New York weather: I hate you.
Last week you’re all, “Ooh come on outside, it’s warm and sunny. I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level and go on picnics and give you flowers. What? Winter? Oh, yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I was just depressed about the economy, I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I never want to hurt you again. Let’s hug and frolic and wear dresses and ride bikes!”
And so I did all those things only to find what today. It’s fucking cold as fuck! You asshole weather! And on the day of my big job interview when you knew damn well I don’t have any pants other than jeans and would have to wear a dress outside! You bastard! Make up your mind already!
To be honest, I’m not really surprised. This seems to happen every year around this time. We get this warm weather fake-out that makes you think it’s okay to put away your winter clothes and hesitantly break out the capris, but then as soon as you’ve managed to find your cool weather jacket, some nice frosty air and precipitation comes blowing up your skirt and ruins everything. I have a hard enough time dressing myself without having to worry about the possibility of dying from not maintaining a safe body temperature.
The cruel temperature fluctuations might not be so bad if every single store in the world didn’t start selling bikinis in January. C’mon!! It’s New York City and it’s four degrees outside! Even if it was summer, where the hell can you go swimming besides a (clean) beach which is hours away? Oh retail, how you taunt me with your shorts, and skorts, and blorts and whatever else dangles temptingly on those now brightly-colored displays but remains forbidden until the weather actually does become hospitable.
Today I went in Old Navy just for the fun of it (yeah I have a lot of free time) and for a moment thought my dreams had been realized when I spotted a yellow plastic raincoat on one of the racks, because ever since outgrowing the children’s section, I’ve desperately wanted an adult-sized plastic raincoat so I could wander in the rain without fear of becoming soaked and freezing. What a weird dream, one might say. Yeah it’s weird, so what? Wanna fight about it? The fact that it was yellow only furthered my personal fantasy of one day looking like this guy.
Swoon.
Unfortunately my income is still at $0 a month, and it’s still about 15 degrees outside, so sadly I left the raincoat on its rack to wait until I had some payola with which to buy it. I had also picked up a sickeningly bright chartreuse T-shirt that I wanted desperately, if only because it might help me to convince myself summer is just around the bend, or magically transport me to Fort Lauderdale, circa 1989. And it was like $10 obvy.
I’m sick and tired of this East Coast weather toying with my emotions. If I wasn’t afraid of Southern California because of what I’m sure is the inevitable pressure to “join the club” by bleaching one’s asshole, and the need to compete with women suffering from PSS, I might consider moving there just to escape the blue balls I’m getting from New York’s teasy weather, and finally be able to get rid of all my unflattering and itchy giant sweaters.
[dog picture from lovelypetfashion.com]
February 26th, 2009 at 1:28 am
Come to California!! It’s honestly blue skies here every day except on the mountain where it snows. Plus money grows on tress and everyone says ‘good day’ to you on the street.