shit like this is why i am SO GLAD summer is fucking over. i nearly wept tears of joy as i pulled out my north face boots this morning. yes they make me look like a lesbian, which is why i always make sure to wear lip gloss when i have them on, but they are comfortable and warm so fuck you. i love winter and fall. the more sweaters and scarves i can drown myself in the better. i didn't take this picture, but i walked by these dirty fucking hippies at division fest dancing in a puddle of used tampons and canine diarrhea earlier this summer and thought "i hope you catch something incurable." then i saw this on everyone is famous and remembered how much i HATED these people, dancing WITH THEIR MOUTHS OPEN in a pool of urban toxic waste. and the band they were dancing to wasn't even that jamming. blarf. i hate summer 1 because it is HOT and 2 because everyone feels the need to do EVERYTHING outside. and while i hate the normal outside shit (barbecues and garden parties and the like), i really wish you would do everything else in the privacy of your goddamned home.take that domestic dispute inside. as entertaining as it might be in theory, NO ONE really has good fights. every time i feel lame for not having a boyfriend, i hear some ridiculous argument a bitch is having with hers and i think, "bullet DODGED." anyway, you really think bitches want to listen to you fighting about property taxes and grocery bills? the answer is NO. so why in the fuck are you having that conversation outside, disturbing everyone trying to sleep with a little summer breeze wafting over her skin? for every time i've heard a bitch throw her husband's clothes out of the window i've heard TEN fights about com ed and child support payments. and that shit is 100% boring, black people. because the white people around here handle their house business, you guessed it, IN THE HOUSE. it's only you tar babies that are out here snapping your fingers and popping your necks with a newport dangling from your lip and that pink silk head wrap you sleep in sitting lopsided on top of your weave and dollar store house shoes, yelling at jerome at seven-thirty in the morning because he's late picking up j'ac'qua'vi'on for summer school. and, maybe you didn't know this, but some of us DON'T HAVE TO GET UP YET. because our children didn't fail any classes last semester. zing.
take that laundry inside. you know what's fucking gross? looking at some bitch's dirty period britches flapping around in the breeze while hanging off the fire escape. bitch, buy a house if you want to hang your clothes outside. or go to the currency exchange and get a goddamned roll of quarters. you're not fooling anybody. we live in a dirty, disgusting city. there's no "clothesline fresh" in chicago. there's "holy shit, my panties smell like car exhaust," and i doubt that's what you were going for.
take that business meeting inside. it never fails, if i am walking around downtown in the middle of the day in the summertime, i walk through no fewer than 137 impromptu sidewalk business meetings. it never fails that i will have to shove my way through so many congregated business suits, white dudes in sun glasses circle jerking their blackberries. it's totally inexplicable to me, especially since those suits look so goddamned HOT. i hate standing outside in a t-shirt for more than two minutes, so i can't imagine that the men's wearhouse two for $199 suit you're wearing is really that breathable, sir. isn't there an air-conditioned office somewhere with your name on it? why not go THERE and teleconference this shit COMFORTABLY?
take those pajamas inside. i like being comfortable, too. but inside clothes belong INSIDE. if i see another teenage girl traipsing around outside in her underpants i'm going to SCREAM. and even if they aren't masquerading their pj bottoms as real shorts, they're walking around WEARING THE SHIT THEY SLEPT IN just because. don't get me wrong, i have been known to walk to the market around the corner in my sleeping clothes, but my sleeping clothes are REAL CLOTHES. i go to bed fully clothed, just in case a fire breaks out or some basehead kicks my window in again. so all i have to do is get up and put a bra on and i at least look sort of pulled together. take those pancake tits and holey boxers inside! and you can leave your hot rollers and do rags inside, too. thank horus that fall forces you to at least throw a jacket on over that raggedy shit. jesus christ.
take that racket inside. the best thing about winter is that people who listen to bad music insanely loudly are forced to do so with their windows closed. my neighborhood isn't nice enough, because all summer long the sound of raggedy shitmobiles cruising around my block blasting wakka flocka or whatever the fuck. actually, you don't really hear "music," you mostly hear the rattling of the doors and shit. if your car can't handle bass, TURN THAT SHIT DOWN.
