I fucking hate the cold.
I really resent having to wrap up. I know it's just the cycle of the world, and nature needs its downtime, and all that crap, but seriously, I want to move someplace where the lowest the temperature ever goes is mid teens. It's so fucking unnerving. The cold is like a clingy ex-girlfriend - no matter how you try to shake it off, it always gets under your clothes, touching you in unwanted places, upsetting the balance you've created for yourself. The cold is an enemy, a necessary evil, but necessary for whom? If the cold is so necessary, how come the rainforests thrive (or would without human intervention)? Presumably they have cycles too, seasons with life and death for plants and animals, but they don't get cold. I shouldn't have to wear more than 2 fucking layers, November or no. It's so much more satisfying ( to walk in from the heat ouside to an air-conditioned building/room than it is to come in from the cold to a heated room, not least because it's so much more immediate. You're not even promised that, anyway - so many buildings aren't properly heated, I sat in the Union this afternoon, and in the Arts Centre yesterday, and fucking froze. You can still drink hot drinks (tea, coffee, hot chocolate etc.) in hot climates, as evidenced by where chai comes from. Granted that being warm in bed when it's cold(ish) outside, but it's an acceptable casualty. Sweat>numbness, heat stroke>frostbite, heat>cold.
I also fucking hate snow. I've explained this many times in person, but I'll lay it out here, to stand eternal (probably Ozymandias-like) in data's annals. Snow is shit:
- It's cold, which I've already stated my reasons against.
- It's wet, in the wrong sort of context - wet is fine when you're going swimming, and dressed for the occasion, but wet when you're fully clothed AND cold, so that you're not going to dry any time soon, is bollocks, because it lingers and the cold gets under your skin.
- It makes everything look the same - "oooh look, isn't it all pretty and white?" No, it fucking well isn't. All the vibrancy of colour gets sapped out of the world, and you're left with this glossed over bullshit, like a pale (pun intended) attempt to make us examine the form of everything and the soul of nothing.
- It leaves sludge - when the snow is gone, what do you get? Browny black shit everywhere, sludging and slurping everywhere like snowmen with explosive diarrhoea fell from the sky and splattered all over the show, making it fucking impossible to drive, soaking your shoes and totally ruining what should have been the relief of getting all the colour back in the world.
- It produces snowballs - great, an excuse for all the wankers of the world to hit people in the face with compacted water, probably with a stone or two in there for good measure. Last year, I was walking from the Union back to halls when some cunts, who were driving around campus, lobbed a big snowball out their car window which hit me smack in the face. You can say I take myself too seriously (I don't think there is such thing anyway) but I fail to see how that's in the Christmas spirit, or in any spirit other than the one of fucking up other people's days.
I'd like to make clear at this point that I am NOT a Scrooge. I love Christmas, for many reasons, both right and wrong. It's just the fucking weather I can't stand. Christmas on a beach somewhere in the southern hemisphere (so it owuld be the height of summer), with sand instead of snow, now that would be perfect. You can celebrate Jesus' birth without putting yourself through the same fucking conditions that he had to endure. After all, we don't go crucifying ourselves for Easter. It's just the mass delusion that snow is this awesome thing that makes Christmas perfect - if you like snow so much, go to the fucking alps. I say bring on global warming (there's at least one theory that says, despite losing the warm currents we have, Britain comes out of it a hell of a lot warmer than it went in). And yes, I know me telling other people to move when I could do the same holds a certain petulance, but I do intend to move, although sadly San Francisco isn't a whole lot warmer. And even when I'm rich and famous, I'll still have to spend Christmas with family (which is what it's really about), but that's only a week or so of the winter months. Otherwise, I'll spend the time somewhere blistering, like the desert...
In conclusion, fuck the cold, fuck snow and fuck you
(Disclaimer: last statement was added only for the sake of the tricolon, and applies only to Creationists, terrorists, Mother Teresa, George Bush, Man Utd and Liverpool fans, and those cunts who hit me with the snowball last year.)
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