Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Just another day in Satan's nutsack.
I want my money back, you hear me?
Up until the last three or four years, one of the main reasons I choose to continue living in this delightfully passive-aggressive northern State of mine is that, other than a couple dozen "hot" days in the summer, the weather was great for a delicate flower like myself: Not too hot, plenty of gray days, perfect Falls, amazing Springs and typical Minnesota winters. You Southerners scoff at us, making fun of the cold and snow and not even having a clue what a "snotcicle" is, but for those of us who love this sort of climate as much as Hollywood loves cocaine, a crisp winter day with snow covering the ground can inspire tingly feelings in our crotchal region, such is our joy.
We haven't had a winter that isn't messed up in some way (unbelievably frigid one day, sunny and 45 degrees the next), Fall goes by so fast that if you stop to blink and blow your nose, you'll miss it. Spring is almost equally short these days, going from 20 degrees with snow on the ground one day to 60 degrees, sunny and confusing the plants the next.
Summer can kiss my ass.
It's ungodly hot day after day after day after day after day....and repeat.
The sun is always shining, it's always in the 80's and 90's, and it almost never, ever rains. My lawn looks like shredded wheat. I gave up trying to keep the flowers alive- they're on their own now, it's survival of the fittest at this point. I'm sweating from every inch- I'm pretty sure my pancreas was perspiring yesterday. The weather forecast causes me to say very unladylike things, and I'm seriously considering becoming a super-villan so that I can invent some sort of laser (I'm thinking of calling it the "Whiskey wand") that allows me total domination over the world's weather. I'd wear a cape and carry an "umbrella of doom."
But, then that meddling Batman would come after me, then all sorts of car chases and explosions would occur, then we'd meet in a final battle to the death in an abandoned office building...
well, you get the idea.
This isn't what I agreed to when I signed my "I'll live here" contract. I'm no lawyer, but I think I'm entitled to some sort of compensation for pain and suffering, as well as breach of contract.
Minnesota? Are you listening? I'm calling you out, beyotch. If you wanna do this old-school style then meet me at the railroad tracks for fisticuffs. Bring a switchblade and brass knuckles cause' this is going to end NOW. Just me and you. Mano y mano.
If not, If you're too much of a panty-waste, you can expect to hear from my lawyer, Lionel Hutz.
This ends now, you hear me? Give me back my old weather or prepare for the consequences, you lying hothead. Get a good doctor or a competent lawyer, assface, because I'm coming for YOU.