Hi, My Name is Robert

When a new season comes upon me, it's like it was always there. It's like, "Oh, hey, old friend, didn't I just see you yesterday?" Winter tends to be the most hand-in-hand with this sort of thinking. The USA weather patterns dumped a shit load of snow on us yesterday and today, and it's like I never said goodbye to snow to begin with.

This probably has to do with the fact that I'm constantly thinking of winter and snow . . . and how much I hate it. When it gets here, it's like a recurring wart on the bottom of my foot. Like constipation. Oh, I'm familiar with these ailments, and when they reappear it's like they were never gone.

Cold is like stubbing your toe.

Cold is like the mornings your contact lenses don't sit properly in your eyeball.

Cold is like the sliver you, by accident, pushed farther into your finger with tweezers and can only come out when the body itself pushes it out.

Cold is like a bad hair day.

Cold is the caffeine withdrawal headache you get when you can't procure a cup of joe before work.

We all act shocked and surprised when cold comes around. It's not novel shock and surprise. We all know the pain of winter in Minnesota. But we all know the pain of stubbing your toe on the coffee table as you get up to go the bathroom . . . and it shocks us when we do it.

Fuck you, Winter. Welcome back, take your seat. You're like a heckler on the bus that recognizes me and thinks my name is Robert and I helped you fix a boat in Lake Tahoe and you ask me for money and I don't have it and I feel guilty that I'm not being more charitable but shit man you've been doing this since I've known you on this bus and seriously if you ask me again I'm going to tell the driver to let you off because you're in my bubble but I probably won't since I'm kind of a chicken shit when it comes to confrontation so I don't move away to someplace warmer since I'm content to live in complete and utter discomfort come November through April.

. . . I guess I could always buy a new coat, though . . . "Bah, here's a couple quarters. Get something to eat with them, man."

The Kills -- "M.E.X.I.C.O."