Snow Fuck Yourself

One of the things I try to do when writing, and living, is to remain rational when I’m livid. If I’m going on an extended rant, I aim to back it up with evidence and reasons for my discontent. This is not to say that I’m zen by any account – on the contrary, every time I leave the house I seem to have another altercation – but at least that I’m working towards it. I never want to be one of those people who go out to eat and screams, “WHERE IS MY SIDE OF BRUSSELS SPROUTS?! I ORDERED A SIDE OF BRUSSELS SPROUTS YOU PEOPLE DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO YOUR JOB!” and you’re like, “chill, cretin, it’s on your left.” (This happened on Saturday, by the way.) While I’m not going to say that I usually post about things that are in my control, I think I choose topics that are in at least someone’s control (MTA, I’m looking’ at you).


So when the penultimate snow fell, I logged on to Facebook (oh, who am I kidding – the thing’s been open all day, every day since December) and was inundated with pictures of the snow with hashtags like #fuckthis, #enough, #whenisspring, #snowmore, #snowgood, #summercomenow, and #iwannadie, I was annoyed. We go through the same thing every year, I thought to myself; how quickly people forget. This is fucking New York, a state which has always had, since I can remember, cold, snowy winters. And once it gets to be July, we’re going to have blazingly hot, humid summers and thus status updates about sweat. We have asshole weather here. Why do you think old people move to Florida? Have you ever thrown an ice cube in hot water? CRACK. That’s what happens in New York to old bones. And that’s a drug I’m about to start doing if it doesn’t get fucking warmer pretty fucking soon.

Because when I left work on Sunday and almost busted my ass SEVEN times walking on six MORE inches of STUPID snow in Uggs to Chambers Street, I was instantly converted. As with all religions, my thought processes were wholly illogical, but I had a desire to take to the web and scream about the snow. Hashtag DIE. Hashtag MISERY. This is bullshit. This is fucking ridiculous. It’s unnecessary, it’s annoying, it’s ugly and I hate it. I’m sick of wearing my entire wardrobe at the same time. I’m sick of leaving my apartment early because it takes me triple the time to walk to the subway since the sidewalks are icy as fuck. I’m sick of dealing with a populous who’s also sick of everything and is thus in a shitty mood.

And has anyone else noticed that we’re all suddenly weather people? I called my BFF yesterday to discuss this horrible state of affairs. “We’re going to have a significant amount of accumulation on Thursday,” she said. I hear people in the subway discussing wind patterns and Folks, even the fucking actual meteorologists don’t seem to know much of anything, so there’s no way having an app gives you any right to make these egregious claims.

And fucking! This is the worst website in the world. Worse than (#don’tjudgeme). It gives you absolutely no comprehensible information. That link will let you know they the moon is waxing gibbous, whatever that means, that the wind is blowing southwest, and that it’s going to be seven and a half degrees – which is not a fucking temperature but an age, or a nice-sized penis – but it doesn’t tell you what you really want to know, which is: “How fucking cold will it feel, and is it going to snow a lot?” Inches and times and numbers mean absolutely nothing. I want a weather report that says: “Wear leggings, heavy jeans, two scarves, and a plastic bag over your head to keep your skin from bleeding, and plan three hours of travel time because the rails of the one train are going to get too icy at Dyckman and you’ll have to reroute to the A, which will be running on the B line with delays.”

We’re supposedly getting another hit on Thursday, a.k.a. the day before Valentine’s Day, which is the only day of the year I stand to make any sort of substantial amount of money. I’m praying for over $200 (oh, how the mighty have fallen!).  This might put me over the edge. And then what? Another one the week after, and the week after, and the week after until we all just die? Is this some sick government plot at population control? Is Sochi behind everything?

I’m at the end of my rope here. snow-you-can-fuck-off-nowAt this point, I don’t give a fuck that I’m three months away from finishing my Master’s. I’m thinking Hashtag Mexico. Hashtag One Way. Hashtag Snow Fuck Yourself.


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