This is actually an old post but something tells me it’s applicable today.

 

5. I have younger siblings and two dogs

Way more fun to chase them around and throw snowballs at ‘em. Its distracting. Makes the whole shoveling process a lot longer. Simple as that.

 

4. The interested passerby/neighbor

This guy comes over and chats me up every year, without fail. Letting me know his techniques, showing me his new equipment. Like I give a shit. This year my neighbor comes over while I’m wailing away on a chunk of ice like I’m trying to ring the bell on that carnival game, breaking two shovels in doing so. No joke he says: “Ya know what I do so it doesn’t ice up? I set an alarm every two hours to get out there. Stayed ahead of it until right around midnight. Back out here at six though.” Oh yea, dude? Sick. Got a little too drunk on brandy last night trying to stay warm. Sounds more fun than alarm induced shoveling.

 

3. Your body has no idea whether to be hot or cold

Put the jacket on, take the jacket off, on, off, on, off. Evolution is such a dick. Sure, turn gorillas into human beings no problem, but throw HellyTech and physical labor together and my body is as confused as Clay Aiken in his junior high locker room.

 

2. Watching people with snow blowers

I’m not one of those Archean type dudes who think technology is the devil. I haven’t written a letter in so long that I don’t even know what my penmanship looks like, and Stephen Hawking will learn to walk before I learn to write a check. I’m a 21st century guy. Having said that, people with snow blowers really fucking piss in my Cheerios. You knew the deal when you moved here, it snows on occasion. Once or twice a year you might have to do some extensive shoveling. If it really bothers you, write a whiny blog. Otherwise, deal with it.

I guess the hatred probably stems from the fact that I don’t have one. I have to watch from across the street as the kid who took the short bus to school finishes his driveway and a game of Scrabble before I’m done with the front walk.

 

1. When the shovel hits you in the dick

It’s going to happen. There is no doubt about it. You’ll get to a point in the shoveling when you say “Ya know what my back is killing me, I bet I could just push this instead.” And it will work, for a period of time. Then, just when you’re getting into a groove, the blade of the shovel will get caught in a rut and fly square into your dick. Just like going into the corners in hockey. I swear my dick has been slammed with the butt-end of more shovels and Synergys than I care to write about. At least I don’t have to wear condoms though, doc told me all the trauma has made my vas deferens as useful as Michael J. Fox in a game of Pictionary.