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Snow humping ski junkies. |
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Well, given that it’s nearly time for my 22 year evaluation I feel a bit like I should take stock of my life, where I am, where I want to be, all that crap. But considering all I feel when I think about the future is a sort of dread about all the things that I ‘still haven’t done and will probably never do because I am a lazy a**’, so I try to avoid thinking about it for long periods of time without the aid of alcohol to prevent the soul crushing reconciliation of reality with how I wish the world and more specifically, my life, could be.
But let’s not dwell on my chronic depression because with the right medication, even I don’t dwell on it and instead focus on what really matters, like whatever shiny object or video game that has managed to capture my attention for a period of longer than five seconds. Some things however, cannot be ignored, like the fact that the sun manages to rise every damn day at an hour I find wholly unacceptable, or that it is winter. Winter is a time of year that I hate without equal, summer might be a hot, sweaty pain in the a** but at least I can book off vacation time and go somewhere where being a hot, sweaty pain in the a** isn’t only enjoyable, but something you pay for. Winter however is just a cold, desolate and hate filled half of the year. Wait, you might be saying, winter doesn’t last for half of the year, to which I will say, ‘******** you I live in Canada and it damn well does’. If you require more of an explanation as to my hate than the fact that I dislike the cold and I live in Canada in winter, well, you might want to have your I.Q. checked as soon as possible because I’m pretty sure you’re eligible for some tax breaks. Winter in Canada is snow punctuated upon by even more snow and the lingering notion that you might have just parked your car where that giant snowdrift is, along with the continual despair that some people like to call S.A.D (seasonal affective disorder) and I just call cheer the ******** up you sorry idiot.
Now wait a moment, mightn’t I be affected by this S.A.D, well sorry to burst your bubble, but no. Some people just generally dislike winter and cold weather and it doesn’t matter how much you snow humping ski junkies sing out its praises, I will still be a miserable sorry S.O.B. (if you don’t know what that is then you’re eligible for even more tax breaks than originally anticipated). And yes, to answer the question none of you have the balls to ask, the chip on my shoulder does cast a shadow. Also, don’t try to pull that ‘there’s a winter sport for everyone’ bull crap with me, because there isn’t. The closest thing I have to a winter sport is staying inside the damned ski lodge and drinking until the snow bunnies start to sound like they might actually have two brain cells to rub together. Never mind the fact that I seem to be the only person who isn’t trying to either get laid or for the rest of my ******** tour group to show up and I end up having to answer the questions of a busload of foreign teenagers like I’m employed at the goddamned information desk. More importantly, if the information desk is spelled out clearly in at least five different languages, why is it never one these teenagers seem to speak?
I have skied before, in moments of unbridled stupidity where I fool myself into thinking that it can’t possibly be as terrible and horrifying as I remember it, but I assure you, it is. Nothing spells out ‘death wish’ quite like hurtling down a mountain with a pair of sticks strapped to your feet, your visibility next to nothing due to the fact that your head had been wrapped up in hats and goggles that don’t fit and scarves which, let’s face it, only ever get in the way of everything. My memories of skiing are blurry, probably due to the head trauma that seems to occur every time I allow myself to be dragged onto a mountain, kicking and cursing, I might add. Yet somehow I let myself be talked into it, probably because someone finds me as I’m surrounded by foreign teenagers, nursing my drink and trying to extricate myself without resorting to physical violence.
So as it stands I’ve allowed myself to be talked into attending a ski trip with my coworkers, because the alternative is actually working and I know I’ll somehow be dragged onto the slops against my better, if slightly impaired judgement. This time I’ll be viewing the events with yet another years worth of cynicism added onto my sparkling personality but my thoughts when I reach the top of the mountain will be the exact same thoughts I’ve have every time before. [********]
 Neutiquam_Erro · Thu Jan 13, 2011 @ 02:02am · 0 Comments |
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