influx of the dreaded black jogging outfit

what it's like here:

this has been a rather lazy saturday afternoon, filled with donut-fetching, coffee, banks, aimlessly driving around listening to the white stripes, and enjoying the sun. i remarked to someone recently that it feels like i'm losing track of the seasons--i don't think it's really sunk in yet that this is february.

but my midwestern cohorts are keeping me apprised of snowpacalypse 2010: so far the count is 24 inches of snow, bringing 2 hopelessly stuck cars, a sheared-off drivers side mirror, and icicles in gutters that could be used as deadly weapons.

what it's like there:

i don't miss this shit.

being in magical sunny fucking fairyland while the rest of my friends are struggling to excavate their cars everyday (let alone keep from falling on their asses) makes me a firm believer that adverse weather/climate creates camraderie among people. no, i'm not high. but having to deal with the ridiculousness of awful weather brings people together because *everyone* has to constantly deal with it. your car stuck in your driveway? someone will stop, pull out whatever traction they might have in their trunk, and help you shlep your car out. people are in general more hospitable towards one another, and the first day of warm, luscious 50 degree weather after weeks of sub-zero temps puts *everyone* in a great fucking mood.

on the other hand, when you live somewhere where it's beautiful, warm and sunny all the time, there's no change, nothing to subtly bring people together. there's no reason for people to think about others, which can manifest itself in extremely douchey ways.

speaking of douchey things, i must have missed the memo about wearing your black tracksuit today. i can only conclude that there must have been a ridiculous sale on them; because by Jebus every fucking soccer-mom housewife was sporting one today, everywhere i went. aren't they supposed to be out of fashion by *now*???

*sigh*

MEMO: seriously ladies, unless you're actually working out, go put on some real fucking pants. i managed to find a pair of jeans that weren't too dirty today, i'm sure you can do the same. and NO, getting starbucks doesn't count as exercise.

there, rant over.

dear california,you get +1 for weather... and -1 for not knowing what real clothing is.