Forgive me, for I have sinned. In my blind zeal, I have alienated all of my friends with temperature Snapchats.
Over winter break, I retreated from Providence to the comfort of California as fast as my frostbitten legs would carry me. LA has a reputation for producing vapid narcissists, but maybe it’s because we’re tan and beautiful due to the eternally warm and sunny climate. I shed a tear of joy while basking in the heat waves. I shed another tear when the first one didn’t freeze on my face. Naturally, I seized this opportunity to send out more than a few obnoxious temperature Snapchats to my frostbitten friends who are dumb unfortunate enough to live in the goddamn tundra. I mean, it was 80 degrees on Christmas—how could I resist?!
Nonetheless, it was super unchill (HA!) of me to taunt my friends, and it resulted in pissed off responses consisting of negative temperatures captioned with “ur an ASSHOLE.” It was true, but I was a warm asshole. A warm asshole who was 3,000 miles away from the ice-cold wrath of my friends.
I returned to campus a little bit tanner with a suitcase full of sundresses and a superiority complex too big to fit in my carry-on bag. My friends didn’t welcome me back with open arms, but I figured they probably just had reduced ranges of motion due to hypothermia. But, surprisingly, they never quite warmed up to me. Not even bribes could thaw their frozen hearts.
I tried to survive without them. I thought I could face the snow on my own, but my naivety got the best of me. I should have listened to our Snapchat geotag’s warning, “The Blizzard is REAL.” But it is time to face facts and beg for forgiveness. This is my public apology:
I am sorry that I sent a Snapchat of me at the beach while you were ice-fishing.
I am sorry that I sent a Snapchat of me skiing in 60 degree weather while you were shoveling your driveway.
I am sorry that I live in a better place than you do; I’ll stop bragging about it.
And… you’re right, I am “The Preeminent Baby of Our Generation” as demonstrated by my snow-induced temper tantrums and my inability to survive in negative temperatures like an adult.
Now will you please take pity on me and help me blow-dry my snow boots?