Tornados And My Being Terribly Whiny And Princess-y

Here’s the thing about me: I hate weather. Any weather that is more than, “No wind, 60°, clear blue skies.” Now, I realize this is a terrible complaint coming from a girl who has grown up and lived in California her entire life, so some of you may be all, “BITCH YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WEATHER.” You are probably from the East Coast and I’ll be the first to say that you are correct and I am a little baby. So, there. Now that we have that all sorted out, I can continue.

Weather. I hate it so much, I can almost feel the hatred seeping through my pores. Who are these people who live in areas with tornado warnings? WHO ARE YOU. HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT? I remember I was in Ohio once for a wedding and we were walking around town. Everything was fine, it was beautiful out. Then, all of a sudden, out of goddamn nowhere, it starts to torrential downpour and we hear on the radio there is a tornado warning. ASK ME WHAT SCARES ME THE MOST. JUST ASK ME.

YES. YOU GUESSED IT.

TORNADOS. EXCUSE MY FRENCH, BUT FUCK TORNADOS. FUCK ‘EM.

Okay. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. I live in California. No tornados here, Jamie. Calm down. CALM DOWN.

So, no tornados in San Francisco, which is good. But, you know what isn’t good? ALL THE WEATHER IN SAN FRANCISCO. These are some schizophrenic weather conditions up in here. It’s all beautiful and sunny one minute and seriously, SERIOUSLY, the next minute it could be foggy and raining. Do you want to know how many times I’ve left the apartment without an umbrella because it was clear and beautiful out just to get caught in a storm? A LOT. ENOUGH TIMES TO NOTICE.

And, I know, I KNOW, a lot of you are rolling your eyes at me because you, well, you definitely live in places where tornados are a real thing and where your car might get snowed in or where the humidity makes you want to kill yourself. I get it. I know. Again, I’m acknowledging that I’m acting like a baby, but I think it’s because I’m so used to California weather that that makes me even more susceptible to bad weather and I guess that’s sort of like saying that I’m so used to Cristal, I couldn’t even touch any of that Brut nonsense, but that isn’t important right now.

What is important right now is that I got really sick and I can’t wear dresses at all because of San Francisco weather. Now, I may have gotten sick from partying too hard for three weeks straight and that may have something to do with a little thing called Bloggers in Sin City in Vegas, but I’m going to go ahead and say that Vegas is good for my health and it’s the bipolar weather behavior in San Francisco that caused me to have hallucinatory fever-state dreams on Sunday night.

And, as for the dresses thing, well, THIS WIND. THIS GODDAMN SAN FRANCISCO “I LIVE BY AN OCEAN” WIND. It’s killing me. It’s killing my fashion. IT’S KILLING EVERYTHING I CARE ABOUT.

My dresses! MY POOR DRESSES! Every time I leave the apartment in a dress, it ends up blowing everywhere and I realize I should have worn pants and ask me how much I hate wearing pants. JUST ASK ME.

SO MUCH.

I HATE PANTS IN MUCH THE SAME WAY I HATE WEATHER.

I know. I have such big girl problems these days.

Wah. Wah. Woe is me. Wittle Jamie can’t wear her dresses and hates it when it’s anything other than 60° and cloudless and beautiful. Poor wittle Jamie.

As a side note: the more I write on this blog, the more I realize that I’m rendering myself almost completely un-dateable. If I am forced to change my name and create an entire new identity completely separate of this blog for dating purposes, don’t blame me. BLAME THE BLOG. AND I BLAME YOU FOR WANTING TO READ THIS BLOG. I DO THIS ALL FOR YOU.

I’M SO SELFLESS.

WHY DO I ALWAYS SCREAM AT THE END OF MY BLOG POSTS?

IT’S BECAUSE I NEVER KNOW HOW TO END THEM.

THE END.

BYE!