If you hand me some pompoms and a short pleated skirt, odds are I'll starting chanting, "Snow! Snow! Goooo, snow!" Of course, I'll probably throw up if you actually make me touch pompoms and a short pleated skirt, but whatever. The point is I'm one of snow's biggest fans.
There is a rule to my dedication to Team Snow. The rule clearly states that Team Snow is only allowed to be in play between November and February. Once the calendar flips to March, I break up with snow faster than Joy Behar can say something pointless.
Often, I feel like I'm a One Man Snow Cheering Machine. I'm surrounded by people who think snow is a stupid poopface, to which I say, YOU LIVE IN PITTSBURGH. It snows in Pittsburgh. Every single year. If you live here, you should probably learn to like the snow. If you can't, MOVE SOUTH. Or shoosh. Or both.
The only thing is that after nearly two solid months with snow on the ground, a wicked storm that seems like it happened yesterday (technically the calendar says it has been a year since SnOMG, but I swear it seems like yesterday), and a strong desire to get started on some spring projects that I have plotted out in my head, I'M READY. Snow, be gone! Bring on the sun and 60 degrees! NOW!
I kind of want to punch myself for being impatient, but first I need to figure out if I can pay Phineas and Ferb to build a giant blowtorch that will abolish the snow that is currently falling on the city. I want to see the snow burn, dammit.
Alexis still likes the fluffy stuff, though. The little traitor.