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Dear Ithaca Wind, Please Kindly F*ck Off

Ithaca wind, you old fucking bastard. Why is it impossible to escape your malevolent grasp? There I am, walking up Ho Plaza and there you are whipping snow, ice, and hatred hard into my face. I make a right turn and you suddenly and “innocuously” decide to change direction so you’re still blowing snow, ice, and hatred into my face. Never has wind been so indecisive than the Ithaca wind and honestly… I’d prefer the wind that people break, right up in my face, over you. You bastard.

Oh look, a warm day. How nice. All I need is a thin coat and I’m fine. Tearfully I pack the ol’ Canada Goose away. No status symbol for me (how else will people know that I have money?). But no, wait, it’s you, the fucking wind, AGAIN. Gone is the warmth of the sun because you blow all the warmth and comfort away, suddenly the world is a tundra again and I’m freezing my balls off.

You want to know the worst part? Why I absolutely loathe you? When I am cramming for my quizzes and prelims, reading my notes as I walk to class… you have to come along. You swoop in and crumble the tear-stained pages from my cold dead grasp… so fuck you! I know I’m not going to get an “A” but I don’t need the environment reminding me that I am a failure. 

So Ithaca wind, please, kindly just fuck off. We hate you.

Literally Fucking Everyone

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