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.
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!
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.
7.it’s fucking cold!
constantly. no respite. seriously.
all that said, i will miss:
- a legitimate excuse to dress like a massive dag.
- the moment a good hot chocolate touches my tongue.
- the smell of burning rubber under my desk, as my feet get intimate with my heater.
- being able to walk to work and not die from heat exhaustion.
- showers: they’re just not as good in summer.
- my trusty leather jacket (made from my trusty steed cow).
- 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.