I'll get down to business; snow is a terrible thing. It's the worst thing. I envy those from regions where there is little (I say 'little' because I worry that I would tire of its absence if it didn't appear maybe, oh, once a year) of this white menace and would prefer my immediate vicinity to take a hint from the wisdom of others. At the very least, my city needs to make the conscious decision to smarten the fuck up and kick this snow out.
Breaking it down goes as follows:
- Initial snowfall - One of the worst parts of the process. I can't garner wages during any form of precipitation. Trying to film in the rain is arguably worse, but snow also tends to attach itself to my camera and stay there, melt, and seep into mechanisms unseen. It also seems to enjoy falling slightly past the brim of my hat, immediately swooping upward and placing its ass ever-so-daintily upon my eyeball while my eyeball is open and trying to look at a thing. Snow is like James Bond, if he were very small, and a dick. If I ever meet Sean Connery, I'm going to tell him to tell M to stop hiring snow as a form of warfare against me. I'd tell her myself, but I'm afraid my harsh words might rattle her into a heart attack. You know, because she's old. Snow is hard to gauge for personal efficacy since you may think you can still accomplish outdoor tasks, but once you get out there, you realize it's just as aggravating as if it were a tornado.
- Flurries - Every time I hear the words "snow flurries" in a sentence like "there's going to be snow flurries," I load a shotgun. I have several positioned strategically around my house, in such a fashion that I can fire one and the others will simultaneously erupt into concentrated explosions, the shrapnel aimed directly at my head. Snow flurries are like Satan's way of saying "I told you this place fucking sucks." Don't go outside, unless you enjoy the feeling of tiny icicles penetrating everything that isn't wrapped in buffalo hide. You can't open your eyes if you're walking at all against the direction of the wind, so you can't see shit, and it's cold and wet. More on "cold and wet" later.
- Cold and wet (or, I Told You So) - The area in which I live grants us the luxury of extreme regional cold followed by moderate regional warmth. This means that the thinner layers of snowfall promptly freeze, coating everything in an innocent layer of frictionless, transparent surface. When you step foot on this surface, you get a one-way ticket to "Being Cold and Wet" Town; Population: Assholes. Perhaps you fall on more of this substance (which, if you haven't figured it out by now, is ice), which gives you a free transfer ticket to "So That's What My Brain Matter Looks Like" City. Or, inconveniently, you fall into a puddle of wet shit or a local snow bank, which effectively ruins whatever your mood was previously and makes everything you're doing three or four times more irritating. Cold and wet is probably the worst thing that winter brings.
- Slush - This is one of those red flags that indicate when the Earth is sick of our shit. There exists a substance that, when mixed with dirt, becomes cold, wet, sloppy, sticky dirt. Those of you claiming that mud also fits that description can fuck right off, because it's not at all the same thing and you know it. Well, perhaps you don't, so I'll fill you in. Imagine a thing that you hate. You loathe it. Imagining this item, object or condition alone causes you distress. I bet it's slush. It's always slush. Some dick has the nerve to reproduce, and spawns a child who, with insurmountable genius, decides to pile it all together and jump on it with gusto. The slush flies everywhere, and if you're nearby, you die immediately. Slush will kill you.
I know I left my general "hate everything to some degree" principle off the list, but that's because it's more of a rule for living than a seasonal nuisance. These are all reasons why winter is awful. Maybe I'll turn it into a video, since these posts receive anywhere between zero and virtually zero views.