I'm going to punch every snowflake in the face

Tuesday, March 8th, in the year of Our Lord 2011

Snow is obviously sent from Hell.  I fail to believe that the Snow Miser is up to no good, because his songs are too catchy to convince me otherwise. 

Everyone!  "Friends call me Snow Miser, what ever I touch, turns to snow in my clutch,
I'm too much!  BA-DA-DA-DUM!  TOO MUCH!"

It's March.  That's the month when Spring decides to peek its scaredy-cat head out from under the covers and melt some shit.  That's the month when I can puke up green-colored vomit and the people around me yell, "WAY TO BE IRISH!"  That's the month where I can also flash crowds for beads, but discover people in Wisconsin do not celebrate Mardi Gras like they do down South. 

Those kids in the background will be forever scarred for life.

March does not mean snow storms.  But, since God has decided to hate on Wisconsin this year (we won the fucking Superbowl, Old Man!  GIVE US A BREAK!  What more do you want from us?!) 



Real funny, God.  Real fucking funny.
God also hates Scott Walker.
True fact.



When I'm snowed in this weekend, please think of me.  I'll be thinking about ways to cook my roommate because I'm running out of food.  It'll be like the Donner Party, minus the Rocky Mountains and minus dying in the snow.  I'll play "Oregon Trail" to get the real perspective of "forging the Western plain."

Already?  All I did was copy and paste this!  I hate this game!



My friends and I have come down to our last straws with the crazy weather.  When I got back from swimming this morning, my roommate Brooke asked me what the weather was like outside.

Me:  "Well.  My hair didn't freeze, but I did slip on the ice.  You can't see your breath when you breathe.  I kept my hands outside my pockets the entire walk back from the pool."

Brooke:  "So it's higher than 20 degrees out."

Me:  "Gorgeous."

Brooke:  "I'll only wear two layers to work today."

UWSP is renovating the HEC, or for you non-UWSP folk, the Health Enhancement Center.  It's right across the street from my dorm and that's where the pool is.  The hallway that usually leads straight to the pool is closed, since that's where they're doing the construction.  I had to traverse the innards of the HEC building. 

Pretty much what the rest of the hallways look like.
That's no "light at the end of the hallway."
That's a rapist trap.

Like always, the pool was freezing.  I should come up with an acronym for that so I don't always have to type that out.  TPWF.  Does that even make sense?

I don't know why they don't invest in XM Radio at the pool.  I hate morning talk-shows.  I don't care what 14% of Facebook users have on their profile!  [A/N: For the record, I was underwater when they revealed the answer.  The world will never know...]  I don't care about celebrity birthdays, especially when half of them are old enough to remember going to the "talkies" for the first time and calling Charlie Chaplin one of People's "World's Most Beautiful People."

I can see the appeal.  It's really the eyes that speak to me.
OH GOD.  WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE I'M BURNING FROM THE INSIDE OUT?!
THE EYES!  IT'S THE EYES!

What really killed me; literally, I cramped up today and nearly drowned.  No, it's okay girl lifeguards.  I don't need your help at all.  I usually flail around in the middle of a lane and groan loudly as I try to extend my leg.  Sorry to have interrupted your conversation about fucking Jersey Shore or some stupid shit like that. 

A fucking bear outranks me? 
What...?

What killed me was a phone interview the radio station in Point did with Josh Groban on Friday.  They replayed one of the stupidest parts of the interview today and then spent 10 minutes discussing how "awesome it was to talk to the real-life Josh Groban."

I didn't know there was a fake Josh Groban. 

"Can you tell me again why I'm calling some dinky radio station in Wisconsin?
...I'm being paid HOW much?  I really need to get a new manager."

They discussed if the Resch Center in Green Bay (where he'll be performing in like, June) which holds 10,000 people is considered "intimate", compared to Madison Square Garden, which holds like...a billion.  Wow.  That's sooo interesting, Stacy from 95.5!  I'm glad you took precious minutes out of Josh Groban's oh-so busy day to talk about that!

Dear Resch Center,
Take out those chairs and let me see some hockey players get body-slammed
into the walls.  No one wants to watch Jeff Dunham perform here again.
Love, Me.



I finished up my 60 laps [A/N: I might've done more, but I lost track after number 4...F.  My brain was oozing out of my ear by then] and shuffled into the freezing cold locker room.  Oh, I'm sorry, I mean the FCLR. 

I left the HEC to the beautiful sounds of a poor football rookie throwing up after suicides in the Quandt Gym outside into the snow.  That's always a great way to start my day.

I apologize for this image.  Google Image magically appeared in my browser
and my fingers began typing "puking in snow" like they were possessed by a demon.

You know who else loves puke?  Daniel Fucking Tosh.

Told you.

I'm currently obsessed with this genius.  Tosh.0 is my favorite show on television.  I nearly peed myself in happiness when I watched his newest special, Happy Thoughts.  Thank God Comedy Central discovered that Tosh is pure gold and gave him his own show.  I think Tosh.0 single-handedly saved Comedy Central from certain doom.  Not that I don't adore the other shows on the "CC"; The Daily Show and The Colbert Report are the only news sources I trust. 

These two should run for President/Vice President.
They already have my vote.



Tosh is now a proud member of my Love Lair Occupants List, or LLOL.  He joins the ranks of Robert Downey, Jr., Christian Bale, Colin Firth, Robert Pattinson (shut your mouth, Candace!  Give me this one!), Brad Pitt, David Boreanaz, Jude Law...just to name a few.  The LLOL may need its own post.

"FREE DOUGHNUTS!"