You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Old Man Winter.
Geriatric puke face.
Just the thought pisses me off.
Grey and windy and wet.
Get off my lawn you miserable miscreant kids.
Old Man Winter.
Kiss my ass. Take a hike. Go to hell.
We don’t want your kind here.
Yeah I said it. Old Man Winter is the unwanted guest who comes unexpectedly and stays too long.
And when the weather man says “This is going to be the nicest day you’ll see for the next 2 months.”
OMG.
That’s like an ice pick to your brain.
That’s like an emotional jail break.
One day left, he says. Better enjoy it.
I take his advice. I sit outside in the backyard.
I look at the ball of light in the sky. It looks normal, but….
It’s 57 degrees and warm, well sort of.
The leaves in my tree are orange and yellow. The grass stopped growing 3 weeks ago. I saw my breath the other night.
I hate seeing my own breath. Old man winter has bad breath like rotten cabbage wrapped in seaweed.
Sitting in my back yard, there’s a breeze from the north. I find myself wincing a little. No, I find myself wincing a lot.
This is the best day we can expect for the rest of the year? The weather man actually just said that.
F*** You weather geek.
I’m angry.
I see the sun and it should be warm. Instead there’s a wind chill somewhere between Dick Cheney’s heart and Sarah Silverman’s Wit.
This is the nicest day for the rest of the year?
Is this clown joking.
Maybe. But it’s not funny.
It makes me think that I need to get tough. Not Manhattan beach, do my loafers match my skinny jeans tough. I’m talking maple syrup in my testicles tough.
I’m talking Viking ass, row the boat through a Swedish fjord tough.
I’m talking New York sidewalk goo “you talkin to me” tough.
Are you ready for Winter? No.
Winter doesn’t care it’s here.
It’s Black Friday and bad Egg Nog mixed with drunk uncle.
Hey you on the East Coast, grab a coat.
Hey Midwesterner, don’t forget a hat.
The reality is the Earth keeps spinning around the sun and right now it’s on a crappy low angle axis where light is fleeting.
You see those Canadian Geese forming a V in the sky.
They’re heading the F out of Dodge.
Go Geese Go.
I know you Californians and Floridians don’t give a rat’s ass.
Well you can have your nice weather. You got Earthquakes and refugees.
Everybody’s got something.
I called my dad the other day in California.
“How’s the weather?”
“Beautiful,” He says, the sound of bubbles churning over the phone.
“You in the hot tub?”
“Yep.”
“Over looking the Pacific?”
“Yep.”
“It’s probably 70 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, and it’s only 9:30 am”
I am jealous as I hear his wind chimes sing a melodic song in the background.
You can have the changing of the seasons.
I’ll take one long hum drum 70 degree california dreaming kind of day.
Give me a sparkling wave and white sand on Redondo Beach.
I’ll wear a sweater and shiver when it’s 62 degrees.
Brrrr.
So it’s 57 degrees as I sit here. The sun is out. The sky is blue and the air is relatively warm, for Mid November.
But when a cloud passes between me and my sun and the wind belches a gust of cold, I shudder.
Last best day of the year, my ass.
So I sit outside and let the sun bake my pasty white face.
I know this is the beginning of the end.
I know that a week from now I will have frostbite.
I hear the weather man speak his devil speak.
“Enjoy the day. This may be the best day you have till Christmas.”
I think about those words. Someone needs to wrap him in tin foil and microwave him on high.
His words are hateful, prescient.
It’s the weather version of do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars go directly to jail.
If you like snowmobiling and snow skiing and luging, then good for you.
But if you hate the cold, if you hate your nipples getting hard for no damn good reason, then this time of year sucks.
Some call it seasonal affective disorder.
That’s too kind.
Call it what it is. “I hate the F*(&ing Cold complex.
Tomorrow will be the official worst day of the year. The beginning of the end. The day that the cold and flu season tosses his hangman’s noose over a cloud and chokes the life out of all of us.
Embrace the cold. Go inside. Move.
Old Man Winter is here and he’s telling you to get off his damn lawn.
Life’s Crazy™