Do you want to know what really gets on my nerves when it snows around here? Do you really? Do you think it’s the drivers? Oh no, I can assure it’s not the drivers that inspire me to want to take an assault rifle against my fellow man. What makes me want to go postal against all of humanity is the prattling braggartly whining about all the local snow drivers. This morning, I’ve checked out all my local blog reads, and ON EVERY SINGLE SOLITARY PAGE it’s the same fucking whine (no offense. tomorrow I’ll love you again. but today, I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!)

I’ve been listening to this same bullshit since I was two and half fucking years old. One or two snowflakes would fall overnight, my father would wake up and exclaim “Look honey! I’m originally from Maine, so when it snows my testicles grow to the size of bowling balls!”

“Me too, dear” my mother would respond, “I was raised in Iowa, so overnight I grew two giant testicles the size of watermelons!”

“Wow, sweetie! Those are a pretty impressive pair you got there! Hey! Look across the street at Ed Smith! He’s a foreman at Bethlehem Steel, but I think he must have grown a pair of breasts overnight.”

“He must have been raised in Maryland, sugar.”

Then my parents push their shoulders back, rest their fists on their hips and laugh heartedly with their false sense of smug superiority. Then they would dance around the kitchen and sing their ‘I can drive in the snow’ song.

“Our parents were dumb enough to raise us cold fucking ice pits!
We’re superior to these silly little Maryland drivers and their tiny little bee bee sized snow driving gonads!” they would sing, over and over and over and over again.

“Well kids, your school administrators are a bunch faggy little whiny bitches, and saw it fit to give you the day off. Go out and have fun in the snow. But remember, you were raised in Maryland, so snow turns you into retards, so be veeeeeerrrry careful. Don’t forget to wear a hat. You DO remember what a ‘hat’ is, don’t you??”

I would look at my sister and ask her if she wanted to make a snowman.

“Do you really want to give them the satisfaction?” she would ask.

“Good point.” Our memories would return to the last snow, when our parents would waddle outside (due, of course, to their inflated testicles) and ask us, “Hey kids, do you want us to teach you how to make snow balls?”

“Uh, I think we can figure it out on our own”

“Are you sure? You ARE Marylanders, after all. I think it’s something in Old Bay seasoning, but something sure does turn you into a bunch morons when it snows outside.”

“Um, yeah, we’re sure.”

“Oh, honey. Do you think we failed our children raising them in a place that will surely turn them into retards every time it snows?”

“I don’t know. I think we may have. Come on! Let’s go drive around the neighborhood just to show off our superiority!”

My sister and I would then walk around the neighborhood, running into neighbors who had been raised in Buffalo, Detroit, Nebraska, etc. etc. Each one showing off and commenting on their inflated testicles and taking pity on our poor snow-retarded souls. “Hey kids, have you EVER seen SNNNOOOOWWW before? Don’t ever try to drive in it, you’re Marylanders and you’ll never figure it out! Ha Ha Ha Ha!!!!!!!”

Years have gone by, storm after after storm has come and gone, and I STILL HAVE TO LISTEN TO THE SAME FUCKING BULLSHIT EVERY YEAR!!!!

You know that asshole that has been sitting in the cubicle next to you for years? You know the one. He’s the asshole from Wisconsin. Every morning it’s the same redundant tiresome crap coming out of his mouth. “I’ll tell you, those guys in Washington sure don’t what they’re doing. he he he he. Back in Wisconsin we sure knew how to run government. he he he he. I’ll tell you, that Gibbs fella sure doesn’t know what he’s doing. he he he he. They have no defense. he he he he he. Back in Wisconsin the Packers always have a consistent defense. he he he he. Yes-ser-ree-bob, if there is one thing we know in Wisconsin it’s defense. he he he he.”

What was that big dorkey flat accented blond Swedish goof ball yapping about this morning? Hmmmmm? Let me guess????

Olly P. Buggerson:

“he he he he he. I’ll tell ya, these Maryland drivers suuuurrrreee don’t know what they’re doing in the snow, do they? Back in Wisconsin, if there was one thing we knew about it was driving in snow, yes-ser-ree-bob. We didn’t have any of those fancy SUV’s either, let me tell ya. Evvverrry Sunday morning, my dear Grandma Leena T. Hummerson, would drive her Pinto through ten feet of snow to get to the Lutheran Church, let me tell ya. Then she would come home and we would all shove hot water bottles up the asses of our dairy cows. Let me tell ya, yes-ser-ree-bob, it suuurrree was cold back in WeeeesKaaaaanSen. But we didn’t complain, no-ser-ree-bob. We had to shove hot water bottles up the asses of our dairy cows to survive. If we didn’t, there would be nothing but government cheese for us, let me tell ya. Not like these Marylanders. he he he he he. They suuureee don’t know how to drive in the snow....................”

I don’t even work in an office, and I want to sneak into yours, wrap his telephone chord around his neck and squeeze EVERY FUCKING LAST BREATH OUT OF IRRITATING LIFE!

Yes-ser-ree-bob. Let me tell ya.