Blessed Ostara, peeps! (aka F*CK OFF, WINTER!)

Blessed Ostara, peeps. In other words, HAPPY SPRING!

Dear Winter,

Now then, Winter. Take a hint. Go away. We’re looking for some time apart, Chilly Weather. Need a break. It’s not you, it’s m–wait, no, it’s TOTALLY you, Winter. You are one farked-up, psycho cunt lately, and frankly, we’re sick of you. Go take your meds, you stupid season, and get back to us next year AFTER you’ve had a, heh, cooling off period, as it were.

It’s not that we don’t <3 you hard, Winter, but seriously? You are being boiled-bunny bitchy, and we’re tired of it. A few chilly days are great. Even snow (up north, not down here in Florida, ktxsbai!) ONCE in a while is okay.

But…seriously? You ground Atlanta to a friggin’ halt, for chrissake, and that usually takes, you know, zombie apocalypses to accomplish that.

I think you need counseling. I really do. Maybe a daily dose of Xanax to level out your moods. Because, day-amn, you are seriously off the chain in terms of identity right now.

It’s SPRING, Winter. Spring. You have to learn to let go. Your over-attachment disorder to us was an amusing anomaly at first. Now? Well, we’re ready to call the chaps with the white coats and the butterfly nets to haul your ass off for a well-deserved Thorazine drop.

Call us this December. If we hear from you before then, we will get a restraining order against your ass and have you thrown in jail for contempt of court if you violate it. Don’t think we won’t.

Love,
Us.