Thursday, February 05, 2009

Fighting against February.

I'm not giving in to her this year. Screw you, February, you mean nothing to me. You may as well be March, for all I care.

February is like that party guest that you invite, but are really hoping is busy or out of town. But then she's not, and she comes and is passive-aggressively needy and ends up making your other guests feel uncomfortable as she talks about her cat and that guy at work that may or may not be eating her food out of the refrigerator. And then she (Feb) insists on helping a bunch in the kitchen, where all the fun people are hanging out and drinking wine, but whenever someone sloshes a little on the counter she hustles over to wipe it up with a stinky dishrag... you get the point. February is that girl.

So what do you do with a guest like this? You hide from her and make jokes about her stanky cat and when she finds you to tell you that someone has clogged the toilet, you ignore her and turn up the music really loud until everyone is dancing and spilling wine and tipping over the coffee table and she can't keep up with her dirty dish-rag and her tsk-tsking, so she just sits in the corner nursing her tepid chardonnay until she realizes everyone is wandering into the bedrooms to hook-up or pass out and she leaves. So here's to you February!

And if that doesn't work...


Anonymous clickmom said...

I'm totally digging Michael Franti. I think I might know February. She lives on my block.

2/05/2009 4:39 PM  
Anonymous apathy lounge said...

Maybe that's my problem, Mignon. Fucking February. Except for my husband's's dead to me.

2/08/2009 4:52 PM  

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