I’m Back and I Hate Chicago

It has been far too long since I have posted on this blog. I have many excuses, all legitmiate. For one, I dislocated my shoulder. That was a hoot and a half. Then I got the flu…in June. A June flu. Is there anything more ludicris?

But now I’m finally back to almost 100% hit points, which is nerd speak for health. And I’ve got the writing bug again. So I’m going to start contributing to this thing once more.

And what better way to return to the blogosphere than to air a complaint. That’s what the Internet is for after all, right? Anonymous grievances. Hell, there are whole Web sites devoted to people perpetually bitching about nothing but their own stupid ignornace. Click here for details.

I’m complaining about Chicago. The city that I once loved so dear, that has loved me seemingly unconditionally, even when I was flat ass broke and without a job the first year I called it my residence, has become a frigid beast that taunts me with summertime dreams but only delivers breezy, cloudy, soggy everlasting winter nightmares.

It’s June, and I’m still wearing my winter coat. It’s June, and I cannot ride the lake path. It’s June, and all I want to do is crawl under my covers and cry and masterbate and cry some more. There is no pleasure here. Only pain, specifically the pain of sharp 40-degree nails ripping my flesh from my bone and then chilling the bone so that you could stick a warm Diet Coke in my bone and drinketh of that Diet Coke and say, “Hey, that’s a pretty cold Diet Coke.”

Maybe it’s climate change. Maye this is the revenge Mother Nature hath wrought upon us for our greedy SUV, styrofoam cup, plastic this and that ways. We covered one too many McMansions in vinyl siding, and now I can’t sport one of my two bathing suits at the gay beach. Oh the humanity! Oh cruel forces of nature! Why have you turned against us? We didn’t mean to make you sick. We only strove to make our lives more convenient! Wasn’t our obesity punishment enough? Did you have to take away our summer too? Did you?

I sit here like a high school senior on prom night with a car that won’t start. Even if I find a pair of jumper cables, I’m going to miss half the damn thing anyway. Summer won’t stretch into October, unless it does, which it won’t. Instead, I’m bound to a fate of endless winter and perpetual ice cream eating. It’s the only thing that goes well with the taste of tears.


One response to “I’m Back and I Hate Chicago

  1. Amen, sister. I can’t wait for the day to be over so that I can jump out of the window at home. Jumping out of the window here at the office, though dramatic, is too risky for a failed attempt; fourth floor on Grand don’t cut it.

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