Walken To The Car

At first I felt like I had turned into Gary Shandling for a brief moment on my walk to the car. Stick up hair with a pinch face and squinty eyes on a fat mug due to the hard blowing 6 degree slap in the face weather rushing into me head on.

I have been working in an office building all day where the "ladies" like it warm, so big ole wooly Bobbio had a sweat going on, and I don't like it. No matter. The more I sweat - the more I stink, so the cold winers stay clear of me and I don't have to listen to the dino sours yapping about it's cold and I'm cold and it's so cold in here and I'm gonna get a cold and it's so cold I can't feel my big enormous butt that should be keeping me toasted thru spring and other various cold this and cold that because it's only about 85 degrees next to a window and a hundred and a half next to a vent.

So with my sweaty hair and never a hat, I started walking to the car at the end of the day in a very hard breeze. By the time I got into my vehicle my hair had froze sticking straight up and back from the wind creating more of a Walken feel than Shanding. Nonetheless, with my frozen Walken hair, my Shandling squint of pain, my Buddy Hackett belly and my tear filled watery Dangerfield eyes, step aside folks, HOTTIE coming thru! No autographs, please, it's cold out here in Connecticut.