Yeah it’s that time.

Time to bring on the bitching.

Time when I should be hanging up leaf garland and curling up with a hot cocoa but instead I am sweaty and sticking to my bloody tanktop.

The time jokingingly known as “autumn” in Shittsburgh.

I am sick.
Sick of wearing summer clothes.
Sick of eating summer food.
Sick of drinking summer drinks.
Sick of hearing summer sounds.
Sick of smelling summer smells.

And most of all, sick of hearing fuckwits say, “Oooohh…isn’t it nice and waarrrrrrmmmm today!  Better enjoy it, snow will be here soon enough!.”

Excuse me, but FUCK YOU.  Where the Sam FUCK do you live asshole, because it sure as hell isn’t this place!

Yeah, I know I say this crap every year and you’re sick of hearing it.  But you can’t be as sick of hearing it as I am of having to say it.   But I have to listen to the Sun retards whinge all winter long, so ‘eff em, I have rights.

I shall keep on with the pissing and moaning until somebody gets me out of this accursed state to someplace where I don’t have to spend every “fall” in a state of clinical depression.

2 Responses to “Sick”

  1. mom Says:

    I agree with you 100%. If you find that better place, take me with you.

  2. Wendy Says:

    If I hear one more person say “Indian Summer”, I will inflict bodily harm. I want fall dammit!

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