02 March 2008

dear winter.

Dear winter;

It's me, jama. You know, the January from both hemispheres? Taiwan born and Jersey raised? Yeah, that one. Listen, I usually love you (remember last year in the blizzard with my old Chow? Snow football? Conning people with my shovel skills?) but this time you've given me a downer. No snow and then crappy weather that deceives me--deceives I SAY--into thinking when I wake up in the morning, "Hey, it's not so bad out! I think I'll wear my leather shorts and grandma blouse and celebrate the sunshine."


So here I am, sitting in my paint splattered navy fat pants (my mothers actually, but that's besides the point) instead of wearing my utterly fantastical outfit made of butterflies and punk rock love. You disappoint me, you know. You're really pushin' yer limits, mister. We had what,one snow day? Either give me lots of snow so I can pimp out my horribly decadent and ancient fur coats or just move on for Spring--I have a list of spring outfits in my head that demand attention. DEMAND. Poor babies just cryin' in the corner you know. Do you feel bad now? DO YOU?

It's time to go our seperate ways. Tommorow, I'm going to wear shorts and a t-shirt and tights and brogues and you, my nemesis, my enemy, my woe and my regret, will leave me alone to my play. Don't you even think about giving me smack about how it's going to be like 40 degrees outside and I'll freeze to death and probably get detention for shorts (we can wear skirts and show our cochas but shorts? dsdhfgsdfsf) because that's just immature. And I make immature people cry in my path.

I hate you.


arabelle the fashionably grouchy pirate.