OK - I know its only early March and I should not yet be complaining that winter is still around, but DAMMIT, winter is still around and I HAVE HAD. E. NOUGH.
Last night, driving home from the train station, my car said the temperature outside was 42 degrees. A few weeks ago, when it was snowicaning all over the damn place, I would've been siked for 42. I would've been like, "Hells yeah, spring is coming, spring is coming!" But last night? Not so much. I felt like telling 42 to go fuck itself. Assuming the car was telling the truth, 42 has completely changed its tune since a few weeks back. Or rather, I suppose I expected it to be kinder than it was. But it wasn't being nice. NO. It was being a little bitch actually. That is if it really WAS 42. It sure didn't seem like the 42 that a few weeks earlier I had wished for. Oh hell no. Last night, my sweet little 42 was more like that frigid bitch 32. And that was so uncool. But I didn't want to fault 42 so as I sat there shivering, I actually yelled at my car. Out loud. "Bull-shit it's 42. You fucking piece of shit liar." I know. I know. It's not nice to swear at my car, especially since its a Toyota and is likely to go postal on my ass, but comethefuckonalready. Winter seems so long at this point that I don't even recognize my beloved 42. And that, my friends, is reason enough to think your car capable of temperaturistic plots against you.
Needless to say, if winter doesn't end soon, I may very well have to check myself in somewhere. But at least then I'll be warm. They tend to keep temperatures up in places where people wander around in bathrobes.
No comments:
Post a Comment