Snow

My friend Jacques (from Italy) hates snow.

He fucking hates it.

I randomly ran into him today and worked really hard to avoid the topic but it became impossible. I asked "How you doing, man?"

He said:

"How am I doing? It fucking snowed last night. IT FUCKING SNOWED! I had to shovel the fucking stuff. It took me 1 and 1/2 hours. My back hurts. My left knee hurts. My arms hurt. I am fucking exhausted. I hate snow and I hate my fucking life.

Do you know what snow is? It is piss. It is shit. I couldn't be any more pissed off if actual shit came out of the sky and buried my car. Snow is every broken promise ever made to me. It is cancer. Arthritis. It is the public beheading of an innocent man.

Snow is a royal pain in the ass. It is inconvenient. It is stupid. I am stupid for dealing with it.

If a sweet, sexy whore bit my dick off, that would be snow. If you bashed in every bone in my face with a baseball bat, that would be snow. If you buried me up to my neck in the sand at low tide and poured honey over my head next to a red ant hill, that would be snow.

Snow sucks the life out of you. It mocks you. It torments you and laughs while you shovel it.

Snow is ass cancer.

The mailman won't deliver the fucking snow unless I shovel the mailbox out. Do you know how hard that is to do after plows have gone up and down the street repeatedly? I want to wait for the mailman in a snowbank and, as he drives by my mailbox, I want to drag him from his fucking government vehicle and cut off his fingers and shove them down his throat.

Snow, man. I hate it and it hates me. It diminishes my life, reducing an already insignificant thing down to a barely visible speck. It fucking kills me. I wish it would kill me so I would never have to shovel it again. But no, it never takes it quite that far. It leaves me broken, crippled and defeated, with just enough life left in me to have to deal with it again on another day."

I was speechless.

But I agreed in principle.