With the risk of sounding like I am trying to make small talk with you, readers, I feel I have to talk about what we are all thinking every single second of the day: It’s coooooold outside! And not in the fun Dolly Parton, Rod Stewart way. In the way that makes me flick tiny icicles off my nostrils as I ski down the streets of New York City. New…York…City, you hear that Mother Nature? Not freaking Anchorage, Alaska! What the hell is going on here? My hands have that old-man red, dry, cracking and bleeding thing going on that I’m sure everyone around me (especially those who have to shake it) are totally appreciative of.
Look, I’m all about a little snow or even a small chill, because it allows me to get decked out in my cutesy Ugg earmuffs (oh, you didn’t know I was shmancy?), Northface jacket, and matching hat/gloves/scarf set. Then I take selfies on the train of how adorable I look and write hashtags like #brrr and #imisssummer but I don’t really mean it. What I mean is #iamsocuteinmyhat #butdontwanttosoundcocky.
But this weather? The only selfie I’m taking in this weather is to use my iPhone mirror-like and check to make sure my frost-bitten nose hasn’t begun turning black and falling off.
I’m sure the Eskimos in Antarctica (there’s are Eskimos in Antarctica, right?) are all like, “Boo hoo for you, stupid New Yorkers. 4°, how about -40°? Well, here’s what I have to say to you Antarcticans: (1) Who in their right mind would choose to live in those kinds of conditions? We chose to live in New York City because it’s not -40°! (2) Do you even have technology there? (3) If you don’t have technology how are you reading this blog?
Okay, guys, I’ll cool it with the bashing of the Antarcticans. I think they can do shit with their minds.