If you are expecting to read something profound, enlightening, or otherwise thought-provoking then I suggest you abandon all hope of it here and now. This entry is a long and possibly exaggerated rant about how much I hate living in a cold state of freezing coldness. Nothing in this post can seriously be taken as a joke, honestly it is really quite absurd.
I live in the northernmost region of the Midwest, USA. In my state we have a saying that we have four seasons: almost winter, winter, not yet over winter, and construction. Despite Al Gore's persistent nagging coupled with the popular trend to go green, it's actually been colder these past few summers and I've noticed. This past summer I could hardly tell what season it was considering that I barely sweat. I actually begged my dad on certain occasions to let me use a space heater in my room, in the middle of July. I fortunate to spend most of my summer touring the lesser known parts of neighboring states performing at summer camps.
I am the self-proclaimed "biggest wimp in the state [when it comes to the cold]." I think that over time my self-proclamation has turned to self-evident truth. I remember when my ex-girlfriend told me she wanted to live in Alaska I began to ask myself if God intended love to hurt that much. Apparently God didn't intend for love to hurt that much because I'm not with her anymore. Just so anyone who's real sensitive and wants to get all guilt trippy on me, I want you to know that I would have gone to Alaska and lived out the rest of my life there without one word of complaint if it had meant I was going to spend the rest of my life with that woman. She is a one in a million kind of woman, but not my one in a million woman, and that's all I have to say about that.
Now this issue I have with cold... I think that December would just not be December without snow. I can't imagine anything other than a white Christmas. However, the snow and cold doesn't come and go in December... No, it likes to come as early as October and sometimes doesn't leave until the first week of April. What kind of crap is this? This is madness! (You may now insert your most epic version of the infamous, "This is Sparta" line here.) Seriously though, I can't understand the logic of calling a period of time that spans for more than five months long a season, it's more like one very long nightmare. Most of my friends, admittedly they are female, have said that they wouldn't leave this frost bitten hunk of ice for much of anything. It's a running joke among what most would call my "family" that I will have to move down south to find my wife, but I'm thinking more along the lines of just marrying a volcano. That should be warm enough, right? I mean, volcanoes are women too, look, you start talking to them and all of sudden they just blow up in your face. You don't even know why they did, but they blew up at you and somehow it's all your fault.
Now that I have thoroughly insulted all the sensitive ones with my off the cuff remark about my ex-girlfriend and all the women with my comparison of them to volcanoes; my rant can thoroughly be concluded. I hate being cold. Besides the fact that I'm the only one who walks around in August with a black sweater simply because I need it to stay warm, my room is equipped with a space heater capable of heating my whole room in less than 20 minutes as well as an electric fitted sheet that can warm my bed in about 15 minutes. If that wasn't enough, I have enough winter weather clothing that I can't simply don't have room to keep both summer and winter clothing together. Fortunately, I usually layer the two and wear a lot of my winter weight stuff in the summer as well as the colder months. I guess I can be thankful that I was born into a middle-class family in America, because otherwise I'd be a miserable child with a bitter attitude and a most cynical yet intellectual outlook on life.
Until *brrr* next *sneeze* time *wraps self in blanket*,