I love summer. Wait no, correction, I LOVED summer and now I F'ing hate its guts

Okay, so I know come January I’m going to be bitching and moaning about the fact that it’s so F’ing cold my nipples just fell off on my walk through the Tarjay parking lot, but here’s the thing, I am SO ready for summer to be over. No, that is not a typo. I’m sick of this shit.

You’re probably like WTF BS, summer is awesome. But I’m like yeah, it WAS. And now it’s worn out its welcome like a houseguest whose coffee just kicked in and asked me where the bathroom is. Ummm, it’s at the gas station down the street. Then you can come back and hang out again. But I digress. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, how much summer sucks by now. So here goes. Ten reason I’m ready for summer to be over:

1. Sunscreen can suck my ass. Yeah, I know it prevents horrible things like having to rub aloe all over yourself and chemo and other annoying shit, but it’s like I’m going to battle every morning against my rug rats. I squirt a little on my hand and turn around to rub it on them and they’ve bolted halfway across the house.

ME: Get back here, I have sunscreen in my hand and I need to put it on you right now!

ALBINO CHILD: No way ho zay!

And I chase her around the house only I can’t run very fast because I have this little puddle of white goop in my hand.

2. Oh, and here’s another thing that can suck my ass. The ice cream truck guy. I swear that fartface waits until 4:30 every day to drive by. Heyyy, here’s a brilliant idea, let’s drive a truck full of dessert down the street with carnival music RIGHT before dinner. And then two hours later that stupid song is still stuck in my head and I accidentally start humming it out loud and my kids are like, “WE WANT ICE CREAM!!!” all over again only now he’s nowhere to be found. Because he’s probably hitting the bong around a lava lamp with his buddies. Or looking at his pedophilia pictures. Urrrgh, I hate the ice cream truck guy.

IceCreamTruckWatch copy

3. Okay, you know what I’m dying for about now? A nice, peaceful day inside. Like in our playroom or walking around the mall. No, I know it’s not like these places are closed or something for the summer, but it’s like if I don’t spend every waking minute outside in this gorgeous weather I’m flooded with ridiculous amounts of guilt that I need to go to therapy for. Plus you know if I spend one day inside Mother Nature’s gonna be like, “F you biatch, I make the weather awesome and that’s how you thank me? I hope you liked your day inside because now I’m gonna make it rain for the next 17 days.”

4. Hey kids, wanna go to the pool? And before the words have even left my mouth, I’m like awwww shit, what did I just do? ‘Cause just think of alllllll the crap you have to lug there. I mean you know how I’m bitching that my nips fall off in the Winter? Well, my arms fall off in the summer from all the shit I have to carry to the pool. And I’d rather lose my nips than my arms. Oh man, I pray one day I don’t need a mastectomy and look back at this post and think what an a-hole I was for writing that. No, F that. Even if I need a mastectomy one day, I think I’ll still stand by that statement. I would rather lose my nipples than my arms. But I digress. Like majorly. Sorry.

5. And speaking of the pool, here’s something else I’m ready to be done with. Shaving my bikini line. ‘Cause either I forget to shave and I have to tell everyone to avert their eyes as I’m getting into the pool, or I remember to shave and I have to tell everyone to avert their eyes as I’m getting into the pool so they don’t see all the red dots “highlighting” my coochie. I might be 40, but my bikini line looks like a thirteen-year-old going through puberty.

6. And speaking of the pool—yeah, I know I already said that, but the pool F’ing sucks for so many reasons that here’s another one—taking off my cover-up because my rug rat INSISTS I get in and by insists I mean throws a tantrum. And since kids pee in the pool like alllll the time, basically I have to expose my cellulite and giant ass to wade in urine. Awesome.

7. What is proper Summer attire? Shorts, skirts, t-shirts, flip-flops? Ennnnhh wrong. When you’re outside maybe. But then you step inside somewhere like Starbucks or a restaurant and it’s like stepping into, hmmm I don’t know, maybe the North Pole. Dear Starbucks, just because you make like a bazillion gazillion dollars every day, you don’t have to spend every last penny on air conditioning. I’m so sick of carrying a stupid sweater everywhere I go. And awww shit, it's so damn cold in here my nipples just fell off again.

8. Okay, so here’s the thing, if they can take a heart out of one person and put it into someone else, why the hell can’t they invent a stupid slide that doesn’t get hot in the summer? Because unless my kids are wearing pants, which they aren’t because it’s 90 degrees out, they can’t go on the playground equipment. And if they do by accident, which they always do, it’s like “Ahhhhhhhhh, my ass, my ass, it burns!” Only they don’t say ass, they say shitmaker. Kidding, they say tushie.

9. (Me skipping around my house and singing) Everyone upstairs, everyone upstairs, yayyyy, it’s time for bed (translation: Meeeeeee time on the couch eating ice cream and watching TV!), and then reality strikes. Awwwww shit, it’s a bath night. Why? Because every F’ing night is a bath night during the summer.  Otherwise they’re going to bed with white shit all over them (sunscreen) or brown shit (dirt). So every night is bath night. Supposedly.

10. I’ve got six words for you kids. Actually five words and one letter. GO THE F BACK TO SCHOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!

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