment inside.

Sometimes you get pick-up truckcow fart thunder, sometimes you get a deep gutteral Hummer H2(with spinners) war drum, and other times there’s that ear splitting Ferrari crack that sends cats and dogs to the laundry basket.

Either way, sometimes it’s so good you just stand outside, giddy and completely drenched just to see the lightning come down.

But rain has a peaceful side. Sometimes, when you are lucky, you get a light shower. It’s so light you could throw a Frisbee, and sometimes, when you are really lucky, the sun sneaks a few bolts through the sky or the birds stay out and sing.

Right now it’s dark.

It’s almost 10, which on a Thursday means I still have a few hours before my work week officially ends.

Then I can go out on the porch and reverse tan because I’m too lazy to shower. I’ll probably roll inside and dry myself off on the carpet because I’ve only got three months left on the lease, and thanks to good friends and bad decisions we aren’t getting the deposit back anyway.

Then we get the best part of rain, falling into bed with the windows open and letting the rain carry you off to sleep like a little toy boat drifting in the Ocean. Or just a quaalude, whatever.

That is my Fact, that is the Truth as I see it.