If you're reading this blog, it means that my brain has been successfully transplanted into my new host body, and that the old one, ravaged by frostbite and severe hypothermia, has (hopefully) been properly discarded.
|Source: Ironic Sans|
As you may recall, I live in Indiana, which was recently fucked by the long, cold dick of winter. In preparation for what I assume were record-breaking low temperatures in the Hoosier State (don't correct me if I'm wrong, you nerd,) I set out like any typical American preparing for a natural disaster: I stocked up enough food to survive for a month, then consumed as much of it as possible during the 3-4 day blizzard conditions in order to build my bulk and prepare for possible hibernation. I mowed down no less than 3 women and children with my cart in the dairy section to get a small container of sour cream. I took it upon myself to direct traffic and idiots in the parking lot, because that's what good citizens do.
|Pictured: A tangent.|
But this year, I decided to take it a step further. I absolutely loathe scraping my car windows in winter. You think that's ice? That's not ice. That's Jack Butt-Fucking Frost getting off on our misery, and jizzing all over our vehicles. He gets hard again as we struggle in vain to to scrape the outer ice so we can see, only to have our breath create inner ice inside the car. When we inevitably fly into a ditch or wrap ourselves around a telephone pole, it's like filthy bukake porn for him. And we're the bitches.
|Does anyone else feel like the amount of porn I have to watch for this blog is getting out of hand?|
Oh god.... the puns... =(
But I digress.
I hate scraping windows like I hate bills, dead puppies, and being told repeatedly that I need to watch (whatever) television series. So I decided to thwart Jack Frost and make him my bitch this winter. I went out and bought myself a lovely, grey, impermeable car cover, so that when the snow hit, I could simply whisk the cover off my away from my Camry, give it a shake-a-roosky, and store it in the handy carrying case it came in. Considering how effortlessly I was able to cover my car, I was very hopeful that these plans were completely impermeable, just like my car cover.
Well, as usual in Indiana, the trouble started with the forecasters shitting all over our expectations. Instead of a foot of snow, we got what I believe to be 3+ inches of slush (followed by maybe five inches or less of snow,) which of course turned entirely into pure ice in the -40°f windchill conditions. No, unfortunately, that's not a goddamned typo. It actually felt like -40°f during this
Side note: I had always kind of wanted to experience temperatures of that degree, because I assumed my nose-cicles would turn me into a lovable walrus, and I could build igloos and shit. It turns out, however, that those temperatures are so cold that you can't even piss yourself in misery, because your wiener is frozen shut with ice. I don't have a wiener, but I assume that's how it went down for all your poor sons of bitches who had to be out and about in that nonsense.
The change in weather didn't really phase me, because I'm a cocky piece of shit. I figured hey, if the roads are bad, I'll stay home, and when the roads are cleared, why, with all this preparation, it's just a matter of a simple swoosh, and my car will be free from its ice prison. I actually smirked a little as I saw all the other cars getting covered, while my impermeable fortress of magic material kept the Camry nice and dry.
There were a few little things the manufacturers neglected to put on the box:
1) Their definition of "impermeable" actually means "quite permeable, you naive fool."
2) The quite permeable material will allow water to seep through to the car, then freeze to adhere itself, like crazy winter super glue from super-hell, which is like normal hell, except the total opposite and made of ice. I bet there are lots of these car covers in super-hell. Maybe the super-devil even hands them out as welcome gifts, I don't fucking know.
3) When you do finally manage to free your car from this super awesome amazing so-ahead-of-the-game purchase you've made, take the "Free, convenient storage bag!" and light it on fire, and then light yourself on fire, because I assure you that's more of a fulfilling endeavor than trying to store this thing properly. Houdini would have been like, "aw shit, son" and just punched himself in the stomach before attempting to store this cover. It was like trying to shove squares into circles, or pairing chocolate pudding with corn and tonic water to make soup. It simply didn't work. For one disgusting, unfortunate, brief moment in my life, I knew what it felt like to be Ron Jeremy.
|Yeah, definitely out of hand.|
Would it have been easier for me to just bend over and take it from Jack Frost? It's hard to say. All I know is that I left the car cover bunched up on the car over night in defeat, and would not have been devastated to find it stolen the next morning. It might have even been worth paying an extra $25 to pay someone to come steal it, just so I didn't have to struggle with my failed plan the next day.
I did eventually get the car cover off of my vehicle. It is now "conveniently stored" in my trunk, probably melting all over whatever Island of Misfit Auto-parts dwells within. This is a fair trade in lieu of lighting myself on fire. I guess.
Seriously, fuck that storage bag, even if the color is lovely. Maybe I can use it as a coin purse or to store my cold, dead dreams of an easy winter, but of the very few things on this earth which I know in my heart to be true, that bag will never, ever, house my car cover properly.
They really ought to just sky-drop these car covers into bad neighborhoods to stomp out rampant prostitution. $25 for a thorough butt-fucking seems like a pretty good deal to me.
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