There’s not much people can do besides wait it out. Sure, some can try to shovel like I did, but then it returns in full force.

Snow days as a kid = fun. As an adult = homework you have to do in your pajamas.

In between normal daily work routines I finished reading a book, started a new one, and looked at things I might want to watch on Netflix.

I settled on a movie called Close with the girl from the original The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. It was a fine movie and took place mainly in the Moroccan desert. Really takes your mind off the snow and inhumane temperatures the Midwest is experiencing.

Speaking of inhumane things experienced during snow, let’s see what stories there are to tell.

A Chevy Toyota

The cold slows your brain down. I’m pretty sure that’s a medical fact. If it’s not, then everyone who goes out to the bar wearing nothing but a midriff thought they were already MENSA candidates before leaving their house.

There’s already been an extensive story on women putting plastic bags over the heads, and faces, to avoid messing up their hair. Guys will give up their coats to women walking into the bar, because they feel a draft.

Yes. Guys are outside, in the freezing cold, and the girls are walking inside, and then the guys hand the girls their coats, inside.

Cold weather makes people do dumb things. The synapses aren’t firing appropriately. One word becomes another, like how an Uber driver in a Chevy Traverse becomes a mad dash to find the red Chevy Toyota in zero degrees.

Gen Xtra Insensitive

A couple in their 40s wanted to get into the bar to charge their phone but the woman didn’t have her ID. They were persistent and would not easily be dissuaded.

I suggested the coffee shop near the bar. It’s a fine place, well lit, cleaner than most, and above all, quiet with plenty of outlets.

The man’s response?

“Dude, that sounds gayer than AIDS.”

And then his friend wanted to go inside the bar to warm up. Or, at least I thought it was to warm up.

“Can go inside?”

“Sure.”

“Can I get them a hot cocoa?”

“Yeah, the coffee shop is next door.”

“I don’t want to go to the coffee shop.”

“But … we’re a bar. We don’t have hot chocolate. The coffee shop has hot chocolate.”

“I just want to get inside the bar man, plus it’s not for me, it’s for them.”

“Right. But you can only get it at the coffee shop, NEXT. DOOR.”

“But that’s not an option, man. We want the bar.”

“YES, I UNDERSTAND THAT, BUT WE. DO. NOT. HAVE. HOT. CHOCOLATE.”

“OK, I feel like you were on my side, but now you’re not.”

“Leave.”

Other people’s parents, man.

Molly Never Takes the L

Molly. Ecstasy. MDMA. Whatever it takes to get you high but not immediately dead.

But there’s a chance.

You can dance on it. You can … dance on it.

Is that it? Because that’s all I see it used for, teenagers and twenty-somethings ingesting the drug to give them a reason to wear fishnets and dental floss thongs in single-digit degrees.

Do I sound old-man-yelling-at-kids-on-my-lawn enough yet?

EDM is a blanket term for a lot of different sub-genres of noise. Sorry, music.

But music is meant to be enjoyed on its own. It literally makes us want to sing it in the shower, play non-existent instruments in the air, and bang our heads on public transportation. All without the need for an external high.

And yet, EDMers will gleefully risk frostbite for 3 hours of bass beats and strobe lights while high on a drug that impacts long-term memory.

I think we can all agree that most people who go to concerts want to remember they were at said concert. To see, to hear, to be in the moment is a lot better when you can take the moment with you, regardless of if you have your phone or not.

So, is there such a thing as living too in the moment? I guess only Molly knows.

I took a Mucinex before my shift on Saturday and had to cough up something fierce right after confiscating an ID of a girl who swore she was really Cassie. Well, the real Cassie just posted an hour ago from her home 6 hours away, so after I was making horrid noises I may have yelled, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m allergic to your bullshit.”

I was sick of her bullshit before this happened. She seemed really surprised to spell her middle name right.

“My middle name? It’s e, l, i … z, a B, E, T, H!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me, dawg.”