Tag Archives: blizzard

Blizzard Bazaar

It was winter over here at my igloo as well.

I don’t have anything else to say about that apart from “Very Strong Rum”.

Today I played hooky from LegalHut and finished a painting. I also shoveled and had a chicken sandwich. Finally, I put on some pants because we were having an Open House at my house, looking for a potential new roommate. And I want them to think I am the sort of person who wears pants. Hoo boy, the parade! My favorite candidate described our living room as “wild”, and one of the others broke a cardinal rule by sporting such as culottes. There was a pretty nice boy who is studying to be a Masseur, and the less I say about that the better. Just to make sure that we find the best possible fit, I have placed a new ad here.


Hydrogenated States of America

I spent last week miserably ill, but Mr. H coaxed me out on Saturday with the promise that there would be many fat people at the supermarket. The things people put in their carts! I marvel at this on a normal day, but the day before Storm of the Century AND a playoff game? Unspeakable. We got into the spirit by running up and down the aisles grabbing things we didn’t need. Organic pizza bites! Twinkies! Crab dip!

In the midst of a fever, I must have agreed to let Mr. H get a new camera, because he came home with one later that day, all “Ma,canIkeepit,therewasarebate,pleaseplease.” Thus he was able to document Storm of the Century most handily. At this rate, each photo he took only cost us $43. Here are several.

Going outside in the winter is something I try not to do. I found myself costumed in a jacket from a short-lived stab at snowboarding years ago, with yoga pants tucked into a pair of asymmetrical Camper knee boots and oven mitts on my hands. I started shoveling, but then, as Melvin would say, “J’ai éprouvé un sentiment insupportable d’inutilité.” I gave up and crawled in through the trunk and backed out. The snow just stayed on top of the roof and hood, molded as if Gaudí himself shat it there. Then Mr. Plow came, and I went in for a drink.

Death from above. There is no reason to go outside.

Sunset, tower window. These are secret messages, saying that I should eat a Twinkie.