That little asshole Punxsutawney Phil just predicted six more weeks of winter. My reaction to that?
I think it’s fair to say I cannot stand winter. Nothing about it pleases me. Not the cold, not the fresh, white snow (that soon turns dirty and brown and lingers for weeks on end), not the shorter days, not ANY OF IT. All I ever want to do is curl up in my blankets and hibernate. Good ol’ KC is in the midst of a (mini) snowpocalypse and I am on the verge of tears thinking about the prospect of six more weeks of this cold bullshit, but fear that the tears would freeze to my face keeps them at bay.
Y’all might think I’m exaggerating my disdain for winter just a bit, but I assure you I am not. To further prove how much I loathe this season, and the prospect of an extension of it, I’ve put together a little list of things I’d rather do than suffer through six more weeks of these freezing temperatures…
Share a tuna fish sandwich with a jort wearing, open-mouthed chewing chap.
Go one month without Yellowtail Moscato.
Have a nun magically appear and give me the side eye every time there is a sex scene in a movie I’m watching.
Watch every single episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.
Have all my socks suddenly be made of wool.
Never be allowed to eat peanut butter froyo again. Ever.
Spend 24 hours in a cave that reeks of curry.
Have all radio stations be set to play nothing but Norah Jones for one full year.
Have the last ten pages missing of the next ten books I read.
Never, ever, EVER get to see the final season of Sons of Anarchy. Okay, no, never mind. That clearly is pushing it too far. Unless, maybe that would earn me a life free of winters for the rest of my days… then sorry, Jax Teller, we are through!
Sigh. Six more dreadful, chilly weeks. How can a person be expected to make it through? Finding a way to make the cold and snow more sufferable isn’t easy, but there is a way… Put Charlie Hunnam in it with you and suddenly the snow starts looking a whoooole lot better.