Okay, enough. Enough frozen sleet stuck to the glasses, enough frozen, soggy toes, enough busting ass on hardpack snow-ice-dirtshit. Stoicism can only take you so far (as far as the grave) but it’s finally time for the guy who doesn’t bitch about the weather to start bitching, in earnest, about the weather. Anyone who rides a bike for a living gets an extra few rounds at the bar tonight, and every night til this shit clears up.
And that’s it for my winter griping. Nuff said.
Oh, also fuck hyphenated last names. I’m sick of walking into fancy buildings and asking for a package from Horselily Lancaster-Bogenrouge. It makes me feel like an asshole. When you get married, pick one. Got it?
