My thoughts on the weatherman...

Dear Mr. Weatherman--
Screw you.  I am fed up to here with looking at you every night and having to suffer through you mocking me and telling me pretty little lies.  Telling me its going to get up into the 30's when in fact it does not.  Stop screwing with me.  I don't care if you get within three degrees of your forecasted number, especially if your number is less than twenty.  You still suck.

I'm sick to death of you getting excited about another big clipper system or an upper level low coming through.  None of your viewers care.  We're not laughing with you anymore.   Matter of fact, I did a survey in the neighborhood and I'm hard pressed to find someone to come to your defence.  They all want to string you up the school flag pole, naked, and see how long you last.  They'd bury you when they were done but the ground's too cold to get a spade in.

I'd feel much better if you just stuck to the truth and told me I'm going to freeze my little titties off till the end of March.  Then I'd get used to it.  I'd suffer through.  But no, you've been stringing me along for the past few months telling me lies.  You even told me that frigging rodent didn't see it's shadow and its going to warm up soon.  And I'm still cold.  And you still suck. 

I'm done with having to explain to my kids why the weatherman lies stretches the truth and how in our house white lies or lies by omission are lies none the less.  We have rules in our house and every night you break them with your deceptive trickery.  These lies are akin to criminal offences in our house which require standing in a corner for five minutes or a loss of computer time. 

My son wants to know if you loose computer time and if your mom puts you in a corner when you get home.  He is very upset by this and would like an answer. 

Because of all of this I have to break up with you.  I have to stop seeing you and subjecting myself to all of your petty lies and tomfoolery.  Your recent bomb of a winter weather advisory for today was the final straw.  We're over.  Finished.  Through.  And you still suck. 



My thoughts exactly.