Tag Archives: sun

Forecast: Sunny with a chance of jazz hands

There’s no polite way to say this, so I’ll just come out with it. I’ve developed unnatural annoyance towards the local weatherman. Let me explain the rationale I use to help me make this seem okay:

Forecast: Obnoxiously Sunny Disposition

While I’m all for enthusiasm, he is entirely too excited about his job —and natural disasters — and wants everyone else to be too. Whether he’s stuck outside in a blizzard with icicles forming from his snotty nose or simply flashing his jazz hands in front of a green screen, he’s entirely too spastic. A raindrop falls, graphs are drawn and excited overanalysis begins. 

Forecast: Flood of Hyperbole

He completely abuses his “Severe Weather” and “Breaking News” privileges.

party-cloudy-day-weather-disaster-seasonal-ecards-someecards

Yes, we get severe weather, but not every day. His hyperbole and penchant for overexcitement and exaggeration—actually using the phrase “Snowpacolypse” on multiple occasions —have left me indifferent to possible natural disasters. Until I hear sirens and a cow flies by my window, I will assume he’s simply meteorologically manic. Again.

Forecast: Cloudy Credibility

I understand he’s trying to predict the future, but he’s wrong quite often. In an effort to gain credibility, he will tell you to take an umbrella if it’s raining and wear a warm coat when it snows. We will then be inundated with station promos about how they “brought us the most accurate forecast” in the area.  My suggestion would be to focus on the forecast for 10 minutes from now, not 10 days, and stay humble. You don’t get bonus points for doing your job.

Forecast: Slightly Corny

I often feel like I’m watching bad stand-up and the annoying “filler” banter back and forth with the anchor borders on adolescent awkwardness.  Weather puns will be made. He will call her by some abbreviated form of her name and “Suze” will politely laugh while looking directly into the camera instead of at him. If it’s nice out, she’ll thank him for the nice day, to which he will reply, "You’re welcome", as if he had control of it.  They will laugh and laugh and laugh…

Forecast:  Condescension, not to be confused with condensation

Finally—and most importantly—he makes me feel like a social reject with absolutely no life (on this he’s only halfway right—as usual.) Every forecast is prefaced with something along the lines of, “If you’re getting ready to go out to dinner tonight” or “If you’re planning a picnic followed by a long walk on the beach tomorrow” etc. Never does he say, “If you’re planning on sitting on your couch in your yoga pants watching the ball game and writing a blog post while trying to find that piece of food you just dropped down your shirt,” plan on partly sunny skies.

Extended Forecast

Even with all that said, I still watch the weather, mostly because the weatherman has convinced me that I need to find out how the weather won’t be when I’m sitting on my couch in yoga pants watching the ball game and writing a blog post while trying to find that piece of food I just dropped down my shirt.

But I have started to switch to the Weather Channel and their “Local on the 8’s” instead. I usually don’t remember the forecast five minutes after I’ve watched it, but I know it will run again in 10 minutes and the music is catchy.

And catchy music means there’s a strong chance of an impromptu dance party in my living room—with jazz hands, of course.

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Bug Off

I’m basically solar powered, so when it’s nice outside, I’m either walking, working out in the yard or basking in the sun like a lizard on a heated rock.

This is my preferred location when it’s between 65-80 degrees. My hot and sexy male suntan applier is hiding out of this shot. 

And much like that amphibious analogy, I occasionally eat bugs—or they go up my nose. Not on purpose, mind you, but as an indirect result of talking or breathing while I do the aforementioned activities. Considering one of those things is rather necessary to survival (although I would argue that both of them are,) it really can’t be avoided.

Just because it can’t be avoided doesn’t mean it doesn’t still tick me off.

Although I know they serve a purpose, bugs suck—both literally and figuratively. Aside from flying up our noses or sneaking in our mouths, they suck the fun out of outdoor situations by sucking the blood out of our innocent souls, leaving us with un-itchable itchy bumps as a reminder of their intrusive visits to our flesh and our fun.

We use sprays, creams, zappers and Tiki torches with citronella oil in an effort to ward off their presence, yet we will still find ourselves cursing the little assholes as we scratch and claw at our bites.

mosquitoes

These bugs have balls.

They have no fear.

They laugh at us as we wave our arms around like crazy people and run around the yard with a 75-cent plastic fly swatter that’s about as effective as hitting a softball with a wet noodle.

But I refuse to let them win.

They will not stop me from a) breathing or b) talking, therefore running the risk of accidental consumption or a vacuuming up the nose.

I might not have balls and I might have irrational fears of weird things like sneezing while driving or developing an allergy to asparagus, but I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing—lighting torches and swatting at the little bastards, all the while reeking of DEET and frustration.

You’ve been warned, my flying friends, you’ve been warned.