The weather is getting colder, and I, for one, am getting more miserable.
I don’t particularly think it’s due to Seasonal Affective Disorder and it’s oh-so-fitting acronym, but perhaps it is. I have my reasons for hating cold weather. Hear me out and judge for yourselves.
There is nothing that makes me happier than going outside in short sleeves and being completely comfortable, and with winter, obviously, I can’t do that. I have to trade in my T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops for a parka, thermal underwear and snowshoes.
I have to layer my clothing so I’m comfortable on the way to class, then remove it all (or most of it, due to university rules about nudity) once I’m actually in the class. This upsets me very much. In fact, I can’t wait for global warming. Sure, catastrophes will happen across the globe. But I will be warm. Yes, I’m selfish. (No, I don’t care.)
There is no baseball. All right, I realize baseball has been replaced by football as our national pastime. I’m fine with that, but once again, I’m going to be completely selfish and put my needs above everyone else’s.
One of my basic, vital necessities is baseball. I need the Mets and those hustling youngsters to brighten up my life. Of course, I still have football to get me through the winter. But if you’ve seen Eli Manning and the Giants play recently, you would realize that this is not comforting. It’s terrifying. And no, I still don’t care about Donovan McNabb, maimed or not.
People also make the worst small talk during the winter. Nothing beats standing next to someone in line to get into the ATM kiosk on Liacouras Walk, utterly freezing to death, and having them turn to you and say, “Man, it’s cold out.” Yeah, you think? I hadn’t realized. Actually, I wore this dumb hat with a poofball and ear flaps because I think it’s fashionable, not because it’s 8 degrees outside.
Weather small-talkers are bad, bad people. Please avoid me if this describes you. Of course, if I already know you, then this is OK. I don’t mind it as much because it’s not as creepy.
It’s too cold to bike-ride, play football or perform one of countless other outdoor activities. Sure, video games are lifelike enough to fool me for several days, but it just isn’t the same. I want to go outside and get yelled at on my bike for holding up traffic, or get my football stolen, or have my Frisbee go down a drainage ditch.
These things, while not too good, are certainly better than the alternative: sitting on my hands for five months waiting for semi-warmth to return. And, for those of you saying, “Well, gee whiz Mike, you don’t get your football stolen in video games”: Just leave me alone. A television screen is no substitute for the sun.
The girls don’t look nearly as good as they do in summer. Miniskirts and tube-tops are replaced with baggy, less form-fitting clothes.
It’s a complete 180 from the greatest day in the world, which is obviously the first warm day of spring. Every guy in the world can pretend with their girlfriends that they don’t know what I’m talking about, but deep down, we all know how fantastic that day is.
Girls try to out-strip each other, and most succeed with astonishing results. Winter is a complete end to the flesh-fest, and this is also sad to me. Oh well, I think I can deal with this one.
But the worst part about winter – and color me SAD – is that one person you know who loves the weather. He or she will step outside, take a deep breath and exclaim how lovely the day is, while I’m shivering uncontrollably and wondering what shade of blue my lips are turning. I hate that kid. You know who you are. You make the cold weather worse.
Mike Gleeson can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.