Wait, where’d my nuts go?

Here’s a special bonus Things We Hate I wrote in my head while walking to my car yesterday after work. Enjoy.

As I trudged toward my car four blocks away after work yesterday, no longer parked at the godforsaken Greyhound bus station (Thank God), with the snow pummeling my face, my head bundled up like some oppressed Middle Eastern woman, and my hands full of weird prizes from winning my company’s ugly sweater contest, all I could think about was this quote from Hugh Hefner that I read in Esquire last year: “There isn’t a whole lot of point to living half the year in a lousy climate.”

The words circled in my head as I trudged through below-zero temperatures, even frostier wind chills, and snow that looked more like nuclear fallout than the delightful rooftop compliment portrayed by that menace Thomas Kincade. My forehead ached from the cold, my tender, cold-ridden nose burned from the wind, and my beleaguered salt-stained chinos looked like they belonged to Willy Loman after yet another unsuccessful sales trip. Hugh fucking Hefner, man.

This is a man from Chicago, which gives him better lousy climate ethos than virtually anyone outside of Alaska. He now lives in Southern California where experiencing “bad weather” is akin to getting a mild brain freeze from sipping your daiquiri through a straw a bit too quickly. Maybe there’s more to this Hefner guy than just all the decadent parties and rampant sex… Besides, it was fucking -16 degrees yesterday. It could have been Kim buttfucking Kardashian who made that point above and it would have sounded brilliant. Anything of that sort sounds brilliant when your snot freezes.

edagger@crujonessociety.com

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