The curse of winter finally has me in its grasp.
Winter you foul beast. You have found me at last. Tracked me down and sprayed me with your poisonous spore. I shake my fist at you winter, and If I had a cat I would throw that at you to.
I’m ready for the cold bra of winter to be pulled back to reveal the ample warm bosom of summer. And then i want summer to grab my head and, like your year nine English teacher when she initiated your first love affair, pull my face into her blossoming cleavage. I’m ready for a sixties style orgy of sunshine. Bring a friend and a hobbit-like sex slave.
The last thing I want is for you to think that I’m a whinger, normally I’m quite fond of the cooler weather and the heart warming food that goes with it. But… It’s effing cold. Really cold. I am walking around with permenantly erect nipples at the moment.
I may be sick but at least my “winter fatty body deposits” are in a constant state of rock hard six-packness. Well, maybe not so much a six pack as a damp newspaper that’s been frozen and shoved under my shirt. But I’ll take it either way. And by that I don’t actually mean I’ll take it either way. Filthy mcfilthy filth filth.
“I am graemes cold hard nipples,” said my nipples
Soon enough I’ll be complaining about the horrible summer heat.
I feel like punching myself. But instead I will try and convince Jen to make me some soup.
“Hey Jennee. Looking really good today babe…”
Jennee’s chicken and dumpling soup*
1 FR chicken (FR = free-range, or maybe farkin ret… something… if you still don’t get it)
2 brown onions
3 cloves garlic
1 celery stalk
I cob of corn
Thyme. Oregano. Parsley. Paprika (yep. Jen is crazy)
Parsley dumplings made from parsley, flour and other things dumplings are made from
*well that’s what I could see from the couch anyway. And I didn’t want to ask too many questions because then Jennee thinks I’m telling her how to cook and sometimes she gets a little upset at me for that. I feel better already.