Snap On Snap Off

I shouldn’t complain about the current weather, even though it snowed yesterday.

It’s not exactly frigid.  We call that stupid cold.  And it does get stupid cold here.  It can’t be cold as balls because balls are body temperature, or close to it.  So we reserve balls for hot, which it will get here.  And then the bikers will show up, riding by in their underwear because it’s so hot.

Be glad I couldn’t find a gif of almost naked bikers.  And WHY do they do that?

But it’s spring, and Easter has come and gone, and the birds are out there, bitching about how cold it is.  I wonder why all the little birds are here before any geese.  I can usually hear those demonic mother f*ckers from miles away.

Given my wacky middle-aged internal thermostat, I can’t decide whether I’m freezing or boiling.  Most of the time I’m boiling.  For the last few months anyways, and that’s saying something since our temps make things erect enough to snap off if you bump them the wrong way.


I guess it’s better than sweaty tits … ?  Pardon my French.  I’m just copying Dan’s potty mouth.  Bad boy.

A few weeks ago it was much colder, and I only had the thermostat set for 67 degrees.  Poor Kevin was practically shivering, and kept crawling in bed every chance he could to get warm.  And he was wearing a hoodie.  I feel bad for threatening him if he touched the thermostat.  But I was already down to bare minimum – shorts and a sleeveless.

But I digress.  I swear, Mother Nature takes delight in pissing us off.  Enough with the cold.  Bring on the warm!  And then I’ll be screaming at Kevin to put the air conditioners in the windows.


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