I wish I could punch sleep. Slap it around, show it who's boss. Judo chop to jumping sheep.
And cold weather. I hate cold weather. I like "light jacket" weather. Maybe because I really like my light jacket. It fits as a nice second skin. But fuck you, cold weather. You are my enemy.
This is what I really want. I want a fighting chance against cold weather. I don't find it fair that I don't have any sort of say in the outcome of the temperature. If I could get into a boxing ring, go 12 round, have some judges, and then the winner declares whether it'll be partially cloudy or warm as a baby's bottom.
That, friend, is fair. I would really like that. Maybe you would, too. Unless, of course, you like cold weather, and if that's the case, maybe I'll punch you too.
Ohio had a terrible storm on Sunday. People died. I was more fortunate. The only thing I got was ten small dents on my car, thanks to hail the size of human brains.
I couldn't do anything but stand in my back porch and watch these brains pound my car to death. I swear to god that would have never of happened if I could have gone one on one with mother nature.
I'll find a way.