Polar Vortex

Winter, More Like Looster

It won’t stop, guys. It just keeps coming. And coming. And falling. And chilling the bones. My blood is warm, but barely. When the day begins, I kiss my wife goodbye as she leaves for work, and I kiss her hard knowing either one of us may be later found frozen in a parking-lot ice-block.

My friend asked me, the one who Skypes from the West, how the weather has been. My answer lasted for ten minutes, and it sounded like this:

“Every week there’s this new storm. It sounds great because storms only last for two or so days. So you think, hey, alright! We just have to make it through this storm. And then, there’s another storm. Another freak wind tunnel. Another polar vortex. And you start thinking, why the Hell are we doing this to ourselves?”

My friend’s eyes wide, I decided to cool off: “How have you been?” (more…)

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Five Life-Lessons the Polar Vortex Taught Me

Rochester has been cold. Very cold. The East, it would seem, was sprayed by Mr. Freeze’s Ice Gun. You’ve probably heard about it or have experienced the frigidness yourself. It’s my first East Coast winter and, well, it’s living up to its reputation.

A coworker mentioned (and you never know how true these things are) that, right now, ten minutes of exposed skin will earn you frost bite. I’m not sure what frost bite is, but it sounds delicious. They don’t sell those in California.

Here’s five life-lessons I’ve learned from living through the Polar Vortex, or as I like to call it, “The Unholy Coldy”

1. Cuss Creatively: If caught outside, unique cussing patterns can keep your brain functioning and from freezing over. Some of my favorites from the other day include, Butt-Face-Twinkie-Stealer!; Alabama-Harp-Farter!; and Mr. Bojangles, the Asshole.

2. Park Near the Entrance: I usually park far away; it saves time and I don’t mind walking. However, the other night I parked on the far end of the grocery store’s lot. By the time I reached the store, I had to borrow an ice scraper for all the frozen tear drops on my face.

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