About once every two years I meet someone during the winter who proudly exclaims, “I love winter!” You ever stumble across one of these foolios?
I look at him (it’s always a him) and I say, “I don’t believe you.”
By the way, these winter-lovers always talk about it from the office at work which is already comfortably heated to 72 degrees.
During this monologue they’ll wax poetic about how they’ve always loved the cold, the snow, skiing, and tobogganing down the hill at the local park with with grandpa.
Because my bullshit detector needle is rattling like crazy, I then say, “So – you honestly, even today, feel better in the cold then in the warm sun?”
And then it’s always, “I sure do!”
I immediately cross the bozo off next year’s holiday card list. Because this is a filthy liar. Nobody actually prefers cold over heat. Sure, a nice glass of ice water is perfect on a hot summer day, but that’s about it.
Winter rots. You get no sun, the women all wear too much clothes to make out their curves, and the ice cream shops close down. Plus, people are generally miserable. You have to stay inside, you develop colds, and you put on weight. You may even pick up that affect disorder thing.
You know what really skeeves me out? That grey mound of snow that is piled eight feet high in the corner of the supermarket parking lot from January through the end of February. I’m pretty sure it’s frozen cancer.
But when we think about winter, our minds trick us. We often reminisce of the fun times in our youth. Shoveling the driveway with dad, opening up Christmas presents, going ice skating, drinking hot chocolate, and warming near the fire.
But we don’t actually like winter.
Just like 33 year old women don’t actually like Poison.
But get a group of ex-sorority girls drunk on lemon drops during karaoke night, and four will stumble on stage and sing Every Rose Has Its Thorn.
Here’s how you know that song is a sack of farts. Because nobody sober ever pulls out a cd of Poison’s Greatest Hits. You don’t own the album, and it’s not on your mp3 player.
The same goes for winter. It blows. Admit the mofo.
You notice how you never hear anyone on the beach in mid-July shaking their fist angrily at the sky yelling, “Enough of this sun shit – bring on a refreshing blizzard!”? If you did, you’d step away slowly never turning your back on this obviously dangerous psychopath.
So, for all you people that need to be different and tell everyone how much you love the winter, fine. Go outside.