And utter hatred (now that I've gone back and re-read what a hateful angry bitch I sound like ...)
This actually started out as a comment I was just about to leave at So ... What Else in reply to her blog about hating winter (go read her, she's very funny). I got way too carried away in that little comment box and decided it wasn't really my place to use such profanities on someone else's blog. In case you're wondering ... I am ok with most profanities. As a matter of fact, I don't know how I'd survive without being able to say Fuck when I need blow off some steam. How do some people not need to say that word? Must be nice to be so fucking happy.
Back to the snow. The goddam blasted snow whore. I fucking hate winter. I live dog-sledding distance to the North Pole where it usually snows from September to May. I hate letting my car run for ten minutes to thaw it out. I hate it more because I hate my car. I am lucky enough to have a garage. A garage that is on a slant and pools all the snow that falls off my car to the walls and make them mold. Good job dumb asses. But when I can't use my garage, like when I am work five days a week, my car sits on the street. Collecting inches of snow and freezing up like a popsicle, but worse because popsicles are nummy. In the winter, my evenings go something like this after work (because I am not Oprah rich and can not afford an indoor parking spot in my building):
-put on boots that have been drying under desk for 8 hours
-put on jacket & scarf
-put on gloves last because when I have to pull my hair out of my scarf, it gets static as shit if it's touched by the gloves
-shuffle down to the lobby doors like a big fat sumo wrestler sweating like a fucking pig because the building heat is turned way up
-step outside and almost get knocked over from the hurricane strength blizzard
-walk slowly and carefully because vision is compromised by scarves and eye lashes that have froze together
(at this point, I'm walking in either deep snow that may or may not be on the road, or on a slick sidewalk)
-huddle in a circle for 30 minutes at the bus stop with several other poor bastards who also are not Oprah rich, missing bus after bus after bus because more people seem to take the bus than drive in the snow. Idiots.
-try to keep my balance standing on the bus with 15 pounds of extra clothes on, on a slick floor, while sweating like a whore in church (like that? I've never used that phrase before but it fits here) again because of the 15 pounds of extra clothes.
-possibly get stuck trying to climb a small hill because buses are not snow buses in Calgary, although they should be, and most definitely get stuck behind some sort of incident on the road (cars that wont move on the ice rink we call our roads, etc)
-finally. reach. car.
-carefully, carefully open the door so the foot of snow on top doesn't fall onto the drivers seat. Most likely it will so I drop more fuck bombs at this point. loudly.
-reach over mound of snow on seat to start car, which sounds like a cat puking up a hairball because it's frozen fucking solid.
-CRANK THAT HEAT
-get snow brush. Yell Fuck again when footing is lost and I'm now UNDER the car.
-get up, use snow brush to wipe off
-brush car off. Never look directly AT the car when brushing because that big gust of wind will only come at that second
-fuck. fuck. fuck.
-shuffle around the car brushing for ... oohhh .... three minutes, get myself up from under the car two more times, then hop in
-make phone calls, have a cigarette, play some games on the phone, listen to music, watch the fucking chaos on the roads build.
-Finally, after 10 minutes, the car is warm enough to move.
-doesn't mean it WILL.
-reverse. drive. turn wheel. drive. reverse. reverse. fuck. fuck.
-once out of the nice snow hole dug by spinning tires, sit at traffic light for three cycles each because only 1-3 cars can get enough traction to move at intersections.
-there are about 15 sets of lights between where I leave my car and house. You do the math.
All the while, heat absolutely cranked to keep snow and ice from building on the windows even though I can't fucking breath and am wearing a big puffy winter coat, long-johns under my already too tight pants and a pair of winter boots. fabulous attire for sitting in a car for 90 minutes. And the fun doesn't end there people. Once I get home, I have to shovel my way out of my garage and to the house. And shovelling is not easy like they make it look like on TV. I pull muscles in my hands most people don't know they have shovelling. No lie, one year, I sprained my thumb shovelling. Stupid whore snow.
Miserable rotten bullshit fucking winter.