Fuck you and the horse you road in on!
I am a little tired of the cold. And the layers. And the cold. And the teeth clacking. And the slip sliding. And the paper dry skin that slices open to the very bone on every available surface, like your ticket to a Broadway show, and then bleeds all over your pants, the aforementioned ticket and your sippy cup then stops bleeding but opens up the next day in the shower to bleed all over your freshly cleaned flesh and your far less clean bath towel.
Yeah, winter and I need some couples counseling because otherwise this relationship is just not going to fucking work out long term.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
A Message To Winter
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yah, fuck winter! don't even bother with the counseling. just kick it the hell out.
ReplyDeleteA-fucking-MEN, Sistah. Wanna defect to the Caribbean with me?
ReplyDeleteWinter called and said he was sorry. I told him I'd talk to you on his behalf.
ReplyDeleteBut I'm not gonna.
He's bad news and I just won't be an enabler.
Yes! Winter, fuck you, you fucking fuck!
ReplyDeleteDid you take that picture at work? Because I think I requested a picture yesterday and I was fucking turned down! What the fuck?!
It's good to have this kind of support during a break up.
ReplyDeleteAuntie, I believe you asked for a specific sort of picture that I was unable to provide. Anytime you need a picture of me flipping the camera off I'm your girl.
Sorry you nearly bled out, but I was laughing at the whole sippy cup in the earlier post. Down in Louisiana, they are called "go cups." Not "to go," just "go."
ReplyDeleteKeep on flipping off brother winter. Pretty soon, I'll be flipping off the hot, humid summer. It will be here before we know it.
Winter bite my cold, chapped ass!
ReplyDeleteSo so so sorry. I apologize for our warm California sun.
ReplyDeleteMy son is in Brooklyn, and whenever I read your lament about winter I think of him.
Is your son as unimpressed by this past week's weather as I am?
ReplyDeleteI shouldn't mention it's in the 80s today here, then, should I?
ReplyDelete