I hate you, Phoenix, Arizona.
Just days ago, while I was trudging through the snow and scraping my car windows and falling on the ice (which I do at least once every single stinking year) all I could think of was you. You and Al Roker.
Al chose you to be the "pick city of the day". "PICKCITYOFTHEDAY!" he said, cheerfully.
And you. You.
You were 'mostly sunny, 60 degrees, and cool'. My eyes are narrowing in anger just thinking of it.
How dare you. Do you know that my pants are wet half way up my calves and caked in salt? That my toes have been numb for weeks? Do you even care? I hate you, Phoenix. That's right. I hate you.
I love you, Phoenix. Can we get married? Can I bring my husband?
2 comments:
Amen and amen.
and sometimes Al Roker bugs me.
I'm just saying.
Seth and I spent at least 30 minutes scraping ice off the cars/driveway this morning so Kev could get to work on time.
Yes, work the day after Christmas. Yes, 30 minutes for TWO people to clear off one car and the driveway.
I can't live in northern UT much longer.
Post a Comment