take that raggedy barbecue grill with one leg propped up on a brick inside. smokehouses and rib joints smell good. dirty ass grills you set up in the alley behind our building do NOT. who in fuck's name wants to eat some shit you cooked next to a goddamned DUMPSTER? now matter how disgusting we normal people think that is, every summer weekend some asshole is standing in a wife beater, shorts, socks, and adidas shower shoes (YOU KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT), grilling pre-formed wal-mart "meat" patties in my alley "barbecuing." stop it, please. take that shit inside and put it in a frying pan. it smells like cat shit on fire, not like anything you'd ever want to ingest. it tickles my gag reflex. blarf.
take that cigarette inside. one of my favorite pastimes ever is watching smokers shivering and shuffling from foot to foot while trying to have a square in sub-zero temperatures. you jerks deserve it for dirtying up our summer air with your second-hand cancer. i hope you freeze to death. ahahahahahahaha.
take those motherfucking kids inside. because they are noisy and i hate them and i know you're trying to wear them out because they've been home getting on your nerves all day, but now they're getting on MY nerves. and i didn't give birth to them. you had a lot of sex or paid a lot of money to be inconvenienced by that screaming ball of energy, i didn't. so take that thing inside and plop it in front of the television, because it's too cold to play where other people (namely me) can hear it.
take that vagina inside. people who don't have domiciles to which they might take some willing young woman don't deserve to get laid. i'm tired of seeing people fucking in parks or next to the dumpster behind my building. have you no shame? plus, there's glass and rats down there! AND LEFTOVER CHARCOAL AND BARBECUE CRUMBS.
take that fiesta inside. oh yeah, mexiricans, this means YOU. i speak fluent spanish and every neighborhood i have lived in as an adult has a walgreens with bilingual signage, so i feel like an honorary member of la raza and i can talk shit. you dudes do EVERYTHING outside! and starting at six in the goddamned morning! do hispanic kids EVER have to go to bed? for cereal, when i lived in my old place on albion i would wake up to the sound of little spanish-speaking voices two hours after i went to bed listening to those SAME FUCKING VOICES. that, the polka music, and the ever-present smell of suavitel permeating the air would keep my windows shut and my blinds closed from april to november. ain't no snow in mexico, though, so as soon as it's 4 o'clock dark every night and the hawk comes out they disappear, only to surface on sunday mornings at the laundromat and the catholic church up the block.
take that picnic inside. white people love picnics. so much, in fact, that they'll stop anywhere to have one. why is that? you dudes really love eating outside. everywhere you look someone has turned a bus bench or statue or filthy curb into an outdoor goddamned cafe. you dudes just stop and bust out your wicker baskets ANYWHERE, hm? are you that thirsty for a tan? i can't even commit to going to a white person's house for dinner in the summer, unless we have specific plans to watch tv while we eat. because guaranteed i walk in and they say, "let's eat this out on the patio!" and by "patio" they mean "that little scrap of cement at the base of my back stairs that only holds one chair so have fun balancing your plate on your knees while you sit on the bottom step and good luck with the flies hovering around because we're right next to the trash." man, eff that. and i avoid restaurants with outdoor seating AT ALL COSTS, especially with my caucasian friends, because they ALWAYS vote for outside! i'd rather wait an hour for a table that won't get covered in pigeon shit, thankyouverymuch.
take that normal body inside. regular dudes should never walk around with their shirts off. that should be a life rule. i've seen more moobs and undefined arms this summer than i think i really deserve. what the fuck, dudes who don't work out? listen, i don't work out regularly, either. but I keep my clothes ON. could you do the rest of us the same courtesy? i mean, really, does it even help that much? i'd be so self-conscious about the sweat pooling between my titty meat that i'd burn even HOTTER with shame. thus negating the whole shirt off thing. fucking delusional assholes.
here's hoping my seasonal affective disorder doesn't set in until january. happy fall, y'all.
