what.the.snow.

A caution. there will be profanity in this post.

so i was tired of sitting around with the dog and decided it was time to go locate my porch and my car. i was presented with this:yes, i still have my christmas decorations up, lets get over that and look at the motherfucking snow. of course the dog shot out the door thinking it was a joyous occasion to be let out of her cage and immediately FROZE on the steps like this:


yes. she was stuck. she then turned around and gave me that look that said to me, if you dont get my frozen ass back in the house i will poop in your favorite shoes and chew up that thing you hide in the closet. so i booted her ass back into the house, kicked around some snow until i found the shovel and made a sorta path down the steps. i then decided to tackle the car:um, where the Shatner is my car? surely not under that gianormous pile. or in front of that even more ginormous pile behind it that is blocking my way to the main road. so as i dug out the subi i debated the pros and cons of digging out the driveway. now. -logically- it would make sense to dig it out so that nothing tore up the car. but that part of my brain that usually takes over, the part that sent my five year old self over the hill in the power wheels after i had been specifically told not to play evil knievel, told me to fuck it! that would be so much fun to drive over! but i'm supposed to be working on listening to that damn logical side, so digging to china commenced.

and now for the comedy. picture if you will that i am shoveling. if it helps with the image i am wearing pink and blue striped fleece pants and a hoodie. i am the epitome of haute snow fashion. and i hit this piece of ice/asphalt/whatever. a normal person would, i dont know, find a smarter way to get out of this situation than putting more force on the shovel, resulting in the scoopy part exploding out of the snow and hitting the self in the chesticle region, shattering the already frozen area into a million tiny titty icicles. now i have been walking on that shaky precipice that i like to call Keeping My Shit Together since the snow started. until this point. at which i put my english degree to good use and created a torrent of profanity that would make the father in A Christmas Story cry a tear of pride. luckily no one was around to openly witness this, even though i KNOW the old man next door had been laughing his ass off at me for the better part of an hour. luckily my Hulk Rage (trademark) kicked in and i cleaned out my whole motherfucking driveway. i then took this lovely photo, and collapsed in the bathtub.

i'm quite proud of my manly self and my newly aquired burly blisters on my hands. so proud that i'm rewarding myself with the new vera bradley poppyfield print motherfucking purse.

motherfuckers.