I’m White on Rice

It’s officially summertime for me. Which means a lot of great things, like eating watermelon and riding my bike and playing tennis and finally getting to swim in water instead of chlorine. But one the best things about summer is that I will no longer look like Casper the Friendly Tool Ghost.

I mean, I really need to spell this out for you, Internet. You’re probably thinking, “Yeah, every white person is pale in the winter, shut up.” In which case you’re kind of harshing my mellow, but it’s fine, I’ll forgive you. Anyway. That might be true, but I am paler than all of them. I practically glow in the dark. I am so white that a polar bear in a snowstorm looks Brasilian in comparison.

So, I like to be tan. And now that there is sunshine in the world again, people will stop trying to put carrots on my nose because they think I’m a snowman. What a relief!

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Winter Wilds

Do you ever just feel like doing something absolutely outrageous, like dancing on a table or streaking or rescuing a giraffe from the zoo and making him be your pet? I get this feeling that I call the “summer wilds,” on account of the fact that it typically takes place in the summer, but I guess my brain is seasonally confused because I have it right now.

Seriously, on January 2nd, I am done with snow and being freezing cold everywhere I go and wearing thirty-seven layers. And not the cute kind of layers, but long-johns (okay, I don’t actually wear those, although if I did it might solve Thing I Hate About Winter #2) and fifty scarves. The snow is all charming and adorable during the holidays, but afterward, when it’s all pollution-dirty and icy? Not so much.

Right now, I just want summer. And I know, those people who bitch all summer about how hot it is and then change their tune are dumb. But seriously, it was -11 yesterday, so fuck it, I want sunshine and sand.

Either way, though, I kinda have that let’s-go-crazy mentality usually reserved for when I’m not pale and suffering from frostbite. Except that I know I’ll be all, “Yeah, let’s rage, come on, let’s go!” and bop outside with some contraband FourLoko and then be all, “Shit, no,” and stumble back into a warm bed.

Long story short, I am just going to shut up, calm down, and appreciate the good things about the world being an icy hell. Like warm cozy blankets, and hot coco with whipped cream, and watching people slip and fall in the snow.

Snow Now

I love winter. I love it. I love the snow, and I love the holidays (except Thanksgiving, but luckily, we’ve already jumped that hurdle), and I love my winter hat (it has four deelyboppers, otherwise known as pom-poms on strings, and it makes me look approximately four years old, and it is wonderful).

Sadly, my current city really just hasn’t checked a calendar lately. Yesterday’s weather was stormy with a chance of Noah’s Ark, followed by flooding. (In case you couldn’t tell, it was really rainy.) Today is bright and sunny and thirty-nine degrees, but it feels warmer. But you know what hasn’t happened in the middle of all this schizophrenic weather? SNOW.

I mean, it’s December! Is it so much to ask for that some pretty, Thomas Kincade-like snow-showers happen? (Obviously it is, because they’re not happening. But anyway.) I just don’t know how to handle winter without snow. I like to sled (okay, I love it, to the point where I have scars on both sides from sledding adventures, but that’s another story) and cross-country ski and make awkward hipster snowmen.

Instead, I have to freeze my ass off while looking at dead grass and trees with no leaves. Just personally, I’d rather freeze my ass off while looking at a pretty snowy landscape. Because, for some reason, my brain can’t comprehend that cold can exist without snow (I blame my hometown–address: Antarctica, Ice Town [a hamlet of Freezingville in the county of Snowbuckets], on Sleet Street. Ahh, see what I did there?). So I look out my window, on a day like this one, and I think to myself, “Oh, sunshine! It can’t possibly be chilly!” And then you know what I do? Wear flip-flops.

I mean, it’s not Mother Nature’s fault I’m an idiot, but you have to blame somebody, right? So, if you’re reading this, MN, send a little snow my way, huh? And then maybe (maybe) I’ll pretend I care about Arbor Day.