Things I Want To Burn

lady-gaga-on-fireWelp, woke up to ANOTHER four inches of snow. You know, this time last year, if we got four inches of snow, I would have battened down the hatches and worked from the comfort of my own couch. Now dredging through mountains of snow and ice skating over the side walks of the inconsiderate who refuse to shovel their property, which is now a sheet of ice, is second nature.

With all of that being said, I’m over winter. Clearly. I mean you would have to be mad to think otherwise. And as badly as I want to light fire to my winter gear, I cannot. So the second best option is to list the things I would really enjoy burning, right?

1. Hunter Boots: Love you and all, but having to lug around a second pair of shoes so I can take you off and switch into the second pair at work is not fun. I don’t want to wear my cute shoes JUST at work, I want to wear them everywhere. Yet because of you, I can’t. But thanks for keeping my feet warm and taking the beating of ugly slush piles, ice, and snow mounds. I would be lost without you, but we need a break.

2. Sweaters: You are cute, you are snuggly … but you make me feel like I can eat and drink whatever I please because you will cover up all of my giggly bits. And now I’ve gained weight, because of your illusionist ways. Sometimes wearing non-baggy and thick (ew I loathe that word) items makes you realize, “hey … I can’t eat a loaf of bread and then chase it down with five candy bars,” (not that I do that, I swear). Just sayin’ …

3. My Over-The-Knee Boots: When I refuse to wear my Hunter Boots because I’m sick of them, like a moron, I open my over-the-knee boots to a world of pain from all of the natural elements out there. Salt is a bitch, let me tell you. Sometimes I would rather ice skate over side walks then open my boots up to the pain and suffering they will undergo due to the harshness of salt.

4. Pants: My legs need to breath, man. They need to see the light of day! I haven’t even looked at my bare legs in weeks because I’m terrified I will go blind from the paleness. Pants are so constricting, right? I dream of a day when I can just slip on a maxi or skirt and frolic … only after a spray tan of course. No one needs to see my legs in the condition they are now. They are stark white, dry as hell … and maybe, JUST maybe, a little hairy #lazygirlsguidetowinter

5. Socks: One of each pair have been sucked into the vortex that exists between the washing machine and the dryer. I literally cringe when I think about taking my shoes off in front of strangers because they will be faced with one foot draped in a cat-style sock, and the other in a santa-inspired sock.

Ahhh I feel better, thanks for letting me vent, guys.

Me Want Snacks

Screen shot 2014-02-03 at 6.24.09 PMI’m not a foodie, in fact I’m more of a plain jane. Rarely do I ever eat anything but chicken, and I usually eat hoagies dry with like NOTHING on them. I’ve always been like this … I think because certain things just skeeve me out to the core … like mayo … vom. It’s unnatural.

With that being said, the East Coast is getting bitched slapped by Mother Nature’s icy cold hand. I mean for the love, I find myself watching the news all day long as I work from home with drool hanging out of my mouth … even though they are repeating the same things over and over again. Oh my God a car is stuck, oh my God traffic, oh my God it’s snowing.

But with snow days comes one thing I just adore. Snacks. Endless and endless amounts of delish snacks. I don’t know about you, but when I’m trapped indoors as inches and inches of powder falls from the sky, all I have interest in doing is eating. I have no idea why because I’m usually not like this. Like I said, I’m a very picky eater. But literally I cannot get full. I try really hard, it just never happens. But only when it snows. Otherwise I swear I’m a somewhat health-conscious human being.

As I’m sitting here typing after scarfing down like six mini spinach cups made from Pillsbury dough (I mean, heaven), I’m thinking about what will be next and if I should accompany it with a glass of wine, and my body really just wants to separate itself and smack me senseless. My stomach is saying, “give me more deliciousness,” but other parts of me are like, oh I don’t know my ass, thighs, liver, and … yep all of my muscles, are saying, “bitch go outside, get some fresh air and tighten this shit up, for the love of God. Water and veggies, water and veggies.”

I’m craving spring. I’m craving a time where I no longer sit on my couch working because it’s too cold to go outside and public transportation is unreliable, watching snow fall as I listen to meteorologist’s who have no idea what is going on interview Joe Shmoe’s about how they shovel their driveways. Riveting. I’m craving weather that makes me want to run outside and get my muscles moving besides the ones in my face as I chew. I’m craving tight and short dresses that will make me not want to eat snacks and instead live on veggies and water like my body wants.

I feel gross. With that being said … I have something delicious in the oven I need to check up on. Snacks.