It's allergy season again, and here I am nervous like I stole something waiting for good ol' Mother Nature shoot a facial of pollen up my nose. How is it that I can go through life without a springtime care in the world, only to enter my 20's counting on feeling like shit at least twice a year.

The irony of the situation is that allergies are a lot like date rape. I'm like, "Oh! Springtime, what a lovely time of the year." I proceed to don my favorite pair of denim cutoffs and cut my mustache short so that the parts of my upper lip covered by the wintertime mustache may enjoy the nice weather as well. And wouldn't you believe it, as soon as I let my guard down Springtime takes our gentle flirting to a whole new level hate-banging my face with loads of smarmy pollen. Silly flowers! Don't you understand? My nose is no stigma, my face is no snizz - you cannot physically impregnate me; I'm human. Needless to say, the abundance of flower jizz in the air makes me feel like shit, and I'm bitter about it.

Fuck the weather.