Monday, December 27, 2010

it's winter, assholes.

hooray for ugly season. THANK HORUS. winter is when i really shine, lovers. i'm as happy as a kitten with a brand new shoe it shouldn't be chewing on. 'tis the season to dress like a fucking bag lady and not catch any shit for it, when my fourteen layers and insulated boots are an asset rather than the distracting attire of someone mentally infirm. do you ever do that shit? stare at someone's clothes trying to figure out whether or not he is batshit crazy? god, that is my NUMERO UNO train activity. and the more clothes = the more CRAZY. except when the temperature plunges below zero, when wearing four sweatshirts, a flannel robe, fleece pants, two pairs of jeans, nine hats, fur gloves, heated socks, and a full-body snow suit makes you look like the smartest person who ever lived.

i love winter. i love cold weather and sweaters and thick socks. i love not having to look at overexposed regular human bodies on the bus. i love football season segueing into basketball season. hot food is better than cold food. no one makes you feel guilty for spending an entire week shrouded in blankets while watching television and drinking wild turkey in bed when you could "be doing something outside." and i understand why some people don't like it, but you pussies should move to fucking florida and leave those of us who can drive a RWD manual transmission with bald tires uphill in whiteout blizzard conditions to our own devices. i'm on a lot of ridiculous mailing lists, and i got an email the other day entitled: winter skin survival tips. it was full of handy suggestions like "don't forget sunscreen!" and "switch to a heavier, more emollient face cream!" not intended for black women, i assume, as "slather your entire face in a thick layer of cocoa butter" somehow missed the list, but helpful nonethless. but they missed a few things. so i'm here to help.


your hoodie is not a coat. oh, i know. it's totally warm. and stylish, too. it even comes equipped with drawstrings! but this is chicago, and that little piece of shit is not appropriate. i don't care if people keel over from hypothermia because they're too hard-headed to dress in a manner that will keep them alive. i really don't. but i am irritated when they pretend what they're wearing is suitable winter attire. it is not possible that you are warm, and because you're such a moron i am forced to stare at you and your chattering teeth, obsessed with how cold you might be. and really, if you are wearing a scarf AND mittens with that hoodie, STOP THAT SHIT. you know it's cold. go put your big ugly puffy winter coat on like the rest of us.

i know you have amazing legs, and you're only running from the gym to your car (and the grocery store, dry cleaners, hair salon, starbucks, the post office, the florist, the apple store, back to the grocery store for that one thing you forgot, and the bank) but you should really put some fucking pants on. it's fucking cold, you asshole, and would the thirty seconds it takes to slip some sweatpants on over them daisy dukes really throw off your schedule that fucking much? QUIT PLAYING. i hope you get locked out of your car or house and freeze to death.


we're totally laughing at those high-heeled boots you insist on tiptoeing around in. big clompy snow boots aren't fashionable. (and the SUPER expensive ones i bought last year are totally giving my calves leather burn, BLARF.) but they keep you from falling down. and "not falling down" is high on my list of shit that makes me goddamned happy. i like traction. and balance. and my feet serve their purposes the best when they are not frozen into giant blocks of ice. i have these fucking atrocious north face boots that are all disgusting and white with salt residue, but they feel like i am wearing a christmas stocking inside of an ice-crushing machine, so i fucking wear them. because slipping in snow is humiliating, and IMPOSSIBLE to do gracefully.

i know that "it's cold out there!" you know, because my spaceship didn't just drop me into this heated building. i've been outside today. so stop saying that dumb shit. you can also kill yourself rather than tell me to "stay warm!" do you think that ISN'T my primary objective? the windchill is NINE FUCKING DEGREES, asshole. warm is how i'm trying to STAY. that's like telling a bitch "keep breathing!" or "right foot then left!" i'm a motherfucking adult, and i grew up in this climate. I GOT IT. my response is always a cheerful, "well, i hope you fucking die of hypothermia." ooh, burn.

shovel your fucking sidewalk you JERK. that nice house you just bought came with a sidewalk, and clearing that sidewalk is your responsibility. a few years ago mel and i got into a MAJOR fight because on my way into the studio to do some work for him i WIPED THE FUCK OUT on the walkway that he refuses to salt or shovel. EVER. fuck me, fuck the mailman, and fuck anyone else trying to service his business; he used the BACK DOOR, why shovel the FRONT? same thing at work now. the boss man drives a 4wd soccer dad car and uses the parking spot right by the door, why waste money on a snow plow? forget that two winters ago i slipped and fell UNDER COREY'S CAR and lori spent eight weeks in physical therapy after some stupid dog she was walking on a sheet of ice pulled her down and dislocated her shoulder, HE doesn't have to stand out there trying to clean catch dog urine in a snow drift, so why should HE care? you can always tell which neighbor all the other neighbors collectively HATE during snow season, because there is always one unshoveled walk smack in the middle of a snowblowed neighborhood. and what do you do the second you see that shit? you think, "that dude's an ASSHOLE," and glare at his house while you step defiantly into the street to avoid the slick and bumpy piles of tread-upon snow. and it's always the dude with the shittiest house, the one least likely to have homeowner's insurance decent enough to pay for the broken arm you incurred trying to remain upright on the snow that has melted and re-frozen five times on his stupid property. at the very least, could you throw a little salt on that shit? damn!

the fact that you almost ate it seven times in front of that SUV notwithstanding, it might be time for your dumb ass to put that motherfucking bike in storage. i am going to make a few enemies i bet, but dudes on bicycles are assholes. they piss me off as both a motorist and a pedestrian, and winter is the fucking WORST. every time i see cars sliding across the road there's always some fool on a bike sliding right along with them, and i always think, "you deserve to die." i wouldn't parachute into afghanistan without a machine gun and a working knowledge of how to make a bomb out of dust and the ink from a ball point pen (or whatever it is those motherfuckers are using to blow our asses up), so why would i play fast and loose on a rickety piece of metal and rubber in a fucking blizzard? come on, now. we all know you are all man, a virile piece of meat with a huge cock. you've proven it. now go put that little shit away. and take off those shiny sateen stretch pants while you're at it.

i never let winter get in the way of my partying either, and maybe no one has ever told you this, but being fully clothed at the club is not illegal. i don't want to see the icicles hanging off your labia, sister. get dressed already. and there's nothing worse than some ridiculous bitch thinking she should be able to jump me in line or steal my fucking cab because i wore jeans and she wore duct tape. put your pussy away if you're so goddamned cold. otherwise, enjoy your frigid, teeth-chattering, sub-zero time.

could you buy some chapstick, please? and carry some goddamned pocket kleenex. nothing makes you want to throat punch an adult more than looking at their dry ass lips, and november through march is throat punching SEASON. good lord, dude. how cheap is carmex? and my nose is running, too, but i have tissue in my bag for that. nothing more repulsive than a stream of eye snot and nose tears running over the crusty, dehydrated lips of someone trying to have a conversation with you. what are you, four years old? go wipe your fucking face! sorry brother, but i just can't with that. run a fucking humidifier at night if your shit is that bad. bathe in vaseline. WHATEVER. just moisturize. PLEASE. and this probably goes without saying, but there is ABSOLUTELY NO EXCUSE for an ashy black person. none. if you can't afford baby oil and vaseline or whatever it is we are supposed to use to grease ourselves up like chickens out of the fryer, call me or something. i'll send you some. just stop embarrassing your mother all out in the street with grey lips and eye water dried in streaks down your face. that shit is gross.

happy winter wonderland, lovers. now go put some fucking outerwear on.