Dude, have you looked outside lately?
This is only breaking news for those of you just coming out of a coma (and if you’re one of those people, thanks for reading when you clearly have a lot on your plate), but I just wanted to state the obvious for historical record that it’s been cold as balls outside for the past few days.
Incidentally, why do people say “cold as balls”? That makes absolutely no sense. Have you people ever touched balls? Not cold, that’s for sure.
People seem to have two approaches for dealing with this kind of unholy cold: either stockpile supplies, barricade the doors, crank the heat and watch three consecutive seasons of ‘24′ or stubbornly charge out into the freezing tundra like it’s not happening (defiantly wearing no hat for additional rebellion points) and go about business as usual. I fall into the former category.
I spent three days preparing for the Plan: hoarding food, drink, DVDs and reading material, so I wouldn’t have to stick a toe out of the building until at least Tuesday. But what’s that saying about even the best laid plans being effed in the face of hangover cravings?
After a quick succession of both horridly bad professional and personal news on Friday, I cracked open the first Strongbow cider at about 3pm and proceeded to do away with enough 17 ounce cans in the next seven hours to cover the local Strongbow distributor’s next Jaguar payment.
The next morning a three day, faint craving for Maria’s huevos pericos came to a head. Fortunately, I had a co-conspirator with access to a vehicle that not only starts in cold weather, but has those in-seat ass warmers that should be standard issue for all cars sold in Minnesota.
As we drove to Maria’s at the crack of 10am, I was stunned at how many people were out and about, including a guy on the street campaigning for the second annual Britney Spears Worst Parent of the Year Award, who had not only left his hat at home, but was carrying his infant who was also sadistically denied a hat. That’s how the dinosaurs got wiped out, you jackass!
Maria’s was baffling packed, largely with the class of people that like to eat breakfast and then sit there in full view of 15 people waiting for tables while they sip at a final cup of coffee for 90 minutes. I greedily consumed my hangover breakfast (adding one raspberry pancake for good measure) and we reluctantly headed back out into the cold, cursing the team of scientists that haven’t managed to invent transporters yet, even though they would be totally awesome and probably save the environment.
I haven’t spent a winter in Minnesota for over four years (though one year I spent the winter in northeast Romania which was similarly objectionable), but I seem to have lost the dogged Midwest spirit of marching out into dangerous cold and nearly freezing to death just to show God who’s boss. “Take that Mother Nature! I walked five blocks from my car to ‘Drink’ through 20 below wind chill with no jacket and all that happened was that the tip of my nose lost all sensation and turned black! Who’s your daddy?”
I only spent a cumulative 75 seconds outside and I dressed for an Everest expedition, so I got home without ever being in danger of losing a digit to frostbite, though if you’d have x-rayed me just after I stepped in the door, you’d have found my testicles up in my abdomen, cowering next to my liver.
In any case, I’m back in the apartment now with the armoire shoved up against the door and there will be no further deviations from the Plan until we get back into the 20s. Meanwhile, through the magic of the internet, I’ll be catching up on episodes of “30 Rock”, “The Office” and “My Name is Earl” while surviving on fruit, pasta and Everything Omelets.
How are all of you coping?
