A poem to bitterly cold weather
Oh the weather outside is frikkin' cold
Making the walk from my car to the building is less than delightful
I am glad I am not a toad
Living outside would be frightful
The weather makes my feel bitter and cold
just like your mother
With that said before we are too old
I am going to tell everyone you went to prom with your brother!
Merry frikkin Christmas
with more than a little sass.
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About Me
- Liz Schulte's Blog
- I am a Scorpio. I enjoy long walks on the beach, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and men in hockey masks. In my spare time I work to foil the plans of my arch nemesis, utilize my eight finger discount, and lecture from my soapbox about social injustices. I do not tolerate fools or like people who make Walmart plural. I judge people who are missing more teeth than they have, unless they are old. I would like to someday be the scary old woman in the neighborhood that all the children are afraid of, however I will be misunderstood and actually a sweet old lady turned bitter by the disappointments of this cruel, cruel life. I will have made my vast wealth telling fortunes under the alias the Mad Madame Mim and selling t-shirts in tourist destinations that say “Life isn’t always flowers and sausages”.
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2 comments:
There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning.
- R.D.
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