You can't look away

Thursday, March 6, 2014

B.I.T.C.H. It's Real.

Newsflash: It's still cold. I hate being cold. Hate. It. In fact, I'm typing this under a fur-lined hooded onesie while wearing mittens. It's hard to type with mittens so forgive the tuypoosd typos. What the shit, Mother Nature?! Seriously? This weather is affecting me and not in a good way. I'm fat, I'm pasty and I've essentially become a soup-slurping shut-in. I just looked at myself in the mirror and noticed my skin is reaching translucency. I was hoping for the beautiful alabaster complexion of a Cate Blanchett but have achieved more of an underground naked mole rat vibe.  I thought maybe I had SAD, but it's so much worse. You know about SAD, right? It stands for Seasonal Affective Disorder: A condition in which people who have normal mental health (like me, heh) throughout most of the year, experience depressive symptoms in the winter months. I've made a special classification of my disorder, beyond SAD, which I call B.I.T.C.H.
Because It's Too Cold Here, or BITCH, as I've said, is a real thing and I have it. It's real because I just made it up. Boom. Look up BITCH and you'll see my face. Wait.

A bout of BITCH can affect anyone, anywhere, but because the South doesn't know how to deal with the cold, (hence the HERE part) people below the Mason-Dixon line are particularly affected. My people and I are ill-equipped for this extended winter. I'm from Louisiana where it is regularly 110* in the shade and it's no biggie. I can do 110 all day long. I now live in Texas, so it's pretty much the same weather and more importantly, it is Spring, for Christ's sake! It's March, people! By end of March, we are usually floating down the Guadalupe, beer in hand, listening to Willie Nelson alongside a shirtless Matthew McConaughey, alright? Alright, alright...  But this year? They've just announced another Winter Storm Warning, which includes icy conditions, possible school closings and 100% chance of me losing my fleece-lined shit. Yep. We've been BITCH-slapped by Mother Nature.

The cold always bothered me anyway, BITCH.
And yes, I know it's sooo much worse where you are, Yankee-- I get it. You shut it, too, Canada. You are made from heartier stock than I. Yes, I know- it's 14 below and you just shoveled your way out of your igloo to drive carpool, all while eating ice cream and wearing board shorts. Hooray for you. Slow clap. If I wanted to be this cold for this long I would move to fucking Minnesota. I don't do cold. Salt is for our margaritas, not our roads.

The journey from SAD to BITCH was a short one. BITCH makes me and everyone around me freak the fuck out. BITCH causes weight gain, hoarding tendencies, gridlock on the highway, (Big ups to Atlanta!) and as a direct result of BITCH, one of the worst symptoms of all: The perpetual Ugg-wearing Eski-ho. The Uggs have been on since October and cannot be removed with traditional therapies.
"It's so chilly, y'all"
BITCH can affect anyone of any age but it seems to hit mothers of school-age children (hellooo) the hardest. Being trapped indoors with children can cause anyone to lose it. And listen-- I love my children in small doses, don't get me wrong, but there is only so many times you can hear the theme song to Disney's "Jesse." HEY JESSAY! HEY JESSAY! before you go full BITCH and punch the TV.

You say you yelled at your kid and trashed her 4,246 Rainbow Loom bracelets? Blame the BITCH. You told your Current Legal Spouse to go fuck himself after he drank the last of the hot chocolate? It's not your fault; that's the BITCH talking. But, really, what the hell was he thinking?

It's supposed to warm up soon. I'm looking forward to crawling out of my lair and feeling the sunlight on my face. Until then, I'm looking into BITCH therapy. I'm thinking one of those George Hamilton tanning lights, a kiddie pool, a Pez dispenser full of Xanax and heavy doses of vodka.

I'll let you know how it goes. Until then, stay toasty my friends.

I want to fill these with broccoli cheese soup and put them on.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Sochi What-chi?

The Winter Olympics are almost over. I gotta say, I was a tad bored. We prefer the summer games, don't we all? I don't mean to sound unpatriotic-- I love 'MERICA but I mean, after the ugly sweater debacle, the opening ceremony fuck ups, Sochi failed to hold my attention. Thank goodness for Johnny Weir, former Olympian and now very colorful commentator. Amid Russia's anti-gay laws, he is a bright beacon of daily fiercenessss, symbolically sticking his American middle finger up Putin's tight ass. Nobody puts Johnny in cargo pants. Not only that, he actually knows what he's talking about. I dig him, and I love the banter that he and Tara Lipinski have, even though sometimes he's dressed like my Aunt Sue on her way to play Bridge.

Middle America doesn't know what to think about him, but answer me this: Did Johnny's tiara make Bode Miller cry? No. No, it did not. Sparkle on, Johnny Weir. WERK.

Other than that, meh. I tried to get into it, but eventually I turned back to my real love-- the internets. That's where I found this: CAT CURLING. I know, right? I was mesmerized.

This! This is more like it! And it got me thinking- what other events could they add to liven things up, four years from now? I had a few thoughts:

Full-Figure Skating- There are a lot of portly folks who are surprisingly light on their feet and great dancers. I'm willing to bet more than a few are kick-ass ice skaters. If you think about it, they are insulated against the cold and probably bounce when they eat ice on a triple Salchow. Win/Win.
Farley takes GOLD
Nordic Combined Combine- Cross country skiers and jumpers compete and the fourth runner-up, i.e., LOSER, is fed into a farm combine harvester. Grisly? yes. Riveting? Hell yes! You'd totally watch that and don't even pretend otherwise. Sickos.

Speedskating- In my version, everyone competing takes a couple of hits of speed ten minutes before the race. Hilarity ensues. Possible heart attacks are just a bonus. How has Red Bull not picked up on this? I bet they have.

Luge Ferrigno- Is just what it sounds like: All luge participants dress up like the Incredible Hulk. Duh.

Spooky Skeleton- Like regular skeleton, but spooky! Black lights, organ music. Maybe candy.

Bobsled Costas- Teams of two make timed runs down an ice track. One man steers while the other tries to successfully administer ointment into Bob Costas' eyes.
Take the red eye home, Bob. You're done.

In the meantime, this is a real billboard up now in Chicago concerning the semifinal hockey game between Canada and USA. And it is glorious. Story behind it, here.  GO, USA, for the love of all things, make this a reality.

My friend Kip is a bigwig at NBC/Universal. That's right, I know people- important people. I'm going to try to schedule a meeting and maybe make this happen. Just as soon as Kip and the Olympic committee and Johnny Weir return my calls. I'm going to save the Winter Olympics.

You're welcome.