Where's my damn snow???

I want my money back.

I put a downpayment on a real upper Midwest winter when I blew in here in August after two years of SoCal surreality. A "dusting" or two ain't gonna do it.

Who do I need to pimp-slap to get more than a couple day's supply of white stuff?

How about actual cold? Like "hurts to breathe, think I'll stay home" cold.

I have a sweet-ass ski jacket. Columbia. I've barely worn it. By this time in Black History Month I should be sick of that jacket. I should be dreaming - rashly, perversely - about a sticky August walk along the lake.

Not actually walking by the lake. In my tennis shoes.

Now watch: We're gonna have a long, cold, damp, retarded spring ahead of us.