7 things i hate about you, winter

no, this isn’t a rant about Miley Cyrus: i think she’s suffered enough.

this is my entirely original tirade against the arch-enemy of happy times, winter.

fuck you, winter!

“pourquoi?” you ask?

1. excess pudge.

i guess i can’t really chalk this up to THIS winter, but all winters, and all months… and THE WINTER OF MY LIFE.

i know it is a faux pas to talk openly about this, especially when i don’t really have anything to worry about, but i have indluged in so many tasty treats in this last year, that i have put on 5kgs since last weighed by my doctor, prompting her to get me tested for a thyroid problem. thanks pain au chocolat, thanks unsinkable appetite for lard, thanks constant desire for carb-on-carb action, thanks meatballs, thanks ricotta cheesecake, thanks you’ll love coles belgian mint chocolate . THANKS FOR NOTHING.

2. fruit not in season.

watermelon. grapes. quince. cherries. mangoes.

bananas, apparently?

3. friends high-tailing it outta here.

there has been a mass exodus out of sydney/australia of late, to warmer climes. what they don’t know is that THEIR WINTER WILL COME. and it will be FAR WORSE than the winter we are currently suffering. Oh, those european-dwelling thundercunts don’t know what’s coming to them!

4. chillblains.

WTF? people being decapited, whales being slaughtered, chillblains? are we in the dark ages? time is cyclical, but can’t we be a bit more inventive with our ailments? not to be confused with frostbite and trench foot (because i know you’re constantly thinking about trench foot), chillblains are ulcers caused by an individual leaping from cold to hot and back again. i don’t have chillblains – eww, gross, did you srsly think i was talking about myself?

5. not being able to dress like a slut.

dammit, i want to be scantily clad! i want to strut around in threadbare duds, letting my gorgeous tanned bod be raped by the eyes of all. winter, you are getting in the way of me being a rampant slut! obviously, there are ways around this predicament:

6. oil heaters.

witness:

the perps:

7.it’s fucking cold!

constantly. no respite. seriously.

all that said, i will miss:

1. a legitimate excuse to dress like a massive dag.
2. the moment a good hot chocolate touches my tongue.
3. the smell of burning rubber under my desk, as my feet get intimate with my heater.
4. being able to walk to work and not die from heat exhaustion.
5. showers: they’re just not as good in summer.
6. my trusty leather jacket (made from my trusty steed cow).
7. having albino peers! soon you’ll all be bronzed!

you take the good, you take the bad, and there you have: the facts of life…

and a number one hit! go Miley! GET DOWN WITH YOUR BAD SELF.

out with the old, in with the eww…

i was walking in the RAIN from the bus this morning, on my way to my once-a-fortnight coffee (it’s pay day), and this particularly aggressive walker was gaining on me with her CLAP CLAP CLAPPITY FUCKING CLAP heels. after about four minutes, she caught up to me and (in a voice that matched the aggression in her walk) said “excuuuuse me!, EXCUSE me? EXCUUUUSEE MEEEE!!!”… i finally turned around, not understanding she was addressing her screech at me. when i did turn around, i was met with a rather judgemental look and the frank statement that “your skirt is hitched up”. i looked down to my oversized tshirt (which is probably not an appropriate subsitute for a dress, but whatever), and saw that it was barely lifted ONE CENTIMETRE (i have since measured it). i laughed (KINDLY) and said “oh, it doesn’t matter!”, but she semi-scowled and said “oh”. and then i fucking ruined it by saying “i’m wearing leggings, it’s fine!” even though i’m clearly wearing stockings. she then turned without saying anything and clip-clopped off, thus overtaking me. IT WAS ALL A PLOY. you see, there are two coffee places one can choose from of a morning in chippendale (where i work): one is famed and favoured by most, and the other is my favourite, because they make a mean soy latte, and only charge $2.50! no extra for soy! and i just really don’t like the other coffee. it’s a personal choice. ANYWAY. clappity heel prude lady storms ahead of me and GETS TO MY COFFEE PLACE FIRST. thus rendering me completely unable to enter said coffee place. so here i am drinking my $3.00 giant cup of bitter spew, an hour and a half after buying it. does this woman realise she has deprived someone of their ONE coffee a fortnight?! i hope her coffee was horrible. and NO i am not overreacting!

but i don’t like to end things on a bitter note, so here’s something sweet:

(but more on that later)

-lucy