Cherry Poppin' Daddies

Every year.

Every GD year, the weather pulls a 180 and everyone freaks the fuck out. It's been warm here for the past two days. Unseasonably warm. Like, 77 degrees with actual sunniness, unseasonably warm. This has created many humorous people-watching situations, like the lily-white bare legs of girls wearing flip flops... with their peacoats and scarves. They looked like they had mental breakdowns while dressing themselves.

Ladies, if you're going to "go-all-the-way" with the flops this early in the year, please refrain from looking like you've escaped from an asylum. Plus, it's March. It absolutely will not kill you to wear nylons. (Or thigh highs! Try those! You'll love them!)

Predictably - and I know this because it happens each and every year - it's going to cool off again. This will happen this Friday. Temperatures were in the 70s today, but the high on Friday is set to be 42 degrees with some rain thrown in - just for fun! And I can guarantee that there will be waaaaay more than one woman wearing flip flops. There will also be a plethora of men without coats (haha, I used my most hated word to illustrate a point. I'm such a hypocrite!). And there will be lots and lots of people caught outside without umbrellas.

Do people not watch the weather channel? I love the weather channel!

We so pretty.

But more than anything, people freak out about the cherry blossoms. There's worry that the early warm weather will screw up the "peak" blooming dates. News anchors will discuss the blossoms in total seriousness, it will be front page news on the local newspapers, and then suddenly it's, "Oh my GOD, the cherry blossoms! Won't somebody think of the cherry blossoms!!!!"

In all fairness, the beloved cherry blossoms (and the impending festival) are a big deal around town. It reminds us of a simpler time, when the Japanese liked us -- you know, in the early twentieth century. They gave us these pretty friendship trees and all was well and good for about thirty years or so. Then there was that pesky "sneak attack," and we started bombing the shit out of each other. And we didn't like each other so much anymore. It took some time and heavy counseling, but we're totally BFF again, except that now we covet their technological know-how and their uniformed schoolgirls.

God, the title of this post just took on a whole new meaning. And I didn't even mean to go there.

Jefferson thinks your fanny pack is stupid.

Not that it matters - the tourists will still descend in droves, bolstering our economy and visiting our museums. They'll visit our finest chain restaurants, like ESPN Zone and Ruby Tuesday's, and they'll flood the metro with their fanny packs and leashed children. Everything's going to be okay.

Anyway, to recap, a haiku:

Weather pretty... sweet!
Then hilarity ensues
Think of the blossoms!

Won't somebody think of us?