Posts Tagged ‘winter sucks balls’

Seasonal Wardrobe Affective Disorder

Monday, February 9th, 2009

 

Friends, this blog has sucked giant donkey balls of late and for this, I am sorry. I put it down to one thing and one thing only: the winter is not fun times in the TDot. 

Around mid-December, I tend to just shut it down and say ‘see you in April!’ There is really nothing so important that I should have to leave my house in sub zero temperatures. You expect me to socialize? Oh, guess again, tubby. Ain’t gonna happen. I get up, I go to work, I come home, I write, I go to bed. And that’s it. For four months. I may try to sneak in a dinner here or catch a movie there, but that’s about as far as it goes. 
And the real reason behind it is my own vanity. See, with the shed load of snow that lands here daily, I cannot wear pretty shoes. And you know what, all I have going for me in life right now is pretty shoes. Without that, I’m nothing! Having to wear ugly ass snow boots and an even uglier coat, that basically looks like a duvet with sleeves, is seriously affecting the diva in me. I honestly cannot bear to go out socializing knowing I have to show up looking like the Michelin Man. 
I see girls who are obviously, just as vain as I and go out in a little jacket and wear their nice shoes and while I applaud them, they just look stupid. I tried to wear a normal jacket once last month and my tits literally froze off. I had to send a search party out to find them. And I’ve tried to wear one of my nicer pairs of boots, but they put so much salt on the ground it feels like I’m walking on a pebbled beach. Unless the city of Toronto plans to reimburse me for damaging my footwear, I just can’t justify trying to look cute right now. 
So day in, day out, I’m basically rocking the same outerwear outfit and it kills my soul. I’m thinking about adding a balaclava to the mix to hide my shame altogether. To compensate, I wear really nice underwear. Not that anyone would ever know. It’s too frikkin’ cold to take my clothes off and show anyone. But you know, should I be hit by a bus, or a snow plough, or a giant icicle falling from the heavens and have to be rushed to the hospital, those ambulance guys will get the show of their lives. 
Given my lack of social life, I’m running low on quirky observations, funny stories and people to talk shit about. But I’m trying folks! Hang in here with me, ’cause I’m gonna keep on truckin’. Come the spring, I’ll be on fire again. Oh and there’s a little trip to New York City at the end of March in the works, which is bound to bring some tales of tomfoolery your way! 

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Dear Winter Boots

Monday, January 7th, 2008


I feel hurt and betrayed by you.

 

You know how hard it’s been for me to put aside my sexy knee high stilettos in favor of your sturdy grip. It’s taken time for me to accept that, during a hardcore Canadian winter such as this, it may not always be possible to put fashion before function, as I love to do.

 

It took me so long to find you. In a sea of heinously unattractive snow stompers, you were by far the best of a bad bunch. Your woolly lining kept my toes snuggly warm and you even came somewhere close to being fashionable. But, after dancing on ice more than a few times in my high heels, it was your grip that made me want you so much. With you on my feet, I could once again stride with pride.

 

Haven’t I been good to you? That leather protector cost me a pretty penny and I doused you in it lovingly. I put you on the rack with all my other shoes, to make sure you don’t feel left out. I know those stilettos can be hard on you sometimes, but don’t listen to those skinny bitches. You’re not fat. They’re just jealous of the way you handle the streets.

 

And this is how you repay me?

 

Why is it, that despite all my love for you, when I strode out of my house this morning into a blustery snowstorm, a few strides in, you decided you didn’t want to play anymore? You gave way beneath me and I tumbled to the ground. Did you think that snow, combined with the ample puffiness of my down coat and the fleshy padding of my hips would cushion my fall? Truth be told, so did I, but you know what’s underneath snow, Winter Boots? Concrete, that’s what. And as the purpleish-brown bruise on my fleshy hip can attest, concrete ain’t no joke.

 

I try to remember our good times; the way I can fearlessly march through puddles, the way you laugh in the face of sub-zero temperatures and always keep my toes toasty warm, the way you make that crunch sound on a fresh snowfall.

 

Oh Winter Boots, I’ve never been able to hold a grudge. Look, it’s the New Year. I’m going to need your help for at least another couple of months. Why don’t we put this unfortunate incident behind us? I don’t think anyone saw me fall and that bruise will heal in time (my ego on the other hand…). What’s say we start over? If you want, tonight I’ll spray you with the leather protector – I know how you love that. But if there’s another slip up, I can’t promise that the sexy knee-high stilettos won’t be snapping at your heels.

 

Deal?

I look forward to walking with you tomorrow.

Bangs

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