Where's that other shoe?
You know, that proverbial one that drops all the time. No, not that one, the other one. Wait, I think that might be it...
Today went swimmingly. As is the fickle nature of the mob (just ask any Shakespearean scholar...or geek), despite Wednesday being a huge honkin' mess out in the retail world (it took my dad an hour to get a gift certificate for my mother at the bookstore where they frequently have ten cashiers on during Christmas), I got all my charity shopping done by noon. Let me say that again, because I love the way it sounds: I got all of my charity shopping done by noon. That's eight places I hit (not including the bank!) in three hours. I had plenty of time to get home and sort and bag everything and had two hours to spare getting it all up to the charity building before they closed for the week. HA. Eat it, clown!
But it was cold all day. Like, sorceress's mammaries cold. As in, retraction of testicles cold. To wit, a fair bit below freezing. It took me three tries to dress appropriately before leaving the house (not wishing destruction upon my own extremities). Logically, one could then presume that the evening would be much, much colder. Like it does. It didn't occur to me, however, that it would be five. Five. That's how many degrees. Five. Oh, yeah, that's Fahrenheit. So to anyone outside the US reading this, that's negative fifteen. How do you people even live somewhere where that amount of cold sounds so ominous? I mean, Five is bad enough, but at least it's still a positive number. The rest of the world? You all call it like it is, state outright that this level of cold sucks irritable donkey balls, and slam that cold right where it belongs: Negative Fifteen!
Damn, that even sounds colder. I think I'm going to start converting everything to kelvin. It's going to be 258.15 tonight. That doesn't sound so bad. Confusing, though, sounds more like what you're going to slow-cook the stew at. But better than NEGATIVE FIFTEEN, BUAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!
Today went swimmingly. As is the fickle nature of the mob (just ask any Shakespearean scholar...or geek), despite Wednesday being a huge honkin' mess out in the retail world (it took my dad an hour to get a gift certificate for my mother at the bookstore where they frequently have ten cashiers on during Christmas), I got all my charity shopping done by noon. Let me say that again, because I love the way it sounds: I got all of my charity shopping done by noon. That's eight places I hit (not including the bank!) in three hours. I had plenty of time to get home and sort and bag everything and had two hours to spare getting it all up to the charity building before they closed for the week. HA. Eat it, clown!
But it was cold all day. Like, sorceress's mammaries cold. As in, retraction of testicles cold. To wit, a fair bit below freezing. It took me three tries to dress appropriately before leaving the house (not wishing destruction upon my own extremities). Logically, one could then presume that the evening would be much, much colder. Like it does. It didn't occur to me, however, that it would be five. Five. That's how many degrees. Five. Oh, yeah, that's Fahrenheit. So to anyone outside the US reading this, that's negative fifteen. How do you people even live somewhere where that amount of cold sounds so ominous? I mean, Five is bad enough, but at least it's still a positive number. The rest of the world? You all call it like it is, state outright that this level of cold sucks irritable donkey balls, and slam that cold right where it belongs: Negative Fifteen!
Damn, that even sounds colder. I think I'm going to start converting everything to kelvin. It's going to be 258.15 tonight. That doesn't sound so bad. Confusing, though, sounds more like what you're going to slow-cook the stew at. But better than NEGATIVE FIFTEEN, BUAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!