Baby it's moderate outside

I have to say, I feel a little left out of all this winter weather complaining. You people, with your snow, and your blizzards, and your shovels...you think you're so big.

Los Angeles in December is no picnic either, just so you know. Just this past weekend, it dropped below 60 and all the roses in the neighborhood were clipped for the winter. That's right, no more roses until March. What the hell am I supposed to smell now? Other types of flowers?? No thanks. 

Also, the temperature in my house when I woke up this morning was 63 degrees. I quickly dug out my winter parka and turned the heat to 72. I'm okay now. We're all okay, by the grace of God. There is some condensation on my car windshield, so I will likely have to turn on the wipers before I drive anywhere, but it's not a big deal. Check in with me later maybe, just to be safe. 

It rained last Tuesday, so there were sirens and emergency helicopters buzzing overhead late into the night, rushing around to rescue all the victims of rain, like the guy whose Prius got stuck in a nasty gutter current and the lady who noticed the clouds gathering and so decided to go for a hike in a storm drain. Winter in Los Angeles would not be winter in Los Angeles without Lady Hiker in the Storm Drain. This particular hiker left her horse at home, though. I'm a little sentimental for Lady Hiker With Horse in Storm Drain, I must admit. There's always January though. 

The nightly news had a special report about how best to survive. In a breaking news bulletin, a spokesman from the Sheriff's department advised everyone to slow down while driving. Los Angeles when it rains is just a giant oil slick apparently, which makes it pretty difficult to drive while talking on a cell phone. In other words, Mother Nature is a total cockblock, where "chit-chat" is the proverbial "cock" in this expression. Best just to stay inside, authorities advise. Also, it seems, even though rain is transparent, it can obscure one's otherwise clear vision through the windshield, and did you know that wipers have various speeds to accommodate such circumstances?  

The Sheriff's department also taught me that puddles next to the curb can grow up to 7 inches deep, and when this happens, people crossing the street can get splashed by passing cars. Everyone in LA knows that rain burns like acid and once it gets deep into the fibers of your clothes it's impossible to dry out. Nobody likes to get splashed, said the official spokesman. Then, they showed footage of a woman getting splashed, and they were right about the extent of terribleness. The woman's Ugg© boots got wet, and she looked horrified. For the love of God, drivers, slow down!!!! How many Uggs must we ruin before this madness stops??!

We are all forced to adapt when winter rages its way through our city. I have noticed that James Belushi, who usually drives through Santa Monica with his convertible top down, is now driving through Santa Monica with his convertible top up, forcing him to drive with his cigar-smoking hand out his window. We could all learn a thing or two from Mr. Belushi about adapting to difficult circumstances.

Another fine example of rolling with the punches can be seen in my neighborhood's resident elderly bulimic jogger. Her usual attire consists of a black sweatsuit, clanking bejeweled fingers, a surgical mask, a long blonde wig, and a sun visor. Last week, she unveiled her new synthetic wig, the same gorgeous blonde butt-length hair, now rain-proof. Not even rain can come between Goldiwig and her 11-hour jog. Now that's perseverance! She'll reach her goal weight or die trying, I'm sure of it!

So there you have it, people of the snow. Let this be a lesson to you next time you think you have it so hard. Remember the roses (gone!) and the puddles (ouch! it burns!!) and the Uggs© (real suede!! Why, GOD??) next time you feel like complaining. This winter's rough for everyone. Thanks for your support.