Planet Hoth

So, yeah. Washington D.C. is officially Planet Hoth. For those of you who don't know, shame on you! That's right, I'm not going to tell you what it is because you should know! And now to plagiarize myself: As I was walking home in eight inches of snow, the blizzard still going strong, I discovered a brief patch of sidewalk virtually denuded of snow. And as I was blithely striding down this road more traveled I thought to myself: "Shi-, maybe I should buy a snowblower." And that my friends is home ownership.

I'm not big on shoveling snow. In fact, I hate it. I've only done it once, but I'm blaming it for all the ills in my life. Why the heck were people out shoveling at ten P.M.? Do they enjoy an honest evenings work? Or, and I suspect this is the truth of the matter, do they just want to make the rest of us feel inferior. I hate that little squirrel. Stop running around in my attic!! Aside complete. Sorry about that. Women in their sixties are out moving snow off their steps with a patient look on their face, and I'm thinking, "Listen grandma, put down the damn shovel and go make a quilt or something cuz it's going to keep snowing for like another twenty four hours. We have no hope. The snowpocalypse is upon us!"

Listen, I'm not lazy. I just don't have a good work ethic. I believe that the sun should start carrying more of the burden. It's not enough for it to just sit there blithely, while I get buried in snow. Believe you me, when I catch sight of the sun, I'm going to give it a stern talking to. And why do we have to shovel sidewalks anyway? Can't the kids have fun sledding on the sidewalks? If we clear all the snow away, we're stealing children's fun. Do you like to shovel snow? Well then, you hate children having fun. Sorry. That's just a fact. I don't make the rules. Oh wait, I do.

I can't wait until tomorrow when everyone checks my facebook to see all of the neat snow pictures that I'm going to take of our house. And you'll all be amazed at the drifts beneath the eaves, and the sagging branches of all the trees. Oh wait. You won't. Because I don't take pictures of shi- like that. I go out and shovel snow because the D.C. government says I have to. Children hating bastards. Shut up you stupid squirrel. I hope it's not a possum. Aside complete.

So don't expect me to post any pictures of the snow, or even talk about things snow related. (This whole post totally undercuts the above statement. What a jack ass). I'm going to post pictures of me when we lived in CA, when I was young and handsome and waiting for the world to start throwing me surprise parties because of how rich and successful and happy I was going to be.

I hope it snows thirty inches. I hope it buries this whole damn city. Oh wait. Why the hell do people buy water in the grocery store before a storm? Do people not have Brita filters? Are they afraid the pipes are going to freeze and we're going to lose essential services for months? Guess what. We live in Washington, D.C., and you're shopping at Whole Foods. It's going to be all right. F-ing squirrel.

Okay. I've spewed enough vitriol for one evening. Now I'm going to go to sleep and dream pleasant things, like me chasing squirrels with a giant snowblower down a street covered in two feet of snow.
Good night and good luck.