Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Winter is a man in gold chains *Update*

I loathe you winter.

Your cold and heartless weather. Your senseless acts of blizzards and below zero weather. The way you kill people with your sicknesses that harbor indoors because windows can't be left open.

I was born in the middle of your disgusting season. I never had birthday barbecues, or festival celebrations outdoors with the sun shining on my face. But my kids do. At least the first two. And my youngest, he beat your nasty ass by a month. So HA! You fucker.

I hate you winter and all that you are. You think you can blind people with your pretty snowflakes and your bling bling ice? The way you make the snow glisten in the morning sunshine, only to swipe that sunshine away within seconds and cover it with your ugly grey skies?

You don't fool me.

You are as predictable as a man covered in gold chains, wearing a shirt with disco glitter and sporting a goatee and a sneering smile. Just like Mr. Goatee, you are no good. Rotten. You try to hypnotize with your pretty baubles and then you throw a storm cloud our way and you laugh your evil laugh.

My daughter is sick again. She has an infection. Of what kind I don't know, but her tempatures keep coming back higher and higher. Nurse Hatchett just sent her home again. Giving me a look of disgust like I sent my kid to school with the plague. I am sorry you bitch! She was ok this morning! Now my poor kid has to endure a funky assed doctor's visit so he can determine what Mr. Goatee Winter has given to her. My poor mama. My poor baby girl. Her big eyes are glossed over and sickly. Her smile is weak.

I also keep getting sick. I have sores in my nostrils and an alien that flies out of my chest each morning. My baby has boogers as green as pastures. What the fuck is going on? Why has my poor family endured such a horrible sick season? We usually get hit once and that's it. This bullshit keeps circulating over and over and over! My mother's boyfriend's grandfather just died last week. This man was 100 years old. You know what killed him? Pneumonia. Had he lived in Florida or California, he probably wouldn't have died this winter. But no, he lives in nasty ass, cold as hell Ohio. So, his 100 years were cut short, he probably had a bit of life still left inside of him. But Mr. Winter took care of that.

I hate winter.


My oldest son is now sick.

His poor little three year old body was as hot as the sun. My God, it scared me.

Soaking him in and out of baths, fighting with him to take his children's motrin. Laying with him until he fell asleep.

Then when I was finally able to sneak out of his room, my daughter would wake and moan and call me.

I layed down with her, too. As I stroked her hair, and we laughed about Walter Mercado the "scary guy with a cape". She saw him on tv last week and couldn't stop giggling. When I saw who it was I screamed. I told her I used to be creeped out by him in high school. I guess she thinks it's hilarious.

Anyhow, way off subject here. I am freaking tired and drinking a beer before I go off to lalaland.

And when I go there, I hope it helps me sleep well and deep. And I hope I wake to healthy children.



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