Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Fucking Snow

Ya'll I hate the snow. The thing about Seattle is that people here are not used to it. So when the forecast is snow they get all excited and rub their hands together with glee.

I don't. I am from Iowa. I associate snow with cold, wet feet and having to wear dorky boots to school.

It's snowing here. It wasn't snowing at my house so I came in. Big mistake. I might possibly be spending the night in my office tonight. JOY.

Fucking snow.

No one else is here yet. Not that this is THAT unusual. Most people get here in two hours. But Alice is not here. She left a loud and throaty message on my voice mail. Something about dying of the plague. So maybe other people will be stupid like me and come into work today and I will not have to be alone.

Actually alone might be sort of fun.


My mother has decided that we are all going to D*sneyworld for Christmas next year. She is teaching an extra class to pay for us all to go. To this I say OK.

I know that some people think that you shouldn't let your parents pay for you to do things once you are in your mid to late twenties. But the truth is that J and I couldn't afford to go next year--at least not and stay in the places that my parents want to. And if we don't than they won't have as much fun. So I will just have to put away my pride a little longer.

My mother has this obsession with D*sneyworld. We have been like six times as a family, plus a couple of trips to D*sneyland, plus they went for their thirtieth wedding anniversary a few years ago. To her it is heaven. And since my sister lives in Florida it is also probably the only way we will ever get to have Christmas with her again.

And J has never been. He has been to D*sneyland a couple of times--the first time he got scarlet fever halfway through the day (and understandably felt shitty and did not enjoy himself at all) and the other time his group got thrown out before doing anything.

And he has never been there with my mother. Who would be a professional D*sneyworld visitor if such a thing existed. She is excellent at planning routes and knowing what lines to stand in and what shows to see and when to go take a nap at the hotel. I am not sure how she knows these things--it appears to be instinctive. Like great surgeons with steady hands, my mother seems to have been born with some sort of gift to help her with her chosen path.

Can you tell I've got nothing to talk about today? Sorry.

I will try not to be such a fuckwit tomorrow.

6:16 a.m. :: comment ::
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