TITLE: Talkin' Smack to the New England Weather
DATE: 2/09/2005 04:04:00 PM
Hey! Mother Nature! No, bitch, over here!. Yeah, I'm talking to you.
Listen up, ya punk-ass ho. That's right, I called you a ho. And you'll like it too. Because you are a ho. AND a slut, AND your butt is fat. How's that.
I bet you think you're hot stuff after some of that shit you pulled in January. I bet you think we're all brutalized down here, cowering beneath the yards of snow and howling winds you unleased a few weeks ago. But I'm here to tell you, that puny shit was nothing. You oughta be ashamed of yourself. Is that the best you can do? Hey, maybe it is. Maybe you're just off your game this year.
Fact is, it doesn't look much like the 18-20 inches all the weathercasters were blabbering about is really going to materialize, you know what I'm saying? Not with these sunny, blue skies and fifty-degree temperatures this afternoon. It would take some truly incredible skills to bring about a blizzard after this kind of afternoon. And you know...I just don't think you're gonna do it.
Nope. You heard me. You can't do it. There is no way you're going to go soft on us like this this afternoon and then turn around and dump two feet in the next, say, 12 hours, leaving the entire eastern seaboard of Massachusetts completely snowed in until Friday. Absolutely no conceivable chance of you actually raining down winter wrath on our heads to the point where we can't even get out of our houses until Thursday at, say, around 4 pm, and therefore would have to call in to work tomorrow and sit in our pajamas drinking coffee and watching DVDs and surfing the Internet and blogging all day after sleeping in till about 10.
Shit, I would really hate that...but you won't do it.
Nope. No way. You've pulled this two faced crapola on us a million times. I bet it's going to be 70 degrees tomorrow. Because you haven't got any snow left, have you? You're just bluffing.
And even if you did have snow left, you're probably just waiting to ruin some kids' February vacations or another one of my weekends. So when those forecasters start blathering about winter storm warnings and such, I'm just going to completely ignore it. I may not even bring my boots home tonight. How would that be? Huh? How would you like me then?
Come on, bitch, bring it. You're nothing. You're nothing. I can see it in your eyes, you've got no game this time around. I know it. You know it. Come on, now, let's be honest.
You won't do it.
You're too much of a Sally.