The Worst Post I Have Ever Written... But You Should Still Read it Because it is Kind of a Milestone Because it is the Worst Post I Have Ever Written

It's Saturday evening and I know that no one is going to be reading this right now, but I am going to write a post anyway.

Because I have nothing better to do.  Because I am really fucking important and when I say stuff it should be considered news even if it isn't.  Because I have nothing to say but I still feel the need to say things.  Because I care.

So anyway... I might be dying.  I know I've said that before - probably lots of times - but this time it is totally possible.   And it isn't from Ebola.  I still might have Ebola, but I guess I'll never know because I am dying from something new now.

Remember how I live in Montana?  Well, Montana is really, really fucking cold right now (and yes, using the F-word was totally necessary there because you wouldn't understand how cold it is if I just said "really, really cold").  It was eight degrees last night.  Eight.  Degrees.  Fahrenheit.  (In slightly less amazing news, I know how to spell Fahrenheit all by myself.  Who needs spell check when you can spell Fahrenheit all by yourself?  Answer:  No one.)   That's -13 degrees Celsius to my international readers.   Yeah, my blog has readers in other countries.  It's no big deal...

Anyway, I just got back from a run.  I snuck onto a private golf course and ran around in the snow.

Did I mention that it snowed here too?  Because it did.  It snowed like 5 inches.

Do you ever wake up and look outside and your yard is covered in a perfect blanket of completely untouched snow and then you get an immediate, unconquerable urge to go out and destroy that perfection as soon as possible?  And because of the urgency you feel, you don't even have time to put on pants and then you are running around in your yard kicking the snow and your neighbors are sitting in their house eating breakfast and suddenly they don't feel like eating breakfast anymore because they are so embarrassed that the rest of the neighborhood can see your shorts that are kind of actually underwear but also kind of shorts that you wear in public sometimes because they are definitely more shorts than underwear but not everyone else feels that way?

Well, that's how I feel about snow.

And I wasn't satisfied with just destroying the snow in my yard.  I was for a little bit, but I came inside and then I started thinking about how much snow there was in other places and that that snow was probably still perfect and undisturbed and it was just sitting there on the ground feeling all high and mighty and I just had to go knock it out of its fucking high tower.  I had to find something bigger and better than my yard -- hence the golf course.

I had a lot of fun running up and down the fairways and destroying the snow - especially because I wasn't supposed to be there.  Every step was like a mini - revolution!  Basically, it was like being Che Guevara - who is the only revolutionary I can think of right now and whose name I also know how to spell.  And that's a good thing because spell check doesn't know who Che Guevara is.   But it wasn't just like being Che Guevara.  It was like being Che Guevara and also destroying snow.  It was awesome!

Anyway, it was really cold and windy, and I was out destroying snow for a very long time, so by the time I got back to my car, I was numb almost everywhere.  But I decided that I needed potato chips more than I needed to be warm, so I went to the grocery store before going home but there was a really long line and I was like "seriously?" And the grocery store was serious because the line didn't move any faster.

So I finally got my chips and then I went home and by the time I got in the door, I was shivering so violently that I couldn't even eat my chips.  And I realized it was probably because I was still all wet from destroying snow, so I took off my clothes but then I couldn't find my goddamn sweatpants because Boyfriend took them upstairs instead of leaving them in the middle of the floor where I was keeping them and I didn't want to go upstairs because I was too cold, so I got all mad at Boyfriend for moving my sweatpants and he was like "you shouldn't have left them in the middle of the floor!"

And I was like "you will never understand me!" and I tried to run away dramatically but it just looked funny because I wasn't wearing pants.

Then I got all pouty and tried to convince Boyfriend that is was his fault that I was cold so that he'd feel guilty and go upstairs and get my sweatpants for me, but he just ignored me, so I went over to the corner where there was a pile of my dirty clothes and I put on a sweatshirt and a skirt and wrapped myself in a blanket like a burrito.

And now I am sitting on my couch writing a completely pointless post so that you guys can feel sorry for me.  It is probably a subconscious attempt at seeking out the understanding that I couldn't get from Boyfriend earlier.   But seriously... how is it that he does not understand yet that I keep things in the middle of the floor?  If I don't keep my stuff in the middle of the floor, I might need to go upstairs to find it and that would just be ridiculous!

I'm sorry if this post was the worst thing that I have ever written, but you shouldn't judge me because I tried really hard and I didn't have to write a post for you since you probably aren't going to read it anyway.   You probably aren't even at your computer.  In fact, you are probably out doing fun things while I am sitting here wrapped up like a burrito writing a meaningless, rambling post that no one will read and it will just sit at the top of my page with no comments and I will start worrying that first-time visitors to my blog will see this post first and think "wow, this blog is lame! And it doesn't even get any comments!  Ptooo!" (That was the sound of them spitting on my blog.)  And then I will feel bad and die faster because I will be unhappy and being unhappy makes you stressed and being stressed makes you die faster.

Plus, I typed most of this post with only one finger because my hands are still kind of numb and that is just pathetic and you should feel sorry for me.  I also think I might be hypothermic.  That's why I am going to die.  I probably should have mentioned that earlier in the post.   Oh well.

Edit:  I just read this to Boyfriend and he looked kind of upset and he didn't even laugh.  So I asked him why he didn't laugh and he said that it was because I lied.  He says that he didn't actually ignore me when I pouted about not having sweatpants and that he actually asked me if I wanted him to go upstairs and get my sweatpants for me.  I don't know if I believe him because if I believed him I'd have to be really upset with myself for wasting so much of my valuable pouting energy trying to get Boyfriend to do something that he already volunteered to do but I didn't hear him.

Edit: I just read that last edit to Boyfriend to see if he would be satisfied with my portrayal of his actions and then he told me that when he asked if he could go get my sweatpants for me, I actually responded to him.  With words.  With English words that I don't remember saying.  And that is not all!  Boyfriend says that when I responded to his question that I don't remember hearing or responding to, I actually told him that I *didn't* want him to go upstairs and get my sweatpants.  And now I am stuck wondering whether Boyfriend is lying or I am crazy and neither option is a good option and I am upset.