Snow Day

Looks like tomorrow is destined to be a snow day.
I may not even venture into Boston.
Yeah, we’re talking about an ‘effin Nor’easter.
On the menu: snow blowing, cigars and cooking some risotto.
The little one and I may go see a movie (Sweeney Todd) in the afternoon if I can take care of the expected snowfall.
Lord knows, my snowblower is hungry . . . bow, bow, bow.
As of right now, school has already been canceled.
No need to wear the PJ’s inside-out.
I’m going to bed tonight with the glee of a high-schooler.
No school. No work. (with the exception of snowblowing the stoopid white shit)
How strange is that?
Yeah, I’m gone.

And now for something completely different . . .
from the Associated Press:

A man who mailed a cow’s head to his wife’s lover was sentenced to probation and community service. The man, Jason M. Fife of Hunker, “understands that in a civilized society a person cannot send a severed cow’s head to anybody,” said his lawyer, Henry Hilles.
The police said Mr. Fife, 31, obtained the cow’s head from a butcher’s shop, claiming he wanted the dried skull for decoration. Instead, he mailed it, frozen, so as not to alert parcel carriers to the contents, police said.

Wow, talk about a head “fetish”.

And now for something completely different and equally disturbing.

“I thought I was dreaming,” a Warsaw man told the newspaper Super Express after he visited a brothel and saw his wife among the establishment’s employees.
The paper said she had told her husband that she worked at a store in a nearby town.
The couple, married 14 years, are divorcing.

Divorce?
What a freekin’ surprise.
Off to make snow angels . . .

~m

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Single Digits

It was so cold this morning (2º, to be exact) that I saw a politician walking across Boston Common with his hands in his own pockets.
Seriously, it’s friggin’ cold up here.
I’m not complaining, just stating a fact.

But what really frosts my junk are the people that feel a burning desire to remind me just how cold they are with their witty and unoriginal-as-shit banter.

“Cold enough for ya?”

Man, I love that one. Never hear it before either.
No, it’s not cold enough for me.
I love it when my testicles turn a bright navy blue, fall out of my scrotum and shatter on the ground like Christmas ornaments.
And I really love it when I can’t feel my face or my legs. That’s great.
I like it even more when I break off a key inside a padlock preventing me from opening the store where I work and then I freeze my everloving ass off waiting for the too busy locksmith to come and sawzall the goddamned locks so I can get in. (truth)

So, is it cold enough?
Damn it, dude, shut the hell up and go build an igloo. Step AWAY.
Yeah, it’s cold enough for me.
I lied.

The temperature dips into single digits and people just fill up with all kinds of stupid.
And yes, I can hear you.
Why don’t you and the wife move to Florida?

Idaho. Alaska.

~m

Snow

I’m sitting here on Christmas night with not much of anything to blog about but I’ve had a wonderful Christmas and I can’t help but wonder why.
I’m thinking it’s because I am loved.
The girls and Pamela are watching “Hairspray” and laughing and all things considered, my life is good.
I am the richest man in town at this moment.
I thank all of you dearly for leaving such wonderful comments.
Tomorrow is a very special day.
21 years ago tonight, I was driving my lovely and very pregnant wife to the hospital for the birth of our first little girl.
Sarah is 21 tomorrow.
Good God, time flies . . .
Please leave a warm wish or some sage advice for her.
Merry Christmas everybody!
And yes, it’s snowing on my blog tonight.
How apropos is that?

peace,
~m

Happy Birthday, Sas!