make it go away.

POME ABOUT HOW SNOW SHOULD NOT BE ON THE WORLD.

make the bad potty snow leave.
bad, bad toilet snow.
dirty smelly potty snow,
stinky butt fart snow.
i hate snow.

No longer snowbound thanks to the City of Sumas, I roamed at large yesterday. Our streets are plowed and sanded and have been maintained that way. No sweat; no problem. Run the plow-sander around every few hours while the snow is falling, every evening when it isn't, problem solved, move on.

See, out here on this end of the county people retain some dim memory of weather past and don't spaz the fuck out like a bunch of overstimulated chihuahuas every time the white stuff arrives, like they do down in Seattle. I swear to you.
And whats even worse is that every person with an ailing car and a fresh lobotomy scar decided to take to the goddamn freeway at the same time. And what time was that? Why, right in the middle of the assbastardly BLIZZARD. C'mon, Ru Leen, git them kids inta their shorts and t shirts! Hell yeah I know yew having labor pains. Don't be a damn wimp. Lemme crack open this here bottle of Canadian Mist and go warm up the Volkswagen!
And there they still sit, knawing on their own extremeties and huffing their own funk inside the frozen tombs that their Mitsubishis and Toyotas have become.
WHAT
THE
FUCK.
When I lived in Seattle, I was poor. I was a single mother. I relied on public transport. Still, I did not instantly dash outside like a depressed lemming when the snow hit. I watched the news and the sky and stocked up on cnadles, canned food and baby milk. You see, I knew, thanks to something coded deep within my dim ancestral pool of instinct, that ICE IS SLIPPERY.
And so I would sit in my cozy apartment, cuddled in the bay window seat drinking nice hot soup with my baby, watching the Mercedes-es and the BMWs-es of the financially fortunate skating sideways down 17th Avenue hill, twirling and pinballing from side to side of the street, bouncing off parked cars and snow berms and retaining walls and the front of busses while the clueless organism behind the wheel frantically floored the gas and honked the horn. This would happen all damn day and on into the night. You could hear them beeping and whirring into the distance as they glissanded down into the center of the MLK way five way intersection at the bottom of the hill, where they were turned into the worlds most expensive bump actuated pinwheels.

I got out to see my Goonybird yesterday, and my face still aches from smiling. This is the BEST KID. Of course he has the BEST MOMMY too. He is way into playing lets pretend games, so we sat in a circle on the rug, and he made us a campfire out of whole wheat bread crusts.

So far the Stainless Steel Amazon has failed to chase off her boyfriend, so who knows? I may have to come up with a nickname for this one. Seeing as how he has chosen-voluntarily, without outside coercion, kids; CHOSEN- to contend with my daughter and her amazing Random Death Dealing Temper and Explosions With Fire and Death Fragments Of Deadly Death and Exploding Gasoline Napalm Angry Of Temper, that nickname might just end up being 'Poor Bastard'.
In fact, I think that's it. D, you are hereby christened The Poor Bastard.

If my daughter reads this I am so dead.*snerk!*
MISUSE OF BLOG MEDIUM ALERT:
well, maybe if she changed her tune he would be 'lucky bastard.'
MISUSE OF BLOG MEDIUM COMPLETE

Yeah, I'm going to quit now while I still have an extended family.
I love you all deeply and unreasonably, my darlings, but I cannot spend the time visiting around that I used to because this end of the house is freezing.
This SUCKS.
I MISS YOU.
XOOFN
*snif*