Hello hot messes! How are you? I’m on glass #1, sitting by the fireplace in a red velvet jacket smoking a pipe. JK, I’m in my sexy, flannel pants with my soccer shirt, hair up and makeup off. I am like an Amish sex pot at this point. Chichi the Chihuahua lays at my feet, fat from helping me eat my Firehouse sub this evening.
Mother Nature is an ass hole. A COMPLETE ASS HOLE. Someone has to tell her and that someone is me. Below is the imaginary conversation that has played out with that curmudgeon:
Me 3 weeks ago: OMG, this has been the most mild winter on record. I can’t believe this beautiful weather. I mean, 70 degrees in February in Ohio? That’s crazy talk! We are really lucky.
Mother Nature: I’m a bitch and I will ruin your spring. First, I’m going to ring in the month you stated was the month that gives you hope by snowing. This will be approximately 12 hours after it was 55 and sunny. Next, I’d say around mid-March, I’m going to have every weather forecaster predict 0% chance of rain, sleet or snow but TA-DAH! I’m going to pour all 3 on you simultaneously. Wait! You have a 9PM soccer game on Saint Patrick’s Day and it’s outside? Not a problem. For that, I’m going to make it 33 degrees with freezing rain. You’re welcome. Wait…this is too good to be true. Did you just say you have another soccer game at the exact same location just 19 hours later? Well, for that I’m going to have every forecaster tell you it will be 47 and no rain. But like a stripper in a cake I’m going to jump out and surprise you with 38 degrees and torrential downpour.
PREPARATION
I went to the worst place on Earth Friday-Wal-mart, determined to find anything that would make the above nightmare more comfortable. I ended up in the hunting aisle. As I looked to my right and saw guns, I instantly felt guilty and kept walking, only glancing up occasionally to see if I came across anything to stay warm. Finally, next to the dear pee (why is that used to hunt? That is so gross.) the hand warmers were on clearance! Eureka!!!
We put the hand warmers in our gloves, shoes, up to our cold noses. One of the siblings of my son’s teammate put them in her pants to warm her butt. I told her I was sure she could keep those specific hand warmers.
So the games are done for the weekend with the exception of my youngest’s practice occurring as we speak. My husband is the assistant coach so that gets me out of going (thank God). I do not envy him as I’ve had my fill of mother nature. At this point, all I want to do is curl up under a blanket in an underground bunker or something.
Next topic I’ll be writing about? About how the cheapest room at an f’ing waterpark is $363 after taxes. I could stay at a swanky, 5 star hotel for that price. This is for my son’s birthday and I’m having a hard time pulling the trigger.
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