Whether the Weather is Bad. . .
Okay, I love winter. I mean I looooooooooooove winter. I love everything about it, the cold, the cold, and the cold. However, that evil bitch, mother nature fucked winter up for me this year. All throughout December and all of January we had 60-75 degree days. NOT THE WEATHER I WANTED. So, I called her up and we had a conference call with both of our attorneys present and taped it for quality assurance (I've got the tape still, I'll make you a copy if you want). She made some concessions, I made some concessions and, in the end, I think we both left relatively happy.
She promised me that I could have weather that rivaled that of San Diego everyday of the winter as long as I stopped poking and prodding the voodoo doll I made of her (I also still have that, you can borrow it if she pisses you of sometime). So, I was promised perfect weather until March 20th, the first day of Spring. Everything was going swimmingly until HE showed up. HE is the thing I hate most in the world. HE has been the bane of my existence before and this year HE reared his ugly head again.
HE, if you haven't guessed yet is Punxsutawney Phil. I had my perfect weather and mother nature had kept up her end of the bargain until that fateful day last week. I turned on the news that morning and caught the replay of the sight. Several men dressed in tuxedos that looked like they stole them from the traveling show of Oliver Twist stood on a makeshift stage while several hundred morons who actually went to the small hamlet in Pennsylvania and braved the biting cold cheered. Then, the mayor made his initial address and they pulled the overgrown gerbil out of his "cage."
Let's take a short break here and talk about the guy who grabs that disease infested rat of a weatherman. This is the bravest man in the world. At any point in time on that day every year he puts his life in danger. He holds the thing up in the air mimicking Rafiki introducing Simba to the kingdom and then brings him ENTIRELY too close to his face. Imagine that guy's embarrassment when the hedgehog with an ego problem attacks some year and he becomes the only American to ever be killed by a groundhog. I say the only American because if you follow the Canadian news, that stuff happens to our neighbors to the north all the time.
So, anyway, they pull the fur-ball out of his cage and listen to what he has to say in the ancient language of the groundhog. Which poses yet another flaw in the myth. Why couldn't I take Groundhogeese as my foreign language credit in college? Believe me, I asked and was literally scoffed at. Have you ever been scoffed at? It's not a pleasant experience. This is at an institution where you can take Sanskrit. Sanskrit! They offer that and Latin, but I can't take Groundhog? This is because it's not even a real language. The ministers of the most pointless holiday in the history of the world are liars. Liars on the grand scale of Fox News, when's Al Franken going to write a book about them?
They listen to what the ugly cousin to the beaver has to say and then they make the proclamation, six more weeks of winter. I hear this, yet I am not worried. I have made a pact with mother nature, she won't let me down.
She did. The bitch bowed down to that terd of a rodent and it got cold. From December all the way through February 1st it was beautiful outside. And now? Highs in the lower 50's, lows in the upper 20's, and now I have to put up all the T-shirts and shorts that mother nature told me to drag out of the back of the closet.
She promised me that I could have weather that rivaled that of San Diego everyday of the winter as long as I stopped poking and prodding the voodoo doll I made of her (I also still have that, you can borrow it if she pisses you of sometime). So, I was promised perfect weather until March 20th, the first day of Spring. Everything was going swimmingly until HE showed up. HE is the thing I hate most in the world. HE has been the bane of my existence before and this year HE reared his ugly head again.
HE, if you haven't guessed yet is Punxsutawney Phil. I had my perfect weather and mother nature had kept up her end of the bargain until that fateful day last week. I turned on the news that morning and caught the replay of the sight. Several men dressed in tuxedos that looked like they stole them from the traveling show of Oliver Twist stood on a makeshift stage while several hundred morons who actually went to the small hamlet in Pennsylvania and braved the biting cold cheered. Then, the mayor made his initial address and they pulled the overgrown gerbil out of his "cage."
Let's take a short break here and talk about the guy who grabs that disease infested rat of a weatherman. This is the bravest man in the world. At any point in time on that day every year he puts his life in danger. He holds the thing up in the air mimicking Rafiki introducing Simba to the kingdom and then brings him ENTIRELY too close to his face. Imagine that guy's embarrassment when the hedgehog with an ego problem attacks some year and he becomes the only American to ever be killed by a groundhog. I say the only American because if you follow the Canadian news, that stuff happens to our neighbors to the north all the time.
So, anyway, they pull the fur-ball out of his cage and listen to what he has to say in the ancient language of the groundhog. Which poses yet another flaw in the myth. Why couldn't I take Groundhogeese as my foreign language credit in college? Believe me, I asked and was literally scoffed at. Have you ever been scoffed at? It's not a pleasant experience. This is at an institution where you can take Sanskrit. Sanskrit! They offer that and Latin, but I can't take Groundhog? This is because it's not even a real language. The ministers of the most pointless holiday in the history of the world are liars. Liars on the grand scale of Fox News, when's Al Franken going to write a book about them?
They listen to what the ugly cousin to the beaver has to say and then they make the proclamation, six more weeks of winter. I hear this, yet I am not worried. I have made a pact with mother nature, she won't let me down.
She did. The bitch bowed down to that terd of a rodent and it got cold. From December all the way through February 1st it was beautiful outside. And now? Highs in the lower 50's, lows in the upper 20's, and now I have to put up all the T-shirts and shorts that mother nature told me to drag out of the back of the closet.
posted by the count at
8:17 AM
1 Comments:
Maybe if we all hold hands and sing "here comes the sun" ... and clap our hands loud enough for Tinkerbell... maybe spring will come early!
(and not bring the pollen and mold that makes me sneeze for eight trillion years -- actually, I'm still sneezing from last spring, just supressing it well)
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genderist, at 11:53 PM
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