It's been snowin' for a while now. . .

I need to suck up my hatred of shopping and go out and buy some shoes when I'm on winter break. My worn out, holey shoes are just not cutting it anymore. My mom saw them and was like, "Yeah, you need shoes, and then we can throw those away." But that's where she's wrong. I love my shoes. Too much, perhaps. I didn't even leave them outside my hall on St. Nick's Eve yesterday for our floor because I was too afraid someone would mess with them. Then not only would I be out one shoe but I'd have nothing but skin for my feet.

Well, I guess I could always go about in my heels until I get back home, but let's be serious, that's a horrible idea. Well, I'd look absolutely fantastic fashion-wise (heels are NEVER a bad idea) but I quite fancy having all of my toes and not losing limbs to frostbite.

Winter is a cruel mistress, especially in the seas of Eau Claire, Wisconsin. And I'm assuming that to be double especially if heels were to be factored into the equation.

Oh, and the hill. The hillllllllll. For those of you who have never been to my neck of Wisconsin, you have no idea w

hat I'm talking about when I refer to the hill. What's so bad about a hill, you may ask? But no, you must have misunderstood me, because I clearly referred to this as THE hill. This isn't just "a" hill. No. THE. Not with a capital "t" but that's because I'm kind of afraid of what that might connote. 

Some people in my hall are like "OH PRETTY THE SNOW THE SNOW OMG THE SNOW PRETTYPRETTYSNOWFLAKESLOLOMGMYBFFJILL!!!1"

But they are wrong. Yes, it is pretty sometimes, especially when it falls in huge flakes and it's night and I'm happy. But that happiness is merely superficial and the only thing you have left is the angst that snow brings. 

I'm watching this wife swap show right now. And it is wonderfully entertaining, more so then should be necessary. One family is very liberal and anti-war and from Minnesota and all that stuff and the other is incredibly Bush-supporting and Christian and from Kentucky. Quote from one of the sons of the Minnesotan family "Jesus was a carpenter who liked to talk a lot!" 

Pro-Bush mom: "You

 are so a teenager"

Son: "I am so a teenager. And you are so an ignorant American."

Bahaha. Wow. Um. 

Yeah. Monday's tomorrow, which means start of secret snowflake gifts along our hall. I'M WAY EXCITED, LIKE YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE. I get way into this sort of thing. I made my girl a CD for the first gift. 

It goes like this:

1. Grape Picker - Juniper Tar

2. P.S. You Rock My World - Eels

3. Arms - Seabear

4. 5 Years Time (Sun Sun Sun) - Noah and the Whale

5. Ten Things - Paul Baribeau

6. For Emma - Bon Iver

7. Happyships - Watercolor Paintings

8. The Ghost Inside Our House - Cloud Cult

9. How a Helicopter Sounds - The City on Film

10. Fell Down the Stairs - Tilly and the Wall

11. You're the Good Things - Modest Mouse

12. Lay Down Your Arms - Flowers from the Man Who Shot Your Cousin

13. Raindrops - Regina Spektor

14. Strawberry - Paul Baribeau

15. Cut Your Hair - Pavement

16. Ooh La - The Kooks

17. Decatur, Or, Round of Applause for Your Stepmother! - Sufjan Stevens

18. We Will Become Silhouettes - The Shins

19. Red Right Ankle - The Decemberists

20. I Am John - Loney, Dear

21. Transistor Radio - Cloud Cult

22. At Last - Neko Case

23. Silent Night - Jingle Cats (Hahahaha.)

I worked like, crazy mad hard on this, like looking on her facebook to see what she liked and forming stuff around what she liked. Augh! I'm so excited.