As he plummets temperatures into the single digits and throws a frigid white mantle on our homes, he's chain smoking and sneaking Old Granddad from his mother's liquor cabinet. In other words, he's kind of pissed.
This weekend we took the hellions to that chafe called "Sesame Street Live" with my sister and her family. As Mrs. P hands the parking lot attendant a $20 bill, the gentleman removes his glove. Winter immediately starts pummeling the poor man's digits with an ice mallet. As an emergency measure, the attendant puts his hand up to our sh*twagon's sputtering heater.
Mrs. P: Um.... Are your hands cold?
Parking Lot Guy: Mmnnnn.... Yeah. Everybody's paying with twenties.
Mrs. P: Oh... I'm sorry. I have a five, but I'm paying for the car behind me. Here..
Parking Lot Guy: Aw... Thanks. (Wiggles his fingers... hands Mrs. P her change.)
Mrs. P: You need some more?
Parking Lot Guy: Yeah, sure...
(She cranks the dial on the heater and adjusts the vent.)
Parking Lot Guy: Ohhhhhhhhhh.... Thanks.
Yeah. Winter's back, but a bit churlish. You might see him on Dr.