snow is super dope. that's the truth.
the first couple of storms every year are SO fresh.
and refreshing.
that white blanket of holiday hottness looks good.
really good.
it smells good, too.
snow air, ninjas.
i could sniff that sh!t all day.
you've got to get with the winter pop-off while it's still young.
snow gets old pretty fast.
and by old,
i mean ugly. (sorry hot old people, you're the exception)
and by ugly,
i mean footprinted, rock salted, and dog peed.
by february we'll be buried in a bank of brown sandy blops,
with some heinous fast food wrappers trapped all mammoth-style inside.
but right now,
in these immediate moments,
it is flippin' dope.
we got that magical hemlock tree all faerie-fluffed and fairy folked.
we've got the mountains looking turbo sexy,
and we've got the plow guy coming to save the day, and our backs.
backbreaking labor is just not that sexy.
beast-with-two-backs labor is,
but not sweaty, runny-nosed snow-blowing so much...
and so the plow blaster is very necessary.
we were supposed to only get a minky little dusting.
sure,
if a dusting is six inches of powder over half an inch of ice.
those silly little weathermen.
they must not have a window in their satellite live-doppler robo-bobotron room.
if you're telling me what's coming while something else entirely is happening,
you sound like an A-hole.
i'm just sayin'.
***********
i had a barbarian battle-wrap party last night.
i used a whole roll of magic tape, too.
i don't know what's so magical about it, either;
i mean, it ran out, after all...
y'know,
some people still want us to remember the reason for the season.
as long as that reason is geting treats for your peoples,
then i'm on board for whatever else is poppin'.
don't get me wrong;
i'm all about wise men.
smart wizards with beards and good smelling treats?
hell yeah.
otherwise,
desert barn babies and virgin moms can totally chug it.
i'm sayin',
the jolly german woodsly gift-man notwithstanding,
all that saintly celebration business is not my style.
it's not even a hard-style.
more like a no-style.
it ranks up there with all-blue light trimming on trees,
and all-white plastic trees,
and inflatable manger nativity lawn dioramas.
lameness of the weakest-sauce-level ever.
end of the year long nights and hard times,
not to mention old, cold bones,
deserve a little ceremony and celebration,
but if i'm repping for any babies,
it won't be little baby jesus.
(it might be big baby jesus, though. wu-TANG!)
and it surely won't be waterbaby whiners, either.
baby new year may get some props,
but otherwise, it's just the perpetual viking gratitude and generosity.
i will be blazing the berserker furious fuego for the solstice, though.
because that's at least a real thing.
elseways,
XI-mas is purely about homeboy/girl appreciation times.
magic taping, knuckle-scraping, and memory making, my ninjas.
it's all really happening, that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....
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