The armpit of the U.S.

First point: why don't beer makers ALWAYS use 16 ounce cans? Are they afraid I might waste the extra 4 ounces?? I won't. The big cans mean I have to get up less. I don't know why a 12 oz. can feels like a tablespoon of beer, compared with a 12 oz. bottle. But it does. Cans sound WAY better on recycling day, but I swear I take one drink out of a can and think, where did my beer go?? I love the 16 oz can. Just love it. I'm Irish, if this explains anything. 

My second point: I have become convinced, that all the history about the white man pushing the native Americans out of northwest Indiana are FALSE. The white man did no such thing. The native Americans that didn't die from exposure, or weren't buried alive in a snow drift, said-you want it? Fucking take it. Good luck. 

This place is hell. It's not just the armpit if Indiana, it's the armpit of the country. Parts of it smell. Bad. It's always got some kind of moisture of one kind or another. Frozen or vaporized. There is no in between. It's a moist, smelly place. I can deal with summer moist. I actually like walking outside and being punched in the face by ten pounds of 90 degree air. Because the alternative is walking outside and being bitch slapped by a stiff north wind carrying millions of little  moisture swords. I like going outside when it's 92 degrees, with 90% humidity, to pull weeds. When night comes, I stink, I'm covered in salt, there's dirt in every wrinkle on my body, and it's awesome. Take a shower, grab a beer, sit on the deck. Exhausted bliss. There's no bliss with the alternative.  Yes, snow looks pretty when it's glistening in the trees. But it's white. If snow were rainbow colored, I might have a different opinion. But it's not. It's white. Until the road salt comes out, and then everything just looks filthy and skid row like. Dirty ick. There's no way the Indians wanted this place. First couple rounds with lake effect snow, and they said fuck. Fuck the evil spirits breath. We gotta go west. Now they try and make us feel bad. Psh. Scammers. 

A lot of things.

Infomercials will most definitely be shown on high tv. The really ridiculous ones. Billy Mayes shit. The one for the hand held sewing machine, that shows a woman trying to hold up a real sewing machine to fix her curtains. While they're still hanging. Doh! Or for the pot with the lid that has holes in it. Her family is all seated at the table waiting for dinner, and she goes to drain the pasta and dumps it all in the sink. Her family disapproves. She's the worst woman ever UNTIL she gets the holey pot. Then her family loves and appreciated her. A miracle! They should call it the holy pot. 

Speaking of holy pot, husband read that 37 people died of marijuana overdose on the first day of sale in Colorado. Which means the anti-pot community is just getting desperate with their advertising. No one dies from pot. You may have to remind yourself to breath from time to time, but that's only because you are hyper aware of the fact that you are already breathing! They need to get the reefer madness production team out of the drawing room. The only reason they don't like pot is because they've never tried it. Or because they did once, but it was laced with pcp, then they flipped a Volkswagen upside down and punched a cop. While I can definitely see why that would suck, no one is trying to legalize pcp. That would be retarded. 

Which brings me to my final topic: snow. White, glorious, devil in disguise, fucking snow. I hate snow. I hate cold. I need to live somewhere that I can have as little clothes on as possible. And fuck shoes. I couldn't leave the house, today. And I won't be able to leave for two days because our culdesac  has a drift in it that could sink the titanic. And then there's the wind chill. Go outside for 15 minutes, and they'll have to amputate your face. If husband had a heart attack right now, an ambulance wouldn't be able to get to our house. Wait a minute.....

No. No! I would totally shove a bottle of aspirin down his throat until they arrived. Two days from now. Juuuuuust trying to help. 

Anyway, I fucking hate snow. I love sledding, for the 5 seconds you're going down the hill. It's awesome! Unless it's super powdery snow, and you're in the front of the sled. Then you look like Santa Claus when you finally stop. Hope it's not because of a tree, or patch of bushes, because sleds have a mind of their own. I don't think they like us sitting on their backs and smashing them in snow. So they try to kill us, by suddenly turning towards the giant pile of dead tree limbs. Or at least poke our eye in. After all that fun, you have to go back UP. Carrying an awkward sled. And mother fuck if it slips out of your hand when you're halfway up the goddamn hill. Weeeeeeee all the way down it goes. Fucking great. Like my thighs weren't burning enough from mountain climbing in Herman Munster boots. And then there's the snot. The never ending snot. Shoot all the snot rockets you want, do the best cleanup job you can with your glove, you're still going to look like a snail in heat molested your face. AND sledding is dangerous. Me and Amis stole someone's old fashioned metal and wood sled , and took it to the biggest hill on the golf course. We didn't see that there was a little golf cart road going thru the middle of the hill...until right before the iron runners of the sled hit it. Sled stopped dead. Not us. We went much further. I thought I broke my arm, I was stuck in an orange green protecting fence. We were both fine. But I laughed so hard I pissed myself. You have too many clothes on for that nonsense. My pants could've frozen, and then I'd have to have a frostbit labia removed. Then people would start calling me one lip slick or something. And my feelings would be hurt. So people, please, don't allow yourself to be pulled in by the cool image of sledding. Fight that peer pressure! Sledding is dangerous, and it kills. 

(This message brought to you by the Anti-Marijuana Coalition of America) (who also now is against snow, specifically enjoying snow) (AMCA-ASSES) (.com)