Groundhog Birthday
I think it’s going to be a good year. Every year on my birthday (which is today) I pop my head out the window. If there’s snow on the ground, it’s going to suck. If not then we’re ready to rock. If it’s warm enough outside that the girl’s will be wearing their mini-skirts out to the clubs, then woohoo for global warming!!!
My hatred for snow is pretty deep. I live in Montreal, so I have to deal with snow for a few months every year. My father was militant about his driveway. Whenever it snowed I had to shovel it down to withing a millimeter so that when the sun decided to poke it’s bastard head out of the clouds, whatever was left would melt. On a street with uniformly white driveways, ours was always jet black.
This dislike of frosted precipitation is such that I could poke my head out of the window and see a tornado, and go, “Alright…no snow. So…does anybody have any shelter?”
I’m another year older. 25 birthdays have come, and yet I still haven’t gotten over my childish antics. Welcome ot my groundhog birthday.
